Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 229

LUCIEN'S POV

My ears rang. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped iron bands around my ribs and was slowly cranking them tighter.

I didn't even hear what Maximus said to the doctor. I just stood there, frozen, staring at that envelope like it was a live grenade with the pin half-pulled. My hands started shaking before I even realized it. Small tremors at first, then worse, until I could barely keep my arms crossed.

I don't remember moving to the couch. One second I was standing by the desk, the next I was sinking down onto the soft leather, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The envelope sat on my thigh now… my fingers curled around it, but I couldn't make them open it. Couldn't make myself look.

The door clicked shut behind the doctor. The sound felt final. Like the last second before a storm hits.

"Everything will be fine," Emilia said softly from beside me.

I didn't answer. Couldn't. My throat was too tight. My mind was screaming, replaying every second of that day on the training ground… Andrea clinging to my leg, calling me Daddy with those big, trusting eyes. Naomi standing there with that smug little smile, like she'd already won. And Adele… God, Adele. The way her face had gone pale, the hurt in her eyes when she walked away. We'd fought so hard to get here. Marked each other. Promised forever. And now this.

What if it was true?

What if Andrea really was mine?

The thought made my stomach lurch. A child. My child. With Naomi. Not Adele. Not my mate. Some mistake from years ago, some night I barely remembered, before Adele came into my life and made everything make sense.

I'd spent my whole life terrified of fatherhood because of what happened to my mom. Scared I'd curse any woman I loved the way my father said I cursed her. Adele had pulled me out of that darkness, told me it wasn't my fault, that I could be a good father. We'd talked about it—dreamed about it—quietly, in the dark, her head on my chest. A future. Our future.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The paper crinkled under my grip.

I have to open it, I thought. Just do it. Rip the damn thing open and know.

But I couldn't move.

Emilia shifted closer. I felt the couch dip, felt the warmth of her beside me. She didn't push. Didn't say anything stupid like "it'll be okay" again. She just waited.

I took a long, ragged breath. Forced my fingers to work. The flap tore slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. I pulled out the single sheet of paper, unfolded it with trembling hands.

My eyes scanned the words, but they blurred at first. Then they sharpened. Too sharp.

Paternity Probability: 99.9998%

The numbers stared back at me, cold and final.

He was mine.

Andrea was mine.

My heart didn't just sink—it crashed through the floor and kept falling. I felt sick. Dizzy. Like the room was tilting sideways.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe right.

I turned the paper toward Emilia, wordless, and held it out.

She took it gently. Read it. Her breath caught.

"Oh no," she whispered.

That small sound broke something in me. I buried my head in my hands, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes like I could push the truth back out.

"What am I going to do, Emilia?" My voice came out hoarse, cracked. "Am I not supposed to feel the child as mine? Then why can't I feel him as mine? And this report says he's mine. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

She didn't answer right away. Her hand came to rest on my shoulder—warm, steady. She squeezed gently.

"You take the child," she said quietly. "You and Adele will raise him. But you can't let the child's mother come between you two. Not for a second."

I lifted my head just enough to look at her. "Never," I said, the word fierce even through the storm inside me. "Nothing will ever come between me and Adele."

She gave me a small, sad smile. "Good."

I stared at the paper again, the black ink burning into my brain. A son. I had a son. A little boy who looked at me like I hung the moon, who'd already started calling me Daddy without knowing if it was true.

And now I knew it was.

I dragged a hand down my face, feeling the rough stubble, feeling how wrecked I was. "Now I have to think of how to tell Adele this… " My voice broke on her name. "The look on her face. God, the look on her face when I tell her he's really mine."

Maximus, who'd been silent this whole time, finally spoke from behind his desk. His voice was low, steady, the way it always was when shit got real.

"You have to tell her."

I nodded slowly, like the movement weighed a ton. "I'll have to tell her."

The words hung there, heavy and final.

I pictured it—walking into our room, Adele looking up from whatever she was doing, that soft smile she saved just for me. Then watching it fade, watching the hurt bloom in her eyes again. Worse than before. Because before it was just a possibility. Now it was fact. A living, breathing, three-year-old fact.

Would she stay?

Would she look at me the same way?

Would she still want to build a future with me when part of that future now belonged to someone else?

I didn't know.

And that not-knowing felt like a knife twisting slowly in my chest.

The room stayed quiet. Emilia's hand stayed on my shoulder. Maximus watched me with those unreadable king eyes. The envelope lay crumpled on my lap.

I had to tell her.

Soon.

But the thought of watching Adele's heart break all over again made me want to run. Made me want to shift and disappear into the woods until the pain dulled.

Except I couldn't run.

Not from this.

Not from her.

I closed my eyes, took one last shaky breath, and whispered:

"I'm going to lose her."

No one answered.

Because deep down, we all knew it was possible.