Tristan didn't care about his public image, the growing circle of onlookers, or the sharp, white-hot agony flaring in his stomach wound. He immediately dropped his weight, bending down on his knees to meet the boy at eye level.
He looked at his son—the undeniable copy of his own crystalline blue eyes—and then shifted his gaze to Isidore, who remained completely frozen, a statue of pure grief. Tristan's heart bled for both of them.
He couldn't find it in himself to blame the innocent child for wanting comfort, nor could he blame Isidore for trying to run from a past that had brought nothing but pain.
Julian reached him, his small frame trembling violently as he brought his entire world to a halt. His tiny, shaking hands outstretched toward Tristan's chest, grasping desperately at the expensive fabric of the coat as if it were the only solid thing left in a collapsing universe.
The boy wasn't just crying anymore; the grief was entirely verbal now. A raw, ragged sob tore from his small throat, a sound so sharp and unpracticed it cracked the sterile air of the terminal.
"H-Hero..." Julian wailed, the word catching on a heavy, wet hiccup. It was a breathless, shattered plea, muffled by the tears cascading into his own collar.
"Hero... Hold me..."
Tristan's heart didn't just break; it sank into a deep, fathomless emotional abyss. The sound of his son's voice fracturing under the weight of such sudden sorrow ripped through his own chest, bypassing the physical pain of his wound entirely.
"Shh... calm down, little one," Tristan coaxed, his voice dropping into a low, rhythmic murmur meant to ground the child. "Stop crying... I've got you. You're safe."
Even as he whispered those soothing words, Tristan's gaze remained locked on Isidore. The Omega stood completely paralyzed, his beige eyes dilated with an agony so profound it bordered on madness.
Tristan's heart broke into irreparable pieces.
He took a single, heavy step forward, his boots dragging against the marble floor. He was a man completely trapped between the two halves of his own soul: in his arms was his son, weeping bitterly, and right in front of him was Isidore, enduring a silent, catastrophic heartbreak that only Tristan truly understood.
Isidore's vision blurred as a hot, heavy layer of unshed tears pooled in his eyes. The terminal lights refracted through the moisture, turning the scene into a distorted, agonizing nightmare. The horror was complete—his son was nesting in the embrace of the very man he had sacrificed his sanity to escape.
Tristan continued his desperate attempts to pacify the child, his large hand gently sweeping across Julian's back.
But little Julian could not be easily comforted. The emotional shock was too severe. In his four years of life, his mother had been a sanctuary of absolute kindness, a gentle shield against the world. He had never experienced the terrifying lightning strike of Isidore's raw, unbridled rage.
The sudden outburst had fractured Julian's tiny heart.
The boy peeked over Tristan's shoulder, his tear-filled eyes catching a glimpse of Isidore's ghostly, pale figure. Overwhelmed by a volatile mix of guilt, fear, and lingering anger, Julian quickly turned his head away again, burying his face deeper into the fabric of Tristan's shirt.
Tristan swallowed past the bitter lump in his throat, his hand rhythmically tapping the boy's back. "Calm down, dear... calm down. It's alright."
Across the ten-step expanse, Isidore slowly clenched his fists, his fingernails cutting ruthlessly into his palms. His jaw locked with enough force to strain the muscles in his neck.
Inside his chest, his physiology was failing him. The intense, suffocating pressure of his spiking blood line throbbed violently against his temples, a dangerous rush of heat flooding his face. His blood pressure was soaring to a hazardous equilibrium.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Isidore's voice didn't just break; it vibrated. It was a ragged, trembling sound that carried the weight of a lifetime of misery.
The moment the words struck Tristan's ears, he shook his head frantically, taking another desperate step forward. "Please, Isidore"
Tristan looked down at Julian, who was hiding from the universe against his shoulder, and then back at Isidore, who was visibly trembling under the weight of his own internal storm.
"Calm down" Tristan pleaded, his voice stripped of all its usual melodic authority.
"I... I really didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I never wanted this."
"Mr. Ashford? What the are you doing here?"
The sudden, sharp intervention shattered the private perimeter of their grief. Leon shoved his way through the outer ring of onlookers, his mismatched eyes wide with absolute disbelief as he took in the domestic disaster.
Without waiting for an answer from the superstar, Leon instantly moved to Isidore's side, his protective instincts overriding his fear of the Diamond King. He observed the dangerous flush on the Omega's cheeks and the vacant look in his eyes.
"What happened, Mr. Isidore?" Leon asked, his voice dropping into a tense, urgent whisper.
Isidore's jaw remained locked, his teeth grinding together to keep from collapsing. He didn't look at Leon; his bloodshot eyes stayed glued to the crimson hair of his adversary.
"Leon..." Isidore choked out, the syllables scraping against his throat like gravel. "Tell him... tell him to return my child to me."
Leon's brow furrowed into a deep, conflicted line. He looked at Tristan, then down at Julian, whose small hands were still clutching Tristan's collar for dear life. The driver's mind raced, trying to piece together the sudden, impossible defection.
"Why did Julian go to him?" Leon asked, his voice laced with confusion.
Isidore closed his eyes, unable to look at the physical proof of his failure any longer.
"Stop..." he whispered, his hand blindly reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Leon's shirt. "Stop making it further... just..."
The moment Isidore's fingers latched onto his arm, Leon stiffened. He could feel the violent, erratic tremor in the Omega's hand. He recognized the signs instantly—the rapid breathing, the ghostly pallor overriding the flush, the cold sweat. Isidore's delicate health condition was rapidly deteriorating, pushed past the breaking point by the spike in his vitals.
