Chapter 3

Hearing the voice, Serena panicked instantly. She hurriedly threw the camera onto the ground, her hands trembling. Then she bent down and forcefully pulled Lucas to his feet, slapping the dust off his clothes as if nothing had happened.

"Nothing happened. Lucas came looking for you, and I just played with him for a bit," she said with a fake smile, trying to sound light-hearted.

"Is that so?"

Kane frowned slightly, sensing something off. But before he could question further, Serena quickly cut in:

"Kane, it’s really cold out here. Take Lucas inside, will you?" she said sweetly, reaching out to gently pat Lucas’s head in a pretend gesture of care.

Lucas looked up at him slowly, revealing the cut on his forehead where blood was still trickling down. His little face was pale, but his eyes were filled with hope—hope that his father might finally show him a sliver of warmth, that maybe this time, Kane would hold him in his arms and ask him what had happened.

But what met him was not comfort—but disgust.

Kane’s expression turned cold the moment he saw the wound. His wolf surged with irritation, and his brows drew together in visible impatience.

"Did Kate treat you like this?" he asked, voice laced with disdain.

"She didn’t even care about your wound. It’s still bleeding. Tch—of course. She must’ve sent you here on purpose to get my attention."

"She actually thinks this kind of trick would work on me? How naïve."

Then he turned to Serena, his tone suddenly soft, full of concern.

"You’re too kind. Always letting her take advantage of you again and again. I don’t know why you still tolerate her."

Hearing this, both Lucas and I froze.

Lucas stood still, his tiny body trembling, lips slightly parted. His eyes widened in disbelief, and then—his face crumpled.

The dam broke. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and his voice came out in a choked sob.

"Dad… how can you say that about Mom?"

Perhaps the word “Dad” struck a chord somewhere in Kane’s heart, as his brows twitched slightly—but his eyes remained cold and indifferent.

“So? Why are you here this time? For money? Or something else?” he asked with biting sarcasm.

My pup clenched his small fists tightly, but didn’t dare say a word in protest.

He remembered all too clearly—once, he had tried to tell his father that Serena had bullied him, but Kane had immediately assumed that I had instructed Lucas to frame Serena. All because Serena had cried and pretended to be the victim, saying I was jealous of her.

And what was the result?

Kane locked me inside our den for an entire week, not allowing me to step outside as punishment.

That week, my pup was forcibly separated from me. Alone. Without comfort. Without explanation.

Remembering all of this, Lucas hesitated.

His lips trembled. For a long moment, he couldn’t speak.

Finally, with his head lowered and his voice barely audible, he whispered:

“Dad… can I borrow your feather?”

“I… I can’t wake Mom up.”

Kane froze on the spot.

For a moment, even he didn’t seem to realize the words that slipped from his mouth.

He asked instinctively, almost in a daze:

“What do you mean you can’t wake her up?”

“Didn’t she just donate 800cc of blood?”