Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 359: Accusing

Sofia’s POV

Olivia’s teleport pulled us into a room, but this time the air was different—heavy with the smell of ink and old leather. An office. My eyes darted around, frantic, until I saw him.

Damien sat behind his desk, his back straight, his jaw tight. In his arms was our son, who leaned comfortably against him, playing with a pen Damien had given him. The sight should have eased me. My baby was safe. But instead, it only made my chest ache harder. His phone lay face down on the desk beside him.

I stumbled forward, my voice breaking. "Damien, why were you not picking up your calls..."

He looked up at me, his brow furrowed as he glanced at me and then back at Olivia. "So this is what you thought?" His tone was calm, too calm—dangerously so. "That I’d run away with him? That I’d take him away from you?"

The words hit me like claws to the chest. How did he read my thoughts so fast...? "You were gone all day. You never picked up your phone. I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know if he was safe. What else was I supposed to think?"

Damien’s eyes burned into mine, and for a moment I thought he would yell. Instead, he rose slowly, placing our son gently onto the couch beside his desk. The boy curled into the cushions, comfortable and calm, as Damien stepped closer.

His voice dropped, low as if he didn’t want our son to hear. "You think so little of me, Sofia? That I would take him from you?" His chest rose and fell unevenly. "You believe I’d do something that cruel?"

I shook my head, swallowing hard. "I don’t want to believe it—but you don’t talk to me, Damien. You don’t look at me. You only give your attention to him. And then today—you disappear without a word! My mind went to the worst place because you shut me out."

For the first time, something cracked in his mask. His jaw clenched, his voice trembling just slightly. "I would never take him away from you. Never."

I swallowed hard, glancing past him, watching Charlie giggle in Damien’s chair as he spun the pen like it was a treasure. My chest swelled with relief and resentment all at once. I forced myself to face Damien again, only to find his expression unreadable, carved from ice.

"My phone was on silent. I didn’t want interruptions," he said flatly. "And I told the housekeeper to inform you that Charlie and I would be late. So why the hell were you so worried? Why let such silly thoughts crawl into your head?"

My lips parted, but no words came.

wanted custody of Charlie... if I ever wanted to keep him, I wouldn’t sneak around like a coward. I would

confusion tangling with the relief his

second as it flicked back to where Charlie sat. "I may hate you, Sofia. I might be angry at you. But don’t ever believe I would use our son against

trembling with leftover fear, but my eyes drifted back to Charlie. He

me walking closer. "I had so much fun!" His voice was bright, pure, and free of all the worry

breaking with both relief and love. I lowered myself onto the couch

let me sit in his chair and draw on some papers." He giggled proudly, and I couldn’t help but

him in—his scent, his laughter, the sound of his joy. It calmed me more than any words

voice, low and steady. "She was worried sick,

reply came quieter, rougher. "I didn’t think... she’d believe I

on Charlie, not daring to turn. My boy’s chatter filled my ears, drowning out the weight of their words. Still, every

me, her gaze

around Charlie. "No," I whispered

up, okay?"I nodded, flashing her an appreciative smile before she

didn’t say another word after Olivia vanished. He simply walked back to his desk, lowered himself into his chair, and picked up a stack of papers as though nothing had happened. His face was carved from stone, his focus already on the work

long moment, my chest tight. Finally, I found

in the mansion?" I asked quietly. "Where...

look up right away. His pen scratched against the paper before he finally set it down and leaned back, his eyes

brows knit together.

minutes’ drive from the packhouse. Not far at all. But I needed space—somewhere separate. Somewhere I could work without the noise of the pack or the weight of the mansion pressing down on

landed on Charlie, who had slumped against the couch cushions. His little hands were still wrapped around the pen, his chest