ASHER'S POV
I delete the text three times before finally hitting send.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned lawyers. Can we please talk? Just the two of us. No threats. I promise."
My phone stays silent. No response. Not even the three dots that show he's typing.
It's been two hours since I sent those lawyer texts last night, and I haven't heard anything back. Which means either Ezra's ignoring me, or he's calling his own lawyers right now to make sure I never get near those children again.
Both options make me want to throw up.
"You look terrible," Marcus says, walking into my office without knocking. "Did you sleep at all?"
"No." I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. My hair is a mess. I probably smell like stress and desperation. "Tell me you found something."
He drops a thick folder on my desk. "Everything you asked for. And some things you didn't."
I rip it open immediately. The first page is a birth certificate. Two birth certificates, actually.
LILY ROSE QUINLANDate of Birth: March 15th (four years ago) Mother: Ezra Quinlan
Father: [blank]
LUCAS JAMES QUINLAN
Date of Birth: March 15th (four years ago) Mother: Ezra Quinlan
Father: [blank]
My hands start shaking. "He didn't list anyone."
"No father on record," Marcus confirms. "Which means legally, Ezra has sole custody. No one else has parental rights."
"But they're MINE." I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the way my wolf went absolutely insane the moment I saw them. "Marcus, those are my children."
"I believe you. But you'll need DNA proof for court."
"Then we'll get DNA proof."
"That requires either Ezra's permission or a court order. And getting a court order means filing a paternity suit, which means—"
"War." The word tastes bitter. "It means war with Ezra."
Marcus nods grimly. "Is that really what you want? To drag him through court? Force him to prove those kids are yours when he's clearly trying to protect them from you?"
"I'm not a threat to my own children!"
"He doesn't know that. From his perspective, you're the guy who destroyed him five years ago and is now showing up demanding rights to kids you never knew existed." Marcus flips to another page. "Speaking of which—medical records. Do you want to know what Ezra went through?"
I grab the pages, scanning quickly. The words blur together: emergency C-section... severe hemorrhaging... blood transfusion... critical condition...
"He almost died," I whisper.
"Twenty-two hours of labor. Alone. No mate, no pack, no family. Just a friend who showed up afterward." Marcus's voice is quiet. "The doctor's notes say he was in shock—physically and emotionally. Kept asking if the babies were okay but wouldn't let anyone examine him because he didn't have insurance and was terrified of the medical bills."
My vision goes red around the edges. "He had no insurance?"
"He'd left his pack. You know how it works—no pack means no benefits. He paid for everything out of pocket, and nearly bankrupted himself doing it."
I'm going to be sick. While Ezra was bleeding out after bringing my children into the world, I was probably at some pack dinner. Drinking wine. Making business deals. Living my comfortable life.
"There's more," Marcus says carefully. "About Kai Volkov."
"I don't want to hear about him."
"You need to. Because he's not going away." Marcus pulls out more documents. "Kai Volkov, Alpha of the Volkov Pack. Known for being progressive, supporting Omega rights, taking in rogues. His first mate died three years ago—cancer. They never completed the bond, so he survived."
Each word feels like a punch. "When did he meet Ezra?"
"About two years ago, according to public records. First spotted together at a business conference. Since then, they've been to dozens of events together—charity galas, pack meetings, school functions with the twins."
"School functions." The image makes me want to break something. "He goes to my children's school events."
"Your children call him Papa," Marcus reminds me gently. "He's been their father figure for two years. That's not going to be easy to undo."
"I don't care about easy!"
"Then what DO you care about?" Marcus leans forward, voice intense. "Because I've known you my whole life, Asher. And I've never seen you like this. Is this about the kids? Or is this about Ezra?"
The question stops me cold.
"Both," I admit finally. "It's both. Those children are mine—I can feel it. My wolf recognized them instantly. But Ezra..." My voice breaks. "I've been half-alive for five years, Marcus. Every day without him has been torture. And now he's back, and I have a chance—maybe my only chance—to fix what I destroyed."
"You can't force someone to forgive you."
"I know. But I can show him I've changed. I can prove I'm not the coward who threw him away." I stand up, suddenly filled with determination. "I need to see him. Today. Talk to him face to face."
"He's not going to agree to meet you."
"Then I'll find him at work. His consulting firm has offices downtown, right?"
Marcus sighs. "This is a bad idea."
"It's the only idea I have."
Thirty minutes later, I'm standing outside the coffee shop near Ezra's office building, holding two cups and feeling like an idiot.
Caramel macchiato, extra hot, two pumps vanilla. His exact order from five years ago. I don't even know if he still drinks it, but it's all I have—this tiny piece of memory from when he was mine.
My phone buzzes. Text from Marcus:
"Don't do this. You're going to make everything worse."
