Free Web NovelChapter 44: Chapter 44
After soaking in a long, steaming bath, Fleur finally felt the bone-deep exhaustion begin to leave her body. The warmth had eased the lingering chill from the snowstorm, but it did little to quiet the turbulent storm raging inside her mind.
Moving quickly, she changed into fresh clothes and began organizing their belongings. Suitcases were snapped shut, garments folded, and toiletries packed away with practiced efficiency. Every motion was fueled by a restless urgency; the sooner they checked out of this suite and returned home, the better.
As she zipped up the final bag, a sudden prickle of awareness washed over her. She sensed a presence behind her before she even heard him.
Turning around, she found Christian standing a few feet away, a sleek smartphone held loosely in his hand. Without a word, he extended it toward her.
"Talk to your children."
His voice carried its characteristic, unyielding firmness, yet Fleur caught an unusual cadence beneath the command—something softer, almost hesitant.
Her heart tightened unexpectedly at the tone. Taking the phone, she pressed it to her ear with a breathless, "Hello?"
"Mom!" Gabriel’s excited voice burst through the speaker, instantly shattering the tension in the room. "Where are you? You disappeared!"
A genuine smile bloomed across Fleur’s face, the heavy anxiety she had been carrying finally melting away.
"I got stuck in a snowstorm, sweetheart," she explained, her voice softening into a gentle, soothing rhythm. "But everything is fine now. I’m on my way home. How are you and Chloe?"
"We’re okay!" Gabriel announced proudly.
"We’re perfectly fine, Mom," a second voice chimed in. It was Chloe, her tone striking its usual calm, mature contrast to her twin’s excitement. "Aunt Lea is taking care of us."
"You’re on speaker," Lea’s dry voice informed her from somewhere in the background.
Fleur laughed softly, the sound rich with relief. "Thank you for looking after them."
"Oh, please," Lea snorted playfully. "You never need to thank me for taking care of my favorite twins."
Then, the playfulness vanished, replaced by sharp concern. "Are you really alright? I heard the storm in Fontainebleau was brutal."
"I’m fine." Fleur’s gaze drifted across the luxurious suite.
Christian had drifted toward the window, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he stared out at the blanketed, white landscape. Or, at least, that was the facade he was presenting.
Fleur knew better. His wolf was awake, alert, and listening to every single syllable echoing from the phone.
"Christian Wayne is with me," Fleur added carefully, her eyes lingering on his broad back. "So don’t worry."
A brief, heavy silence fell over the line. Then, Gabriel asked the one question Fleur had been silently dreading.
"Mom? Who’s Christian Wayne?"
Fleur nearly choked on her own breath. Across the room, Christian’s shoulders visibly stiffened.
"He is..." She hesitated, searching for a safe, sterile word. "A client."
Christian slowly turned his head. The icy, piercing look he leveled at her suggested he was deeply offended by the corporate title. Fleur pointedly ignored him, but unfortunately, Lea wasn’t there to read the room.
"Wait a minute," Lea’s voice sharpened with immediate suspicion. "I thought you traveled to Fontainebleau with Damien."
Fleur closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Lea..."
"So why are you suddenly with Christian Wayne?"
"It’s a long story," Fleur countered tightly. A very long story—and one she had absolutely no intention of explaining over a speakerphone with the Alpha King himself listening. "I’ll tell you everything when I get home."
"Oh, we are definitely having that conversation," Lea warned.
Fleur let out a quiet groan. Before Lea could press further, Chloe’s voice returned to rescue her.
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"The nice man who called us yesterday..."
Fleur froze, the blood running cold in her veins. Slowly, she lifted her gaze back to Christian. He met her eyes, looking entirely unrepentant.
"Which nice man?" she asked, her voice tight and measured.
"The one who asked if Gabriel and I were eating properly."
Fleur blinked, stunned. Had Christian spoken to them on his own?
"He asked us lots of questions," Lea continued, sounding oddly pleased by the memory. "He wanted to know what books I like to read."
"And he asked me what kind of wolves I draw!" Gabriel added excitedly.
Fleur stared openly at Christian now, her mind reeling. The formidable Alpha King suddenly found the snowy landscape outside absolutely fascinating again, though a telltale muscle ticked sharply in his jaw. It was the closest thing to sheer embarrassment Fleur had ever seen from him.
Her chest tightened with a sudden, bittersweet ache. Moon Goddess. He had spoken to her children. Not out of obligation or necessity, but because he had genuinely wanted to.
