chapter 169
Tori's POV:
My stomach tightened with an anxiety I couldn't explain.
I decided to break the silence first, steeling myself for whatever might come.
Whether Susan knew about my connection to William or not, standing here frozen wouldn't help.
"Ms. Shepherd," I said, stepping forward with what I hoped was a calm smile. "It's good to see you again."
Susan blinked, and the intense scrutiny in her expression softened into something more polite, more controlled. "Tori, hello." Her voice was gracious, warm even. "Please, I've told you—call me Susan."
"Susan," I corrected, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
"I'm so glad to run into you," she continued, her companion watching our exchange with quiet interest. "I was quite disappointed when you couldn't make it to my exhibition last month. I do hope you're feeling better now?"
The guilt hit me immediately. I'd used feeling unwell as an excuse not to attend—a convenient lie that had seemed necessary at the time, when the truth about my parentage was still so raw and overwhelming.
"Yes, much better, thank you," I managed, my cheeks warming slightly. "I'm sorry I missed it. I heard it was beautiful."
After some small talk, Susan's hand touched her pendant again.
"May I ask you something? It might seem odd."
"Of course."
"Do you know your birthday? Your exact birth date?"
The question caught me off guard. Morgan shifted beside me, her protective instincts clearly activated.
"I... no, actually." The admission felt strange, vulnerable. "My mother never told me the specific date."
Susan's eyes widened with surprise, and something that looked like distress flickered across her features. "But then... how do you celebrate? Surely you must mark the day somehow?"
I forced a small smile, trying to keep my tone light. "I don't, really. It's never been something we... celebrated."
Hannah had never cared whether I lived or died, let alone remembered the day I was born.
The only time I'd ever felt acknowledged was on Ryan's birthday, when Aunt Janet and Uncle James would quietly include a small gift for me too—a gesture of kindness that had meant everything to my younger self.
But then Uncle stopped coming around. And then Ryan was gone.
And with them went the last remnant of anything resembling ritual or recognition in my life.
Susan's expression crumpled with barely concealed heartbreak.
"That's..." She paused, visibly struggling to compose herself. "I'm sorry, Tori."
"You just remind me so much of someone. When I... when I lost my daughter, I used to paint. To cope with the grief. I'd imagine what she might look like as she grew up."
Susan's gaze traveled over me, taking in the flowing fabric of the dress, and a tear finally escaped down her cheek. "You look exactly like one of those paintings. "
My stomach dropped, a wave of guilt and shame washing over me so intensely I had to fight to keep my expression neutral.
If only you knew, I thought, my throat tightening painfully. If you knew the truth—that I'm the daughter of the woman who destroyed your family —you wouldn't be looking at me with such tenderness. You'd want me as far away from you as possible.
The irony was cruel. Here was Susan, seeing in me an echo of the daughter she'd lost, finding some small comfort in the resemblance—while I stood before her carrying the weight of my mother's sins, a living reminder of everything that had been taken from her.
I shook my head quickly, forcing brightness into my voice. "It's alright, really. "
My phone buzzed with a text from Lucas: I'm here. Take your time.
"I should go," I said, offering Susan a forced smile. "My... Lucas is waiting for me."
"Of course." Susan's voice was strained, her eyes still glistening. "It was lovely seeing you again, dear."
Morgan and I turned toward the exit, my friend's hand supportive on my elbow.
I was so focused on steadying my own emotions that I didn't notice the two children racing through the boutique behind us, their playful shrieks growing louder.
"Watch out!" someone shouted.
Before I could turn, I heard a sharp scrape of metal against marble. Susan had launched herself from her wheelchair, moving with surprising speed to intercept the collision course.
"Susan!" I gasped, spinning around to see her stumbling, her companion rushing to steady her.
I reached her side immediately, my hands carefully supporting her arm. "Are you alright? You shouldn't have—"
"I'm fine," Susan breathed, though her face had gone pale. "Are you? The baby—"
"We're both fine," I assured her quickly, even as my heart hammered.
The little boys who'd caused the commotion stood frozen nearby, their faces pale with shock.
Then William Sullivan appeared seemingly from nowhere, his commanding presence filling the space. The child took one look at the stern Alpha and his bottom lip began to tremble before he burst into tears.
"Tori." Lucas's voice cut through the chaos as he materialized at my side behind William, his hand immediately finding the small of my back.
His ice-blue eyes swept over me, checking for injuries with barely concealed anxiety. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. But Susan—she jumped up to protect me." I gestured to where Susan sat in her wheelchair, her companion hovering anxiously. "Her legs—"
Lucas's expression shifted immediately, his gaze moving to William, who had already reached Susan's side.
The two Alphas exchanged a brief, weighted look.
"We need to get her to Moontouch Medical Center," William said, his voice tight with concern as he knelt beside Susan's chair. "Now."
"I'm fine—" Susan started to protest, but William cut her off with a look that brooked no argument.
"Your legs were just beginning to show improvement," he said quietly, his hand gentle on her shoulder despite the steel in his voice. "We're not taking any chances."