Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 179

ISOLDE'S POV

Father gently pulled me away from his embrace, studying my tear-stained face with careful eyes. His gaze was different now—filled with a concern I hadn't seen in years. The fine lines around his eyes had deepened, and gray streaked his once purely dark hair, evidence of the stress he'd been under.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative, as if afraid of my answer.

I nodded, offering a teary smile. "Better lately."

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, and I could see the genuine relief in his eyes.

"Dad, I know you're probably angry with me about Sybilla," I said, the words tumbling out before I could lose my nerve. My hands twisted nervously in front of me. "I understand if you blame me for what's happening to her."

Father's brow furrowed in confusion. "Angry with you? Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because Sybilla is being detained because of me," I explained, watching his reaction carefully. I'd spent so many sleepless nights worrying about this confrontation, imagining his disappointment and rage.

He shook his head firmly. "This isn't because of you. Her actions have caught up with her... I've heard what she's done." He paused, his expression darkening. "I'm truly sorry for everything you've endured at your sister's hands."

His words hit me like a physical force. I hadn't expected understanding, let alone an apology.

"You don't blame me?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

"No, Isolde. I blame myself," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I should have seen how she was treating you. I should have protected you. Instead, I was blind to what was happening right under my nose."

I wiped at my tears, overwhelmed by his unexpected support. The weight that had been crushing my chest for weeks began to lift slightly. After gathering my courage, I decided to ask the question that had been haunting me.

"Dad, there's something I need to ask you... about Mom. My birth mother..." I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "I need to know where she is, if she's still alive."

A flash of concern crossed his face, but he didn't seem surprised by my question. Something in his eyes told me he'd been expecting this day to come.

"She's still alive," he said quietly. "I've kept tabs on her since she left, so I know."

I stared at him in shock, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You what?"

The revelation stunned me. All these years, he had known where my mother was while I wondered if she was even alive. I'd created countless scenarios in my mind—she'd died, she'd forgotten me, she'd started a new family—but never had I imagined my father secretly keeping track of her.

"I should never have brought your stepmother into our home," he continued, his eyes downcast, shoulders slumping with the weight of his confession. "I should never have married her... Your mother comes from the Sapphire District. Her family has considerable influence there."

I tried to process this information, but my mind was spinning. My mother was from one of the most powerful districts in the city, with a family of significant standing. A whole side of my heritage I knew nothing about.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. All those years of wondering, of feeling abandoned and unwanted.

The sorrow in my father's eyes was profound, a well of regret so deep I could almost drown in it. "I was ashamed, Isolde. I made terrible choices that hurt both you and your mother. And then I compounded those mistakes by neglecting you in favor of Sybilla."

I could see the weight of his regret in every line of his face. Despite everything, my heart ached for him. He looked broken, diminished from the powerful Alpha I'd known growing up.

"Thank you, father," I said softly, meaning it. At least now I had a direction, a place to start looking if I wanted to find her.

He pulled me into another embrace, holding me tightly as if afraid I might disappear. "You don't need to thank me... They've told me about your relationship with Alpha Ezra. I'm happy for you," he said, his voice brightening slightly. "I always knew you were destined for greatness, Isolde. You'll be the Lycan King's Luna. That's significant... I know you'll lead these wolves magnificently!"

Tears welled in my eyes again, but this time I managed a genuine smile. It felt surreal to have my father's approval and support after so long without it. For years, I'd craved just a fraction of the attention he lavished on Sybilla.

The moment was shattered when the office door suddenly burst open with a loud bang. My stepmother stood in the doorway, her face contorted with rage. Her normally perfect appearance was disheveled, her eyes wild with fury.

"I'm sure she will!" she spat sarcastically, venom dripping from every word. Her gaze shifted to my father, narrowing dangerously. "Our daughter is outside waiting for judgment and sentencing... and you're in here, hugging this bitch, having the time of your life!"

My father immediately moved to stand between us, his body tensing as he assumed a protective stance. His voice dropped to a dangerous tone that I rarely heard him use. "Stay where you are."

"Sybilla brought this on herself," I called out from behind my father's protective stance, finding courage in his support.

"Don't come any closer," my father warned her again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My stepmother's eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth falling open. "You're actually standing against me for her."

"This is something I should have done every day of my life!" he shot back, his voice rising with conviction. "Sybilla created this mess herself... How can you still take Sybilla's side after hearing what she's done?"

Her face twisted with hatred as she looked between us. "Who do you expect me to side with? Her?" She pointed at me, her finger trembling with fury. "I would rather die. If Sybilla is sentenced to death today, her blood will be on your hands. Yours, Isolde! You are the reason my daughter might die prematurely, and I will never forgive you for it!"

Her scream echoed through the luxurious office as she stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the paintings on the wall shuddered.

Father turned to me with an apologetic look, but I shook my head. This was the consequence of her raising Sybilla to be a spoiled socialite who believed she could get away with anything.

In this world, everyone was accountable for their actions.