Chapter 6 – Three Faces, One Truth

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The morning air carried a quiet chill as Lucien stood outside the modest townhouse Serena called home. It was far from the sleek steel and glass of his world—this place had worn brick walls, a small front garden, and the faint scent of lavender drifting from somewhere nearby.

He’d barely slept since their meeting at the café. Every nerve in him was wound tight, an Alpha’s instinct screaming to see his offspring, to confirm with his own eyes that they were real.

When the door opened, Serena stood there in a soft sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders. There was a guarded look in her eyes, but beneath it… something else.

“You’re early,” she said.

“I didn’t sleep.”

She hesitated, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

Inside, the space was warm and lived-in—scattered toys, a blanket draped over the couch, faint crayon marks on the coffee table. Lucien’s gaze moved over it all like a man starved for detail, absorbing every sign of the lives lived here.

Then he heard it.

The sound of small voices—two giggling, one humming to herself—coming from the hallway.

Serena motioned for him to follow.

When they reached the playroom, Lucien froze.

Three small figures sat on the floor, surrounded by building blocks and plush toys. A little boy with storm-gray eyes looked up first, his face a miniature reflection of Lucien’s own. A girl with dark hair and the same sharp jawline turned next, blinking at him curiously. The third—a smaller girl with a shy smile—peeked at him from behind her sister.

Lucien felt the air leave his lungs. He wasn’t prepared. He thought he’d be ready, but seeing them… it was like someone had cracked open his chest and poured light straight into him.

The boy tilted his head. “Who are you?”

Serena knelt beside him, her voice calm. “This is… a friend, sweetheart.”

Lucien crouched down, meeting the boy’s gaze. “Hi,” he said quietly. “I’m Lucien.”

The girl beside him piped up, “Lucien? That’s a weird name.”

Despite himself, Lucien almost laughed. “It probably is.”

The smallest girl whispered, “You have eyes like ours.”

That hit him harder than he expected. “I guess I do.”

He wanted to reach out, but instinct told him to let them come to him. So he sat on the floor, letting them circle him like curious little wolves. Within minutes, the boy—Eli, Serena called him—was showing Lucien his block tower, while the older girl—Aria—quizzed him about whether he liked dinosaurs or tea parties better. The youngest, Lila, stayed close to Serena but watched him with wide, thoughtful eyes.

Serena stood by, arms crossed, observing every interaction. Lucien could feel her measuring him—not as a businessman or an Alpha, but as a father.

Hours seemed to pass in minutes. It wasn’t until Serena gently told the triplets it was naptime that they reluctantly said goodbye.

When they were gone, Lucien turned to her. “They’re incredible.”

“They’re mine,” she said softly.

“They’re ours,” he corrected, his voice firm.

Serena looked away, her jaw tightening. “You don’t get to just walk in and claim them, Lucien. It doesn’t work like that.”

He stepped closer. “I’m not walking away. Not this time.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them—a recognition, an understanding that the past was no longer just the past.

**

Across the city, Clara lounged in a high-backed chair at an upscale lounge, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her wine glass. The man seated across from her—a low-level paparazzo with a penchant for cash over morals—shifted nervously under her gaze.

“You’re sure you can get the pictures?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “But it’ll cost you.”

Clara smiled thinly. “Money isn’t the issue. I just want proof. Proof that Lucien has… entanglements he’s been hiding.”

She imagined Serena—whoever she was—thinking she could waltz into Lucien’s life and stay. That wasn’t going to happen.

No, Clara Vale didn’t lose. And when she was finished, Serena would be nothing more than a shadow in Lucien’s past.

Back at Serena’s townhouse, Lucien stood in the doorway, reluctant to leave.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a promise I asked for.”

“It’s one I’m making anyway.”

When he left, Serena closed the door slowly, leaning against it for a long moment.

She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust the way her pulse had quickened when he’d looked at the children, or the way his voice had softened when speaking to them.

And she definitely didn’t trust the feeling that, for the first time in years, she wasn’t entirely alone.

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