Chapter 108: Hundred and Eight

Declan’s fist connected with Jacob’s jaw again, a sickening sound echoing through the walls of our living room. A scream ripped out of me, hoarse and desperate.

“Stop it! Both of you, stop!”

Jacob shoved Declan hard, his chest heaving with rage, while Declan lunged back like a man who had nothing left to lose. They collided against the edge of the dining table, sending a chair toppling. My whole body trembled as I tried to push between them, useless against the brute force of two big, furious men.

Declan’s eyes, glassy with tears, burned into Jacob’s. “You don’t get to keep him from me!” he roared.

Jacob spat blood onto the floor and growled, “I told you to stay the hell away from Willow. She’s mine. Noah is mine.”

Those words seemed to cut Declan deep. His rage faltered, and for a moment he just stood there, chest heaving, his lips parted as though Jacob’s claim had punched him harder than any fist could. Then his gaze found mine, sharp and wet with pain.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he said, his voice cracking. His eyes searched me like he could rip the truth out of my silence. “Tell me Noah isn’t my son.”

I felt my stomach hollow out. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to vanish, but my silence spoke louder than anything I could ever say.

Declan staggered back, the fight draining out of him as if my silence had confirmed everything. His fists dropped to his sides, trembling. His chest caved in on itself.

And then he broke.

He bent forward, clutching his face in both hands, and I heard the sound of him sobbing. Not just crying. Sobbing. The kind of grief that comes from a wound carved into the soul. My heart split open at the sound.

Without thinking, I rushed to him. “Declan.”

He crumpled to his knees on the floor, tears streaking his face. I knelt in front of him, my own tears streaming down, and wrapped my arms around him. He shook beneath me, his entire body shuddering with the weight of five lost years.

Jacob stood frozen, blood on his lip, his face twisted in disgust. He watched me holding Declan as though I had betrayed him simply by offering comfort.

Declan’s voice was muffled against my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me, Willow? Why?” His hands clutched at my arms, desperate, almost frantic. He pulled back to look at me, his eyes bloodshot and wild with some kind of maddening grief. “Did I not love you enough? Was I so terrible to you that you thought I’d walk away?”

I shook my head, sobbing. “No… no, it wasn’t like that.”

He grabbed my wrist, holding it firmly but not cruelly, his eyes locking onto mine. “I told you I’d always take care of you. I told you that. And you.” His voice broke again. “You kept my son from me. My son, Willow. Mine.” He paused. “Our son,” he said, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“Declan, I’m sorry.” The words fell over and over again like a chant, as though they could undo years of lies. “I thought… I thought it was for the best. For all of us. For you, for me, for him.”

He recoiled, shaking his head violently, tears still wet on his cheeks. “For the best? For the best?” His voice thundered in the room. “How is it the best for a child to grow up never knowing his father?”

I pressed my palms to my face, breaking down completely. My body shook with sobs I couldn’t contain. “I thought I was protecting you! I thought.”

“You weren’t protecting me,” Declan spat. His hand slammed into the wall beside him, the plaster cracking with the force. He cried out, pain ripping through his knuckles, and when I looked down, blood was already dripping from his hand onto the floor.

“Declan!” I scrambled to him, grabbing his hand in mine. His knuckles were split open, raw and bleeding. Tears blurred my vision as I held his trembling hand. “God, look at you… you’re hurt.” I tried to press the hem of my shirt against it, my fingers trembling.

He winced but didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at me with a devastation so raw it hollowed me out. “Do you know what it feels like to find out I’ve missed five years of his life? His first steps, his first words, his whole world, and I wasn’t there. You took that from me. God, Willow, he doesn’t even recognise me. He thinks I’m some random man at his mom’s workplace.”

The guilt crushed me until I could barely breathe. I held his hand tighter, crying openly now. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought…” I sucked in a deep breath, the words caught in my throat, “Please, believe me. I did it because I loved you.”

His voice broke into something between a sob and a laugh. “You were everything to me. I was going to marry you. And I told you that. I told you, I was gonna take care of you. Why didn’t you trust me?”

Behind me, Jacob’s voice cut in, low and venomous. “That’s enough.”

I turned, startled. Jacob was standing stiffly, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with fury, his mouth twisted in disgust. He stepped forward and yanked me up, pulling me away from Declan’s bleeding hand. “You’ve done enough.”

I struggled against his grip. “Jacob, stop. He’s hurt.”

“I don’t care!” Jacob snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through me. I shuddered. His face was a storm of rage and revulsion. “You’re sitting here crying over him like I’m not standing right here. Like I’m nothing to you.”

Declan rose shakily to his feet, blood still dripping from his hand. His eyes locked onto Jacob’s with an amount of hate I’d never seen before. “You knew,” he said bitterly, his voice shaking. “You knew Noah wasn’t yours. And you let me believe my son didn’t exist.”

Jacob sneered, his arm tightening around me. “I raised him. I was there when she needed someone. You weren’t.”

Declan let out a strangled sound, half a sob, half a growl. He looked at me one last time, his broken expression searing itself into my memory.

For as long as I lived, I would never forget that look on his face.

Then he stepped back, shaking his head.

“Why, Willow?” His voice was raw, shredded. “Why didn’t you ever give me the chance?”

Before I could answer, Jacob shoved past me and opened the door. “Get out,” he said coldly. “Before I make you.”

Declan hesitated, his chest heaving, tears still streaking his face. His bleeding hand dripped onto the floor, marking the wood with spots of red. Then, with a hollow, broken laugh, he stepped out into the night.

The door slammed shut behind him, and I collapsed against it, sobbing uncontrollably.