Ashton's POV
I sat in my car outside the airport, hands shaking so badly I couldn't start the engine.
"You need to go home," Marcus said from the passenger seat. "You look like you're about to pass out."
But I couldn't move. Couldn't think about anything except those gray eyes staring back at me. My son's eyes. My eyes.
"I have children." The words came out like I was testing them, seeing if they were real. "Marcus, I have a son. Maybe a daughter too. I couldn't see her face clearly but—"
"I know." Marcus's voice was heavy. "I saw them."
"He was pregnant." My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. "At the gala. When I stood on that stage and called him a mistake. Kieran was carrying my children and I—"
I couldn't finish. The horror of it was choking me.
My phone buzzed. A text from my mother: "I heard about your embarrassing display at the airport. Come to the house immediately. We need to discuss damage control."
Damage control. Like my children were a scandal to manage.
I threw the phone across the car. It hit the dashboard and fell into the footwell. Marcus didn't even flinch.
"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly.
"I need to see that photo again." I pulled out my tablet, opening the private investigator's report I'd received that morning. There—a family picture from some charity event. Kieran in an elegant suit, the twins on either side of him, and that Alpha—Darius Kane—standing behind them with his hands on Kieran's shoulders.
They looked like a perfect family. Happy. Complete.
Without me.
"The boy's name is Storm," I said, zooming in on his face. "The girl is Sage. They're four years and two months old. Born February 14th."
"Valentine's Day babies," Marcus murmured.
"I missed their birth." My voice cracked. "I missed everything. First steps. First words. First day of school. Four years of firsts and I wasn't there for any of them."
"Because you didn't know—"
"Because I was a coward!" I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. "I could have fought my mother. Could have stood up for Kieran. But I was scared of losing money and status and her approval. And now I've lost everything that actually mattered."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What are you really going to do, Ash? File for custody? Fight Kieran in court? Those kids don't know you. You'd be traumatizing them."
"They're my children. I have rights—"
"You have biology," Marcus corrected. "That's not the same thing."
His words stung because they were true. Storm had looked at me like I was a stranger. A scary stranger. And Sage had cried. My own daughter had been afraid of me.
I scrolled through more photos on the investigator's report. The twins at the park. At their preschool. At Kieran's company, sitting in his office while he worked. Every picture showed the same thing: happy children who didn't need me.
Then I found one that made me stop breathing.
It was from a hospital. Four years ago. Kieran lying in a bed, looking exhausted but beautiful, holding two tiny newborns. The timestamp said 3:47 AM. And Kieran's eyes—even in the photo, I could see the tears.
He'd been alone. Completely alone when our children were born.
"I need to talk to him," I said suddenly. "I need to explain—"
"He won't listen. You saw how he looked at you. That wasn't anger, Ash. That was hate."
"Then I'll make him listen!" I was shouting now. "I'll camp outside his house. I'll follow him to work. I'll—"
"You'll get arrested for stalking." Marcus grabbed my arm. "Think. You're acting crazy. You need to be smart about this."
But I didn't want to be smart. I wanted to turn back time. Wanted to go back five years and make different choices. Wanted to be the man who stood beside Kieran at that hospital at 3:47 AM.
My phone rang from the footwell. Marcus picked it up and answered. "Hello? Yes, this is his phone." His face went pale. "What? When?" He looked at me with something like pity. "We'll be right there."
"What happened?"
"That was your mother's housekeeper." Marcus's voice was flat. "Your mother collapsed. She's in the hospital. Heart attack."
I should have felt something. Fear. Worry. Love. But all I felt was cold rage.
"She did this," I said quietly. "She's the reason I lost Kieran. The reason I missed four years with my children. If she hadn't threatened him, if she hadn't forced me to choose—"
"Ashton, she's your mother. And she might be dying."
"Good."
The word hung in the air between us. Marcus stared at me like he didn't recognize me.
"I don't mean that," I said, but my voice was empty. "I just—I can't do this right now. I can't sit by her hospital bed and hold her hand and pretend she didn't destroy my life."
"Then what will you do?"
I looked down at the hospital photo of Kieran again. At his exhausted, tear-stained face. At the two tiny babies he was holding alone.
"I'm going to find him," I decided. "I'm going to make him understand that I didn't know. That if I had known about the pregnancy, I would have fought. I would have chosen him."
"Would you have?" Marcus asked softly. "Really? Five years ago, when you were still terrified of your mother, still desperate for her approval—would you really have chosen Kieran over everything?"
The question hit me like a punch.
Because the truth was, I didn't know.
Five years ago, I'd been weak. Scared. I'd let my mother control me. Let her convince me that Kieran wasn't good enough, wasn't worth fighting for.
But now? Now I'd do anything. Sacrifice anything.
Too late.
I picked up my phone and opened the message app. Typed quickly: "I know you hate me. I know I don't deserve a second chance. But those children deserve to know their father. Please don't punish them for my mistakes. We need to talk. Tomorrow. I'm not asking anymore. I'm begging."
Then I scrolled through my photos until I found the one I'd been keeping like a secret for five years. Me and Kieran at the campus gardens, three days before I destroyed everything. We looked so happy. So in love.
I'd taken it the day I decided I wanted to marry him. The day I'd looked at him laughing in the sunlight and thought: This is forever.
Three days before I proved I didn't deserve forever.
I attached the photo and wrote at the bottom: "The day I realized I wanted forever with you. Three days before I destroyed everything. I'm so sorry."
My finger hovered over the send button.
"This is a bad idea," Marcus warned. "You're going to make him angrier."
"I have to try."
I hit send.
Then I opened my email and typed a message to my lawyer: "File for emergency paternity testing. I want DNA confirmation and a custody hearing as soon as legally possible. I don't care what it costs."
Send.
Marcus shook his head. "You're declaring war."
"No," I said quietly. "I'm fighting for my family. There's a difference."
My phone buzzed. A response from Kieran, faster than I expected.
But it wasn't words. It was a photo.
My hands shook as I opened it.
It was the same hospital picture I'd just seen in the investigator's report. Kieran, exhausted and alone, holding our newborn twins. But this version had something the other didn't—writing at the bottom in Kieran's handwriting:
"3:47 AM. The moment I became both Mama and Papa. The moment I realized I'd never forgive you. They asked if I wanted to call the father. I said their father was dead. And I meant it."
Below that, one more line that destroyed me completely:
"You were dead to us then. You're dead to us now. Stay away from my children, or I'll make sure every court in the country knows you're the Alpha who abandoned his pregnant mate. See how your custody petition goes then."
I stared at the message, my vision blurring.
Kieran had declared me dead four years ago. Erased me from our children's lives before they even took their first breath.
And the terrifying part?
I couldn't even blame him.
But I also couldn't walk away.
Not again.
Never again.