But I'm already walking toward the building. Through the glass doors, across the marble lobby, toward the elevator bank where I can see him standing with his phone, completely unaware I'm here.
He's wearing a business suit that fits perfectly. His honey-gold hair is pulled back. He looks professional, confident, successful—nothing like the broken boy I left behind.
This Ezra built an empire from nothing. Raised two children alone. Survived when I thought I'd destroyed him.
I'm so proud of him it physically hurts.
And I'm about to ruin his day by ambushing him with coffee and apologies he doesn't want.
"Ezra."
He looks up, and I watch his expression shift from surprise to fury in a heartbeat.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought you coffee." I hold out the cup like an offering. "Your favorite. I remembered."
His eyes narrow. "How did you know where I work?"
"I... asked around." (I hired investigators.) "I wanted to talk to you. Without the lawyers, without the anger. Just us."
"There is no 'just us.'" His voice is ice. "You made sure of that five years ago."
"I know. And I'm sorry. Ezra, I'm so—"
"Sorry?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You show up at my workplace after sending threatening texts about custody lawyers, and you think SORRY fixes anything?"
"I wasn't threatening—"
"Yes, you were!" Several people in the lobby turn to stare. Ezra lowers his voice, but the fury remains. "You hired a lawyer. You investigated me and my children. You tracked down where we live, where they go to school. That's not apologizing. That's stalking."
"I needed to know they were safe!"
"They WERE safe until you showed up!"
The words hit like a slap. "Ezra, please. I just want a chance to explain—"
"Explain what? How you humiliated me in front of everyone? How you called our relationship FUN and threw me away like garbage? Or maybe you want to explain how you never once—not ONCE in five years—tried to find me?" His amber eyes are wet now. "I was pregnant, Asher. Alone and terrified and pregnant with your children. And you never even checked if I was okay."
"I didn't know—"
"Because you didn't CARE to know!"
The truth of it crushes me. He's right. I could have searched for him. Could have reached out. Could have done a thousand things differently.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but movement behind Ezra catches my eye.
Kai Volkov is walking across the lobby toward us, and his expression is murderous.
"Ezra," he calls out, protective and possessive. "Everything okay?"
"It's fine," Ezra says quickly, but his voice shakes. "Asher was just leaving."
"No, I wasn't—"
Kai steps between us, and suddenly I'm face to face with the man who's been raising my children. He's taller than I expected, broader. His Alpha presence rolls out like a challenge.
"I don't know what you think you're doing here," Kai says quietly. "But Ezra asked you to leave. So leave."
"This doesn't concern you."
"Everything about Ezra and those kids concerns me. I'm their family."
The words are like a knife to the gut. "You're not their father."
"Neither are you."
We're seconds from violence—I can feel my wolf rising, ready to fight. But then Ezra steps between us, and the exhaustion on his face breaks my heart.
"Stop. Both of you. Just stop." He looks at me, and there's nothing but sadness in his eyes. "Asher, please. Walk away. You've already ruined my life once. Don't make me watch you do it again."
"I'm not trying to ruin anything. I'm trying to fix—"
"You can't fix this!" The words burst out of him. "You can't fix five years of pain with coffee and apologies! You can't fix the nights I cried myself to sleep, or the labor I went through alone, or the terror I felt every day wondering if you'd show up and take them from me!"
"I would never—"
"YOU ALREADY DID!" His voice cracks. "You took everything from me five years ago. My dignity, my trust, my heart. I won't let you take my children too."
The lobby has gone completely silent. Everyone is staring.
And that's when I see it—on Ezra's left hand, barely visible under his sleeve.
A scar. Long and jagged, running up his wrist.
My blood runs cold. "Ezra, what happened to your arm?"
He immediately pulls his sleeve down, but it's too late. I saw it.
"Nothing. Old injury."
"That's not an old injury. That's—" My mind races through the medical files Marcus showed me. Severe complications... emergency surgery... "That's from the C-section. They had to cut your wrist to access a vein, didn't they? When you were bleeding out."
Ezra's face goes pale.
Kai's expression turns to horror. "You never told me it was that bad."
"It wasn't—I'm fine—"
But he's not fine. I can see it now—the way he holds that arm carefully, the slight tremor in his hand. That scar is a permanent reminder of the day he almost died bringing my children into the world.
All because I wasn't there.
"Ezra," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known—"
"But you DIDN'T know. And that's the point." He turns away, and Kai immediately puts a protective hand on his back. "Come on. We're leaving."
They walk toward the elevator, and I'm left standing in the lobby holding two cups of coffee that have gone cold.
I watch them go, watch Kai whisper something that makes Ezra lean into him, watch the intimacy between them that I'll never have again.
And I realize: sending those lawyer texts was the worst mistake I could have made.
Because now Ezra doesn't just hate me.
He's terrified of me.