Chapter 57 Fifty six

Chapter 57 Fifty six

Howard.

Four years ago, I found myself at the bar one night, seeking refuge from a heated argument with my father regarding the lifestyle I had embraced. My chosen path involved drinking, casual affairs with women, and a steadfast avoidance of love. In a fit of anger, he had threatened to strip me of my upcoming Alpha status if I continued down this reckless road. Hurtful words were exchanged, and in the end, I left, with him damning me to hell.

The bar was my escape, a place where I could drown my sorrows in alcohol and seek a fleeting one-night stand, just as I intended that night. By the time Karen entered, I was already three glasses of beer deep. At first, I barely noticed her until she took a seat on the barstool beside me. Her expression was one of horror, a look I rarely associated with Karen, who was known for her fearlessness and strength. She despised appearing weak, a trait that oddly drew me to her, but without any romantic attachment.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice quivering, her eyes on the verge of tears. 

"Are you here to worsen my night? Well, you're in luck; it's already ruined," I scoffed, downing the remnants of my third glass.

"This is important. Can we step outside?" she implored, glancing around the bar.

"Spit it out, Karen. I don't have the patience for your nonsense," I replied, wearied by the prospect of trouble that often accompanied her presence. She was something of a toxic influence, much like myself.

"Howard," she warned, and I knew that whatever followed would either be an embarrassment I could handle or something far worse. 

Sighing, I got to my feet, surprisingly sober after three drinks. We left the bar, and the frigid night air hit my face, providing a welcome distraction from the lingering bitterness of fight with my father   

"What's this about?" I inquired when we were alone.

She retrieved a white stick from her purse and handed it to me, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. I examined the object, utterly confused. 

"I'm pregnant," she uttered, her voice hushed. My shock was palpable.

"You're what?" I whispered in disbelief, drawing closer. "What do you mean you're pregnant? You told me you were on birth control."

"I don't know," she replied, sniffling and trembling, hands pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs. "I can't handle this. It's the last thing I need right now, Karen. Do you think it looks good for me to run for the Alpha throne with a baby on the way?"

"I don't want this child either," she snapped, her anger flaring. "I'm not ready, and I'll never be ready. Especially not with someone like you, Howard. F! I'm having an abortion!"

"Are you out of your mind?" I spat, vehemently opposed to the idea of harming an innocent child, no matter how flawed I may be.

"What?" She glared at me. "I don't want the baby, and neither do you. What do you expect me to do, keep it?" she asked, her anger seething. Her eyes, devoid of tears, radiated wickedness. Karen was merciless and selfish, even more so than I was. I, too, was unprepared for fatherhood, as it would only complicate my already chaotic life.

"You can't abort it," I reiterated, my voice softening. Karen crossed her arms and scoffed.

"I can't keep this baby, Howard! I don't have the time or the desire to raise a child I never wanted!" she protested, her heartlessness on full display. Karen was the embodiment of selfishness.

"No," I said again. "What do you want me to do, then?" she demanded, glaring at me.

"I'll pay you to carry the pregnancy to term, and once the child is born, I'll ensure they're taken to an orphanage," I proposed. 

Karen let out a humorless laugh, making me glance around to ensure our conversation remained private. I growled, gripping her shoulders.

"I said I'd pay for your needs during the pregnancy. But this must remain a secret. No one should know this child is mine, understood?" 

Karen gave me a sinister smile that set off warning signals. She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"That's going to cost you extra to keep my mouth shut," she declared heartlessly. Karen excelled at playing games with the devil, and I knew better than to argue. A single misstep would lead her to spill the beans to everyone, a situation I couldn't afford.

"Fine," I conceded. "I'll need a new house," she added.

"What... fine," I grumbled, stepping back. "Go home for now, and we'll sort everything out tomorrow."

Karen walked away, her demeanor an incongruous contrast to the woman who had been on the verge of tears before confessing her pregnancy. I watched her, contemplating the inevitable intrusion of her presence into my life. A woman was the last thing I needed, and my existence seemed destined for torment. Nevertheless, I couldn't escape it.

