Chapter 227: Is Edward Her Father?

Sloane's POV

"No. My mom is in there. I have to go." I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Jared knew how stubborn I could be. He gave me a long look, then stopped trying to stop me. He pulled me close and walked us out of the restaurant with quick, steady strides.

By the time we got back to St. Grace Hospital, the hallway outside the ICU had turned into a standoff zone.

Jared's men in black were lined up, blocking the door completely.

Facing them stood more than a dozen foreign men in black trench coats, their faces cold and hard.

The way these men stood, the look in their eyes — it screamed seasoned killers, not ordinary bodyguards.

The tension between the two groups was at a breaking point. The air felt ready to explode.

At the front of the group in black stood a middle-aged man who radiated an overwhelming presence.

He wore a well-tailored dark suit under a black overcoat.

Age had carved deep lines into his face, but instead of taking away from his looks, it had given him something more dangerous — the kind of cold authority that made people shrink back.

His brow was strong, his nose sharp and straight. Those hawk-like gray-blue eyes, though, were burning with both anxiety and barely contained rage.

"Move." His voice was low and rough, carrying the weight of a command that wasn't used to being ignored. "I'll say it one last time. I want to see Jones."

"Who gave you the nerve to pull this in my house?"

Jared's voice cut through from the far end of the hallway.

He walked forward with my hand in his, his steps calm and even, his tall frame giving off just as much pressure as the man ahead of us.

At the sound of his voice, the middle-aged man spun around.

His gaze swept past Jared and landed directly on my face.

In that instant, I watched his gray-blue eyes tremble — just for a split second.

The cold, hard expression he'd been wearing shattered the moment he saw me clearly. He froze like he'd been struck by lightning, and even his breathing seemed to stop.

"Jones…" he murmured, his voice shaking in a way he couldn't hide.

But he caught himself almost immediately.

He stared at me, scanning from my eyes and nose all the way down to my chin. The shock in his expression gave way to something close to frantic hope.

"You… who are you?" He took a sharp step forward, his voice breaking slightly, laced with a careful, fragile kind of longing. "Are you Jones's daughter? You look… exactly like her when she was young."

My heart slammed in my chest. I instinctively stepped back.

Who was this man? Why was he looking at me like that? How did he know my mother?

Jared's eyes went sharp. He immediately stepped in front of me, cutting off the man's intense stare.

"You come in here with armed men, and now you're demanding to know who my wife is. Seems like you have no respect for the Rex family at all." Jared's voice was ice cold, his gaze locked on the man like a blade. "Edward Thorne. The great mafia godfather. What are you doing in New York instead of staying in Italy?"

Mafia godfather?

I sucked in a breath and stared at the man they called Edward.

Edward completely ignored Jared's warning. His eyes stayed fixed on my face over Jared's shoulder, and I could visibly watch his eyes go red.

"I was Jones's boyfriend." Edward drew a slow breath, his voice so rough it sounded like it was tearing. Like every word cost him something.

He looked at me, and the pain in his eyes was deep and tangled and impossible to fake.

"I'm your biological father."

Those words hit the hallway like a bomb.

My mind went completely blank. There was a buzzing in my ears that drowned everything else out.

My biological father?

I had just found out Jones was my mother. And now a mafia godfather was standing in front of me saying he was my father? My whole life felt like a cruel joke. Twenty-something years of it, and all the truth was being ripped open at once, as brutally as possible.

I stepped out from behind Jared and stared Edward down, digging my nails into my palm to keep myself steady. "You say you're my father? Where were you? My mother lost her mind for over twenty years. When I was thrown away in an orphanage like I was nothing — where were you?"

My words hit him like a blade straight to the chest.

His large frame visibly swayed. The pain and guilt in his eyes was immediate and raw.

"I'm sorry… I failed both of you." Edward shut his eyes, his voice breaking. "Back then, Jones and I had a terrible fight over a misunderstanding. She left in anger. I had no idea she was pregnant. At the time, my family was in the middle of a serious uprising — I was caught up in it, nearly died more than once. By the time I got through it and went to find her, I heard she had lost her mind. And our child…" He paused. "I was told the baby didn't survive."

He forced his eyes back open. The gray-blue was threaded with red. "All these years, I had people quietly looking after the facility where she was staying. But I never let myself show up in front of her. I was afraid of making things worse. Then yesterday, I heard she'd been hurt. I got on a plane without thinking twice. I never expected…" His voice dropped. "I never expected you to still be alive."

His explanation made sense. But it didn't touch the wound inside me.

Then the elevator doors opened.

Brandon came out leaning on Christian, breathing hard.

He was already wrecked from everything happening with Jones. When he looked up and saw Edward standing in the hallway, the color drained from his face and something ugly replaced it.

"Edward Thorne! You bastard, you actually dare to show your face!"

Brandon's eyes went red. He charged forward without thinking, swung his cane, and brought it down hard across Edward's back.

The thud was solid. Edward didn't move out of the way. He took it without flinching. The men behind him reached for their guns on instinct — but Edward barked at them immediately. "Stand down. All of you."

"If you hadn't gone after Jones in the first place, she never would have gotten pregnant outside of marriage. She never would have ended up the way she is now!" Brandon was shaking with rage, jabbing his cane at Edward's face. "You're a blood-soaked mafioso. You don't get to say her name. Get out. You are not welcome in this family!"

Edward didn't fight back. He stood with his head low and let the old man pour out twenty-plus years of grief and rage.

Only when Brandon ran out of breath did Edward slowly raise his head.

He didn't look at Brandon.

He looked at me.