Windsor's POV
Oliver and Kaylee exchanged a look that made my skin crawl. Their eyes held that familiar calculation, weighing whether truth would serve them better than lies. The silent debate lasted only moments before Kaylee made the choice for both of them.
"Oliver isn't my mate," she said, her voice steady but careful.
The words shouldn't have surprised me. I'd sensed the disconnect between them for years, the way they moved around each other like polite strangers sharing space. But hearing it confirmed still hit differently than suspecting it.
"My mate was Atticus Reese," Kaylee continued, and my world tilted sideways.
Atticus. The name crashed into me like cold water.
My father.
"He came from the North during the great famine," she said, her tone taking on an almost dreamy quality. "A volunteer. A farmer. Simple, but good."