That was how lived—the revelation that Karen was carrying Scott was nothing short of shocking. It haunted my nights and tormented my peace of mind, the thought of bringing an unwanted child into this world looming over me like a dark cloud. I was stricken with fear, which was one of the reasons I chose to keep him hidden from the world. Yet, despite my best efforts, Karen found a way to unveil him to satisfy her own selfish interests, long after Scott had grown into a beautiful and innocent child.

The idea of giving him away had seemed impossible when he was born. He was a tiny, exquisite being, devoid of any knowledge of wrongdoing. He was pure, untainted by the world's complexities. I couldn't fathom the idea of parting with him, relinquishing him to the unknown. I couldn't give up on this child, not after witnessing his entry into the world.

When I mustered the courage to tell Karen that I wanted to keep him, she resisted vehemently, as though I were the child's biological father. I stood by my decision, adamant that I wouldn't let go. I was unaware that Damon was the true father all along, and they had manipulated me to achieve their own ends. I felt used, manipulated, and betrayed, yet the love I harbored for Scott was unwavering. I still cherished that child, wherever he might be now.

Because of him, I had felt capable of anything, alive with the belief that love could manifest in myriad ways and forms. The shock of Karen's pregnancy had rattled my world, but the moment Scott was born, my love for the baby overwhelmed me, transcending all obstacles.

I had already weathered the storm when Karen revealed her pregnancy. Now, I was on the cusp of facing a similar ordeal, and yet this time felt different. I didn't possess the strength that had carried me through the Karen situation. I didn't want to relive that tumultuous chapter of my life. It seemed like a recurring nightmare, and I wasn't sure I could endure it once more.

When the doctor shared the news of Nora's pregnancy, I found myself at a loss for words. Confusion and ambivalence clouded my emotions. As I gazed at her, peacefully sleeping in her hospital bed, a persistent thought tugged at my conscience. The temptation to vanish, to walk away and never return, was a siren's call, beckoning me to escape the turmoil. If Direwood were not my home, and if I weren't obligated as the alpha, I might have succumbed to that impulse. Call me heartless, but I felt overwhelmed, unable to bear it any longer. I couldn't handle her, and I didn't love her. Hatred wasn't the right word either, but I certainly wasn't in love with her. I couldn't even say I liked her; I merely hated her less than I once did.

My frustration grew as I watched her rest, oblivious to the life growing within her. I couldn't help but entertain a foolish idea: What if this child didn't belong to me? What if Miles had been involved with her? The notion incensed me, and I averted my gaze, clenching my fists. Miles had only reappeared three weeks ago, but the possibility gnawed at me. However, I knew the baby was undeniably mine, as it had been almost eight weeks, and I was aware of our intimate history. I hadn't bothered with protection, believing she couldn't conceive after months of intimacy, until this surprise revelation.

As Nora shifted in her sleep, I observed her pallid complexion and dry lips, signs of fatigue and exhaustion. She had endured tremendous hardship, largely due to my actions. This guilt weighed on me, a sentiment I was keen to avoid. I didn't want to feel guilty; it was my primary reason for repeatedly rejecting her, despite her persistence. If Nora could peer into my heart and mind, she would likely go insane and despise me. She might flee from my life, but she chose to cling to the hope that I would change, preferring fantasy over the harsh reality of my reluctance.

I had knocked her off, and I didn't desire the child she now carried. I dreaded revisiting the same nightmarish journey I had endured with Karen. Even though Nora was nothing like Karen, she was a different version, a kinder iteration of her. Nora wouldn't resort to blackmail, nor would she disrupt my life for her own comfort. She was nothing like Karen, and yet, the fear of reliving that chapter in my life left me averse to embracing this new beginning.

The door to her room creaks open, and Alex strides in, my displeasure evident on my face. He approaches slowly, taking a spot by the bed, glancing at Nora and heaving a heavy sigh, empathizing with her ordeal. My own feelings towards her remain tangled and uncertain. Part of me pities her for the predicament she's in, but at the same time, I want no part in this.