A painful throb spread through her heart. If life had unfolded differently... if fate had been just a little kinder, those phone calls would never have been necessary. Christian would have already been there. He would have been watching them grow, teaching them, protecting them.
Being their father.
The thought cut deeper than she cared to admit. Forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat, she cleared her dry voice.
"Okay, little wolves. I need to check out of the hotel now."
"When will you be home?" Gabriel asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.
"About an hour."
"Promise?"
Fleur smiled, her expression softening completely. "Promise."
After exchanging a few more brief goodbyes, the call ended, and a profound silence fell over the suite. Fleur walked over and handed the device back.
"Thank you," she murmured, the words coming out much softer and more raw than she had intended.
Christian merely nodded, slipping the phone into his pocket. "The pups are safe," he said, the simple statement carrying an unexpected, grounding warmth. "You can stop worrying now."
Fleur opened her mouth, but found she didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t wrap her mind around when Christian Wayne had started paying such fierce attention to her children. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
What she didn’t know—what he hadn’t told her—was that his elite warriors had been guarding her home around the clock ever since the attack. Christian had ordered it personally. And after hearing Gabriel and Chloe’s voices, his wolf had recognized something fiercely precious. Something worth protecting at any cost.
"Can we leave now?" Fleur asked quietly, eager to escape the suffocating intimacy of the room.
Christian glanced toward the neatly packed luggage. "After breakfast."
The reminder immediately shifted her focus back to his health. Driven by a lingering worry she couldn’t entirely suppress, she stepped closer and pressed her open palm against his forehead.
Instantly, Christian’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. His striking silver eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
Fleur swallowed hard against the sudden heat of his grip. "Checking your fever."
For a fraction of a second, something unreadable and fiercely intense flashed across his features. Then, the tension in his grip loosened, his expression softening. "I’m fine."
She checked anyway. His temperature had finally returned to normal, and a wave of genuine relief washed over her.
"Yes," she whispered, a small, breathless smile touching her lips. "You are."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted the heavy moment. Christian released her hand and moved to open it, admitting the room service waiter who efficiently set up their breakfast.
Once they were alone again, Fleur automatically moved toward the coffee service. It was driven by old habits, born of ancient memories; once upon a time, she had prepared his coffee exactly to his liking every single morning.
But before her fingers could touch the silver pot, Christian stepped in, cutting her off. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, turning freezing and taut.
"I’ve been doing everything myself for six years."
The underlying coldness in his voice startled her, freezing her in place. Six years. The specific number hit her like a physical blow to the chest.
Christian poured himself a cup of coffee, his movements slow, deliberate, and agonizingly tense. "Six years since my wife left."
The words hung in the air, suffocatingly heavy. Then, he turned to look directly at her. His silver eyes were piercing, utterly capable of stripping away every lie, every carefully constructed disguise, and every secret she held dear.
Fleur’s pulse thundered in her ears like a trapped bird. Unable to hold his gaze, she forced herself to look away.
"I’m sorry," she whispered, the apology feeling painfully, mockingly inadequate.
Christian’s gaze never wavered. "Are you?"
The dark challenge in his tone sent a sharp chill cascading down her spine. Desperate for a distraction, Fleur focused entirely on arranging food on her plate, doing anything to avoid looking at him.
"I heard..." She hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "I read that your wife died in a plane crash."
The temperature in the room dropped to absolute zero.
"That’s a lie."
Christian’s voice cracked through the silence like a whip. Fleur nearly dropped her fork, a sudden surge of panic flooding her system.
Moon Goddess, how had she forgotten who she was dealing with? This was Christian Wayne. A supreme wolf who could smell fear in the air, a predator who missed nothing, a king whose sharp instincts were lethal. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to retreat.
"My wife is alive," he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous register.
Fleur slowly lifted her eyes. Christian was staring at her, unblinking, searching her face as though trying to read something hidden deep beneath her skin. For one terrifying, heart-stopping second, she thought the game was up.
She thought he knew—that he had finally seen through the years, the alias, and the new identity. She thought he had recognized her.
Then, the terrifying intensity in his eyes fractured. A wave of raw, ancient, and entirely unhealed pain flickered across his features.
"My wife is alive," he repeated softly, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that ruined her. Slowly, his hand tightened into a fist around his coffee cup, before he moved it, pressing it hard against his chest.
"In here."
He held his fist against his heart—the heart that had never stopped searching, the place where he still carried her ghost.
