Hailee’s POV 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

I stared at him, completely stunned. For a moment, I didn’t even know whether to laugh or be offended.

"Your type of woman?" I repeated slowly. "You hardly know me, Rylan."

He chuckled softly. "I know enough. You’re strong, graceful, and honest to a fault. You don’t pretend to be anyone else, and I like that."

I took a deep breath and shook my head. "You shouldn’t."

That made him pause. His brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his expression. "Why not?"

"Because whatever you think you want from me, Rylan," I said calmly, "you’re looking in the wrong direction."

He tilted his head slightly. "You’re saying no?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "I’m saying no."

He blinked, clearly not used to hearing that word. "May I ask why?"

I sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. "Because I’m not a woman who can be courted. I have a life, a complicated one. Three sons, to be exact."

That made him stiffen slightly, though his gaze didn’t waver.

"Three?" he asked softly.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Three boys. Each one with a different father. And before you say anything, yes, I love them. They’re my world. So if you came here thinking I’m someone you can win over with pretty flowers and charming words, you’re wasting your time."

Rylan didn’t move. For a long moment, he just looked at me, no arrogance this time, no teasing smile, just quiet surprise.

Finally, he spoke, his voice lower. "You think that changes how I see you?"

"It should," I said, my tone steady but tired. "Because I’m not starting over, Rylan. I’ve had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime. I’m not interested in being anyone’s new beginning."

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t come here for an easy beginning, Hailee."

I held up a hand. "Stop. Whatever this is, don’t make it harder than it needs to be. You’re a king. You should be focusing on your pack, not on me."

For a second, he looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he just exhaled, giving a small, rueful smile. "You’re even more impossible than I thought."

I smirked faintly. "And you’re even more stubborn than I expected."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well," he said finally. "I’ll respect your answer, for now."

Before I could respond, he turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, that same calm smile tugging at his lips.

"But just so you know, Hailee," he said quietly, "I don’t give up easily."

And with that, he walked out, leaving me surrounded by flowers and silence.

For a long moment, I stood there, still trying to process what had just happened. The scent of roses and lilies clung thickly to the air, sweet and suffocating all at once. It felt strange to be standing there in a palace filled with color and life, and still feel so tired.

A maid came in, nervous and uncertain. "Should we move the flowers, my lady?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. Please take them out. All of them."

Her eyes widened slightly. "All, my lady?"

"All," I repeated firmly. "Give them to the staff. Or to the gardens. Just not here."

She bowed quickly. "Yes, Your Highness."

As she hurried to gather the bouquets, I turned toward the large window. The morning sun had risen fully now, spilling light across the floor. It warmed my skin, but it couldn’t chase away the heaviness pressing on my chest.

Rylan’s words echoed in my head: I don’t give up easily.

He said it like a promise.

But to me, it sounded like a warning.

I wasn’t ready for another storm. Not again.

I rubbed my temple lightly, forcing the thought away and deciding to focus on what mattered. The boys.

I decided to distract myself with the only thing that still made sense, my boys.

They were the one thing that reminded me who I was beyond all the titles, the chaos, and the endless storms of the past.

When I reached their room, the door was already half open. I could hear them before I even stepped inside. Their voices were raised, sharp, full of anger.

"Stop saying that!" Ozzy shouted, his voice cracking in frustration.

"I’m not lying," Oscar snapped back. "It’s true! My dad could beat yours any day!"

"You wish!" Oliver shot back. "Your dad couldn’t even protect Mom when she was banished!"

My heart dropped.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen in the doorway. The sound of their words hit harder than any slap ever could.

Ozzy was standing on his bed, fists clenched tightly, his red hair sticking up like a small flame. Oliver stood near the window, his jaw tight, while Oscar sat cross-legged on the rug, glaring at them both.

"Stop it," I said quietly, stepping into the room.

None of them noticed at first.

"Ozzy’s dad is a brute," Oscar muttered. "He’s always angry. Everyone says so."

Ozzy’s eyes filled with anger. "Don’t talk about my dad like that! Your dad has anger issues, and he can’t control it."

Oliver scoffed. "Your dad is just a weakling."

"Take that back!" Ozzy demanded.

"Make me!" Oscar challenged.

By the time I reached the middle of the room, they were on their feet, three small storms spinning in the same space, throwing words sharper than blades.

"ENOUGH!"

My voice cracked through the air like thunder.

The room went dead silent.

All three of them froze. Their faces were flushed, eyes wide. Ozzy’s lower lip trembled, Oliver looked guilty, and Oscar’s stubborn jaw began to soften.

I took a slow breath, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself. "What is going on here?"

Oliver looked away. "He started it," he mumbled.

"I did not!" Ozzy spat. "He called my dad angry and—"

"I don’t care who started it!" I cut in sharply. "I want to know why any of you think it’s okay to talk about each other’s fathers that way."

They stayed quiet.

"Do you think it makes you stronger?" I continued. "Hurting each other like this?"

Oscar kicked at the rug. "They were saying Alpha Nathan won’t make a good father."

I sighed, kneeling down so I was eye level with them. "And do you think yelling about it makes him one?"

He looked down, ashamed.

I turned to Oliver. "And you," I said softly. "Do you really believe saying things about him makes you better?"

Oliver’s lips pressed together. "I didn’t mean to," he whispered.

"And Ozzy," I said gently, touching his hand. "Defending someone you love doesn’t mean you have to fight."

He sniffed, wiping his tears with his sleeve. "But they said mean things, Mom."

"I know," I said, my voice softening. "And that hurts. But when you fight back with anger, you just give them more power to hurt you again."

The room fell quiet again. The only sound was their small breaths and the faint flutter of the curtains from the open window.

I sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. "Listen to me, all three of you," I said quietly. "Your fathers, they’re all different men. Mistakes were made. But none of that was their fault. I hurt those men."

They went quiet again, the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but thoughtful.

"You three are my heart," I said softly. "Pieces of it, made from different stories. And I’ll never let those stories turn you against each other."

Ozzy crawled closer, resting his head on my lap. "Are you mad at us?"

"No," I whispered, brushing my fingers through his hair. "Just sad. Because I know you’re all better than this."

Oliver moved next, sitting beside me. "Sorry, Mom."

Oscar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Me too."

I smiled faintly, pulling them closer into my arms. "You’re brothers. That means when the world tries to tear you apart, you hold on tighter. You don’t let go just because things get hard."

Ozzy looked up at me. "Even if we have different dads?"

"Especially then," I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Because no matter what, you three are brothers, triplets."

They wrapped their arms around me then, small and warm and trembling. For a while, we just stayed like that, the three of them pressed close, their breathing slowing until the tension melted away.

When they finally pulled back, I smiled. "Now," I said softly, "how about we go outside? Fresh air might help you remember you actually like each other."

They laughed, hesitant at first, then genuine.

Oscar grinned. "Last one to the garden has to clean Ozzy’s mess!"

Ozzy gasped. "Hey!"

Before I could even reply, they bolted for the door, their laughter echoing down the hall.

I sat there for a moment longer, smiling through the ache in my chest.

They were growing fast, too fast. And though the scars of my past still lingered in them, I could only hope that love would heal what time alone could not.