"I just saw the last guest out," Alex informs me. "How's she doing?"

I nod slowly, contemplating my response. "Has he left?" I ask, and I know Alex will instantly grasp who I'm referring to.

"He's still waiting outside the room," he replies, confirming my suspicion.

I can't help but scoff and clench my teeth, my jaws tensing. "What the hell does he want, exactly? She's in this mess because of him," I vent my frustration, squarely laying the blame on Miles for Nora's current condition even though I'm all at fault.

Alex exhales, sliding his hands into his pockets. "She's pregnant," I announce, revealing the news that has left me torn. Alex's reaction is one of surprise and disbelief.

"Nora?" he queries, seemingly shocked.

I glare at him. "Who else do you think I was talking about, you?" I retort, irritated by his bemusement.

Alex seems to find my comment amusing. "Wow," he mutters with a smile. "I can't believe you're going to be a father," he comments, to which I emit a derisive hiss.

"The hell I'm not," I scoff in response.

Alex looks puzzled, his brow furrowed. "I don't want this child," I confess, a statement I realize will invite a lecture from my friend.

"You're out of your mind, right?" Alex mutters disapprovingly. I raise my gaze from the floor, glancing at Nora, who is stirring in her sleep. She may wake soon.

"Look, this isn't the right time for this discussion," I say, deflecting the topic, unwilling to delve deeper. Nora slowly opens her eyes, her gaze fixed ahead.

"I'm out. You're insane if you're serious about what you just said," Alex whispers, retreating from the room.

I wish I were merely jesting, but the truth is I can't bear this responsibility. 

Nora finally turns her attention toward me, her face weary and impassive. As I observe her, I'm at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. Questions flood my mind: How is she feeling? Should I call the doctor? Yet, I say nothing, merely staring back at her.

We maintain this silent exchange until she gazes ahead again. She inhales deeply and shuts her eyes. "I'm pregnant, aren't I?" she says, catching me off guard. I wonder how she discovered this so quickly.

"I can feel it! I felt it," she murmurs, her eyes still closed as she gently rubs her tummy. "Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, perplexed. She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she opens her eyes and meets my gaze. Her eyes glisten with moisture, and her lips quiver. She tears her eyes away from me, drawing another deep breath.

"I don't..." Her words waver. "Do you even want the baby?" She turns to me once more. I want to be honest, but I'm unsure if this is the right moment to reveal my feelings - that I don't want her, or the child. I'm reluctant to confess that I won't be involved because I dread a recurrence of the Karen episode. I'm a mess, toxic, and incapable of being around people, as it always leads to hurting them. I've hurt Nora, and I don't want to do it any longer.

"You don't want the baby," she concludes on her own. Her eyes well up with tears, and she's on the brink of breaking down.

I turn away, unable to witness her cry. I'm tired of being the cause of her tears. I'm not worthy of her pain, not worthy of love. She speaks up, her voice shaking with anger.

"Get out!" She practically spits the words. "I never want to see you again, Howard! Get out, you piece of s!"

I watch her for a moment, waiting for her to recant her harsh words, but she doesn't. She simply turns away and sobs, her entire body quivering with grief. I've shattered this girl, and though I feel guilty, it isn't enough to make me apologize. It's not enough to make me rescind my decision. Our relationship is in tatters, and I want to feel liberated, but I don't. I'm still ensnared, and my heart aches with a lingering emptiness.

Nora continues to cry as I exit the room, leaving her behind.

I can sense that she must view me as a monstrous figure now, as the most heartless person in the world. 

What she doesn't realize is that I'm not just a man who needs fixing; I'm already shattered and a chaotic mess. No matter how hard she, or anyone else, tries, I am beyond repair. This is the aspect that eludes everyone's understanding. It's a stark choice - either you accept me as I am or you walk away. 

However, I made the ill-fated decision to pity her and attempt to drive her away before it's too late, but she proved too persistent. Her hope was boundless; she believed she could mend me. But Nora Fred, I want you to understand, I am not fixable. I am a toxic disaster who has just rejected his own unborn child.