"Calm down, Mr. Isidore!" Leon ordered gently, his tone shifting into one of medical urgency as he supported Isidore's weight.
"Look at me. I think your blood pressure is spiking dangerously again. You need to breathe."
Tristan watched the interaction, his heart stopping as he noticed the way Isidore leaned heavily into the driver for support.
The defensive anger in Tristan's posture melted into pure, unadulterated panic. He took another step forward, his outstretched hand hovering in the empty air between them.
"What... what's wrong with him? What happened, Isidore?" Tristan demanded, his crystalline blue eyes flashing with fear.
Isidore's grip on Leon's sleeve tightened to a cruel degree, his knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white. He forced his eyes open, glaring through the haze of his failing vision at the man who had caused it all.
"Tell him..." Isidore hissed to Leon, his voice a lethal, trembling thread. "Tell him to stay the hell away from me."
Leon looked at Isidore's miserable, unraveling state, then lifted his eyes to meet Tristan's desperate gaze.
The driver slowly shook his head, a silent, sorrowful warning for the alpha to back off before he completely killed the man he claimed to love.
Tristan froze. His outstretched hand remained suspended in the space between them, trembling slightly. He wanted nothing more than to cross the remaining distance, to drop the child into Isidore's arms and hold them both until the world stopped spinning.
But the sheer terror in Isidore's eyes acts as an invisible, impassable wall. He was forced to stay back.
Behind them, the heavy glass doors of the terminal slid open once more, hissing against the London air.
Jesper and Jane finally crossed the threshold into the main entrance, their breathing ragged from the sprint across the drop-off lane. Jane's eyes were frantic as she smoothed down her coat, her gaze immediately darting across the vast, chaotic expanse of the crowded airport.
"Where the hell did he go?" Jane muttered, her sharp eyes scanning the sea of strangers, searching for that unmistakable fire of crimson hair.
Jesper stayed a half-step behind her, his calm demeanor entirely replaced by a calculated, hyper-vigilant focus.
"There," he said, his voice cutting through the noise as he pointed toward the gathering crowd near the security line. "He's already found them."
But side from them,
Isidore's patience did not merely fracture; it devolved into an absolute, unadulterated venom. The maternal instinct within him morphed from a protective shield into a lethal weapon.
Completely blind to the sea of onlookers and the flashing cameras, he unleashed a ragged, piercing cry that cleaved straight through the murmurs of the terminal.
"Give my child back to me!" Isidore hissed, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, vicious intensity that instantly polarized the crowd.
He took a jagged step forward, his pale face contorted by a cold, unrelenting malice.
"I don't want to see your face. Why did you even show up? Haven't you ruined enough of my life?!"
Leon stood entirely paralyzed between the two men, his hands hovering uselessly as he watched the volatile dynamic escalate.
Tristan braced his arms around the weeping child, his towering frame turning rigid. He swallowed back the explanation crowding his throat, his crystalline blue eyes pleading for a shred of rationality. He wanted to speak, to soothe the venom out of the air, but the universe refused to grant him the time.
Around them, the collective hesitation of the airport finally broke. The whispers began, spreading through the terminal like a fast-acting poison.
"Look, everyone... that's him. That's the famous Tristan Ashford," a passenger near the security ropes murmured, nudging the person beside them.
Tristan snapped his head around in a sudden wave of panic, his jaw clenching as he realized the perimeter had been breached. Leon's mismatched eyes widened in sheer terror, his gaze scanning the rapidly thickening wall of people.
But Isidore didn't care. He was entirely indifferent to the public gaze; his universe had narrowed to the boy clutched in his enemy's arms.
The crowd's murmurs grew more toxic by the second, fueled by the sensationalized headlines of the past.
"And that one... the one barking like a rabid animal... that's shameless Isidore davenant! who hurt our Ashford," a venomous voice shouted from the back of the circle. "The one who stabbed him!"
Leon's breath caught, his fists clenching as the cruel words began to pelt them from all sides.
"What is he even doing here?" a woman sneered, her eyes raking over Isidore's beige hair with disgust. "How dare he be so mean to Mr. Ashford after what he did?"
The court of public opinion had reached its verdict in a matter of seconds. The onlookers surged forward defensively, shielding their beloved "Hero" with a wall of righteous indignation, directing an unmitigated tide of hatred toward the trembling Omega.
Meanwhile, carving through the dense jungle of onlookers like a pair of sleek predators, Jesper and Jane aggressively parted the crowd.
"Move. Let us through," Jane commanded,
Jane stepped into the clearing, her sharp eyes instantly scanning the center of the conflict. The moment her gaze landed on the crimson hair of her brother, her eyes flew wide with absolute shock. Her breath hitched as she noticed the tiny, trembling figure securely scooped up in Tristan's one strong arm.
"It's... it's my brother's child," Jane whispered, her high-society composure completely evaporating.
She practically flew across the marble floor, approaching Tristan with an ecstatic, breathless squeal.
"Tristan! Is that your son? Can I see his face? Can I? Please, let me see him!"
Tristan shifted slightly, his body automatically turning into a protective barrier to shield the boy from his sister's overwhelming energy. "Jane, stop. Julian is deeply upset. I don't think he will—"
Before Tristan could finish, Julian slowly lifted his heavy, tear-stained face from the crook of his father's neck. He blinked his watery blue eyes through the haze of his hiccups, staring at the strange, beautiful woman who had suddenly materialized before them. He was totally unaware of the complex, dangerous scandal swirling around his small head.