chapter 159
William's POV:
The DNA report felt like lead in my hands.
I sat alone in my study, the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled into my bones.
Leo had delivered it personally this morning, slipping it into my hand with a knowing look.
99.9% probability of paternal relationship.
The words blurred as I read them for the third time, my wolf stirring restlessly beneath my skin.
It couldn't be real. It couldn't be.
For twenty-two years, I'd lived with Frost's(Hanna) accusation like a brand on my soul—her tearful claims that I'd gotten her pregnant.
I'd denied it. Vehemently. Absolutely. I'd never touched Hannah Sullivan, never even looked at her that way.
I'd been certain. And Hannah herself had been so erratic, so desperate for status and security, that her story had never made sense.
But now...
My eyes fixed on Tori's name in the report, and something cracked open in my chest.
That first moment I'd seen her—those silver eyes that had struck me like lightning, so familiar, so right.
The way my wolf had immediately calmed in her presence, something it never did with strangers. Her brilliant mind, her gift for lunar calculations that mirrored my own.
I'd thought it was simply recognizing a kindred spirit. A young wolf with talent who deserved support and guidance.
But it had been recognition. Blood calling to blood.
"No," I whispered, my hands trembling as I set the report down. "No, no, no..."
If this was true—if Tori was really my daughter—then Hannah hadn't lied. At least not about that. Which meant...
The room tilted. I gripped the edge of my desk, my breath coming in short gasps.
Which meant I had betrayed Susan.
"I don't remember," I said aloud, my voice breaking. "I don't remember any of it. How could I not remember?"
The guilt was crushing. All these years, I'd held my head high, secure in my innocence. I'd looked Susan in the eye and sworn I'd never strayed, never would.
The pain in my chest intensified, sharp and hot. My vision swam. This wasn't just guilt—this was something physical, something breaking inside me.
Alpha! my wolf howled in alarm. Alpha, breathe!
But I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the horrible, inescapable truth.
The weight of it all—the lies, the truth, the impossible situation—crashed down on me at once.
And then there was only darkness.
---
When I woke, I was in my own bed, the familiar ceiling of my bedroom swimming into focus.
Dr. Morrison's concerned face hovered above me, his stethoscope cold against my chest.
"Welcome back, Alpha," he said with forced cheerfulness. "You gave us quite a scare."
"What happened?" My voice came out as a croak.
"Severe stress-induced cardiac event," Morrison said, straightening up. "Your blood pressure was dangerously elevated, your heart struggling under extreme emotional duress. You collapsed in your study."
He paused, his expression growing stern. "You're lucky your assistant found you when she did."
My father, Owen's face appeared beside Morrison's, tight with worry.
"You're going to rest," Owen said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Doctor's orders. I'll handle pack business until you're cleared to return to duty."
"But—"
"No arguments." Owen's hand came down on my shoulder, firm and unyielding. "The pack needs you healthy, not dead from stress. Whatever you've been dealing with, it can wait."
I wanted to protest, but the exhaustion pulling at me was too strong. I fell asleep again.
---
But the peace didn't last long.
The next morning, I was barely awake when my bedroom door opened with more force than necessary.
Owen strode in, his expression thunderous, a familiar manila folder clutched in his hand.
My stomach dropped.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "Now."
I struggled to sit up, my body still weak. "Father—"
"Don't." He crossed the room in three long strides, slamming the folder down on the bedside table. The DNA report. "I found this in your desk drawer yesterday. "
His ice-silver eyes—so like mine, so like Tori's—blazed with a mixture of shock and anger.
"Explain this to me, William," he demanded, his Alpha authority saturating every syllable. "Explain how this girl—Tori Sullivan, the one Lucas Grayson has claimed as his Luna—shows a 99.9% genetic match to you."
I closed my eyes, shame washing over me fresh and raw. There was no point in deflecting now.
"It's exactly what it looks like," I said quietly. "Tori Sullivan is my daughter."
The crash of shattering porcelain made my eyes snap open.
My mother stood frozen in the doorway, a silver tray tilted at a dangerous angle in her trembling hands.
Fresh fruit—sliced apples, berries, grapes she'd carefully arranged—tumbled to the floor in a cascade of color, the crystal bowl bouncing once before rolling under the bed.
But Olivia didn't seem to notice. Her warm brown eyes were fixed on me, wide with shock.
"Tori?" she whispered, the single word barely audible. "Tori Sullivan is... your daughter?"
I couldn't meet her gaze. "Yes."
"The girl with the silver eyes," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion.
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, William. That's why I felt it."
"From the first moment I met her, I felt this... pull. This inexplicable warmth, like I'd known her forever." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I thought it was just because she reminded me of Luna and Susan, because of those eyes."
Her voice broke on the last word, and suddenly she was moving toward me, her hands reaching for mine with desperate urgency.
"We have to bring her home," she said, her tears flowing freely now. "William, do you understand? She's your only blood child. Your daughter. We have to—"
"No." The word came out harder than I intended, and I pulled my hands away from her grasp. "We won't do anything of the sort."
Olivia recoiled as if I'd struck her. "What?"
"I won't claim her," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady even as shame threatened to choke me. "I'm being very restrained by not targeting her. And Susan can never know about this. Never. "
My throat tightened. "It would destroy what little remains of our bond. We'd be finished. Completely finished."