Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One - Chapter 249

Chapter 249: What Are Your Intentions
Hailee’s POV

After a while, Nathan started to look tired again. His voice softened, his eyelids drooped, and Oscar had begun to talk quietly about everything he’d seen on the plane. I touched Oscar’s shoulder gently. “Let your dad rest now,” I whispered. “He needs to sleep a little.”

Oscar nodded, though he looked reluctant. “Can I come back later?”

“Of course,” Nathan said softly. “You can come back anytime, champ.”

Oscar smiled, brushed his hand over his father’s bandaged arm, and whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Nathan gave a weak laugh. “Me too.”

I stood, helped Oscar off the bed, and tucked the blanket back around Nathan. “Rest,” I said quietly.

He caught my hand for a moment before I could pull away. “Thank you,” he murmured.

I smiled faintly. “Sleep, Nathan.”

Then Oscar and I left the room.

Oscar insisted on showing me around the house like he was the tour guide. He pointed at every hallway, every painting, and even the big stairway, explaining things as if he had lived there forever. “Dad told me he learned to fight here,” he said, pointing at a wide corridor. “He said he used to sneak out of training and hide in that corner.”

I smiled. “Sounds like your dad.”

We were just turning toward the garden when I heard a calm but deep voice behind us. “Hailee.”

I turned. It was Nathan’s father.

He stood tall, silver hair neat, his posture strict and proud as always. His eyes—sharp and cold—softened only slightly when they landed on Oscar. “You must be Oscar,” he said.

Oscar looked up at me, unsure, then back at him. “Yes, sir.”

The older man gave a short nod. “Welcome, boy.” Then his gaze slid to me. “And you, Hailee.”

I bowed my head slightly. “Sir.”

“You’ve had a long trip,” he said. “Thank you for bringing my grandson.”

“It’s his grandmother’s birthday,” I said politely. “We couldn’t miss it.”

He smiled thinly. “Of course.” Then, after a pause, he added, “May I have a word with you? Alone.”

Oscar frowned, but before he could speak, Nathan’s father turned to one of the maids nearby. “Take the young prince to the gardens,” he ordered gently. “Show him the fountains.”

“Yes, my lord,” the maid said, smiling at Oscar.

Oscar looked up at me, uncertain. I bent down and brushed his hair back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“Okay, Mom.” He followed the maid reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing around the corner.

I turned back to Nathan’s father. “What did you want to talk about?”

He studied me quietly, his face unreadable. “Walk with me.”

I followed him down the hall and into his office. The room was large, lined with books and old portraits, the smell of cedar and parchment heavy in the air. Sunlight came through a tall window and fell across his desk, where a stack of papers waited neatly arranged.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to a chair.

I sat carefully, folding my hands in my lap. He stayed standing for a moment, then opened a drawer and pulled out a thick folder. He set it down in front of me and flipped it open.

Inside were photos—many photos—of women.

I frowned. “What is this?”

He gave a small, humorless smile. “These,” he said, sliding one picture toward me, “are the daughters of Alphas, Betas, and nobles who have sent marriage proposals for my son over the years.”

He turned another page. More faces. Young women, all beautiful, all dressed in fine clothes.

“Princesses,” he went on. “Future Lunas. He could have chosen any of them. Some were from powerful packs. Some offered alliances, peace, trade. Every one of them wanted him.”

I looked down at the photos, my chest tightening. “And?”

“And,” he said, his voice dropping, “he rejected them all.”

He sat across from me now, eyes steady. “Do you know why?”

I stayed quiet.

He leaned forward slightly. “Because of you.”

My breath caught. “That’s not—”

“It’s the truth,” he interrupted, calm but firm. “He told me once, long ago, that he would never give his heart to anyone else. I didn’t believe him then, but I do now.”

I stared at the folder. The pictures blurred. My fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.

He continued, his tone softer now but still edged with authority. “You have been the shadow behind every decision he’s made. Every woman he turned away. Every alliance he risked losing. And now you are here again.”

He paused, letting the silence hang heavy between us. “So tell me, Hailee… what is your intention with my son?”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I—I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I didn’t come here to make plans or promises. I came because he was hurt. Because he asked for his son. That’s all.”

He watched me quietly, eyes sharp, like he could see through the words to whatever I was trying to hide—even from myself.

“Maybe,” he said finally, leaning back. “But understand this. My son’s loyalty is dangerous. He loves deeply, and when he does, he doesn’t stop. Not for reason, not for politics, not for power. He would burn down a kingdom for the people he loves.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine.

He sighed and closed the folder slowly. “I will not stop him from loving you, Hailee,” he said. “But if you are only here to visit and leave him broken again, then leave now. Before you do more damage.”

I looked up at him. “I never meant to hurt him.”

“I believe you,” he said quietly. “But meaning well doesn’t protect anyone.”

For a moment, we both sat in silence. The weight of everything unsaid filled the room—the past, the mistakes, the years lost between us all.

Then a knock came at the door. A guard stepped in. “My lord, lunch is ready.”

Nathan’s father gave a short nod and looked back at me. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “Then come to lunch. He’ll want you there.”

I nodded slowly, rising from the chair. My hands felt cold.

As I walked back through the hall toward the sound of laughter downstairs, I could still hear his words echoing in my mind—

He rejected them all because of you.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if that was something to be proud of… or afraid of.