CECELIAS POV
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. Every instinct screamed at me to defend myself, to shout that I wasn't lying, that Golden was real and terrified somewhere without his mother. But I forced myself to stay quiet. Zeke needed to make this decision himself.
Zeke pulled his arm away from Layla's touch. "She's agreed to a healer's examination. That will settle any questions about paternity."
"A healer's exam?" Layla's voice rose another octave. "You're actually giving credibility to this insanity?"
"A child is missing," Zeke said coldly. "Whether he's mine or not, that's reason enough to investigate."
"She probably doesn't even have a child," Layla insisted. "This is all an elaborate scheme to worm her way back into your bed, into your life, into this pack. Can't you see that?"
"What I see," Zeke said, his Alpha authority bleeding into every word, "is that you need to leave my office. Now."
Layla flinched like he'd slapped her. "Zeke, please. You have to listen to me. She's dangerous. She's going to destroy everything we've built together."
"We haven't built anything together," Zeke said flatly. "Now get out."
"But Cameron—"
"Take Cameron to his room. I'll speak with you later."
Layla looked between us, her face twisting with emotions I couldn't name. Finally, she grabbed Cameron's hand and yanked him out of the office. The little boy stumbled, looking back at us with frightened eyes before the door slammed shut.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
"She's terrified," I said quietly.
Zeke turned to look at me. "Of what?"
"Of me. Of what my return means for her position here." I wrapped my arms around myself. "She tried to kill me once, Zeke. She pushed me off that cliff. She wanted me dead so she could take my place."
"I know."
The simple statement made me blink. "You know?"
"I suspected," he corrected. "Things never added up about your death. The body we found was badly decomposed but the timeline was wrong. The injuries didn't match a fall from the cliffs. There were inconsistencies everywhere." He rubbed his face tiredly. "But I had no proof. And Layla was pregnant, or so I thought. I couldn't exactly accuse her of murder without evidence."
"So you just let it go?"
"No." His voice hardened. "I investigated quietly. But everyone's stories matched. The pack accepted that you'd fallen, that your body had washed up weeks later. Without proof, without your testimony, I couldn't pursue it."
"And now?"
"Now you're here." He moved closer, close enough that I could smell his scent. It hit me like a physical blow, familiar and foreign all at once. "Now I can protect you properly. That's another reason you're staying at the palace."
"I don't need your protection."
"Three years ago you didn't think you needed it either," he said bluntly. "Look how that turned out."
The words stung because they were true. I'd been naive and trusting. I'd believed my sister loved me despite her jealousy. I'd believed Zeke when he said our marriage could work. I'd been stupid.
"I'm not that person anymore," I said.
"I can see that." Something in his expression shifted. "You're stronger now. Harder."
"I had to be."
"Tell me what happened," he said. "After the fall. How did you survive?"
I didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to relive those terrifying moments in the water, the cold certainty that I was dying, the shock of waking up in Fatima's house weeks later. But maybe he needed to know. Maybe it mattered.
"Fatima found me," I said simply. "She's a fisher in Seacreek. She was checking her nets when she saw my body washed up on the shore. She pulled me out, brought me to her home, kept me alive until I woke up."
"How long were you unconscious?"
"Three months."
His eyes widened. "Three months in a coma?"
"Yes. When I finally woke up, I didn't remember what happened at first. Didn't remember falling, didn't remember who I was." I swallowed hard. "The memories came back slowly. And when they did, when I remembered Layla pushing me, I knew I couldn't come back here. Especially once Fatima told me I was pregnant."
"You were already pregnant when you fell?"
"About a month along," I confirmed. "I didn't know. We'd been trying but nothing had happened and I just assumed..." I trailed off. No need to finish that sentence.
Zeke's jaw worked. "If you'd come back, if you'd told me—"
"You would have what?" I interrupted. "Welcomed me with open arms while Layla was here playing house with you? While she was pregnant with your child?"
"She lost that baby," Zeke said quietly.
The information hit me sideways. "What?"
"Two months after your death, she miscarried. Stress, the healers said." His expression was unreadable. "Cameron came later. Almost a year after you disappeared."
I did the math in my head. Cameron looked about three years old, maybe slightly younger. If Layla had miscarried and then gotten pregnant again almost a year later, the timeline made sense. But something about it felt off. I couldn't put my finger on what exactly.
"I'm sorry she lost the baby," I said, and meant it. Whatever Layla had done to me, losing a child was its own kind of hell. "That must have been difficult."
"It was." Zeke moved back to his desk, putting distance between us again. "She blamed herself. Said if she hadn't been so upset about your death, if she'd taken better care of herself..."
He didn't need to finish. I understood.
"But none of that matters right now," I said firmly. "What matters is finding Golden. Everything else can wait."
Zeke nodded. "Agreed. I've arranged for you to see the pack healer tonight. She'll do the examination and run whatever tests are needed."
"Fine."
"Until then, I'll have someone show you to your quarters. You'll be staying in the guest wing."
Not the Luna's chambers. Not anywhere close to where we used to sleep together. Good. I didn't want any reminders of what we'd had and lost.
"The guest wing is fine," I said.
He picked up his phone again but hesitated before making the call. "Cecelia."
"What?"
"I meant what I said. I will find our son. I promise you that."
Our son. He kept saying it like that, claiming Golden as his even though he'd never met the boy, never held him, never heard his laugh or wiped away his tears. Part of me wanted to rage at him for it. Part of me was grateful.
"Just find him alive," I whispered. "That's all I care about."