Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 227

LUCIEN’S POV

“Andrea?” I whispered as I leaned forward, chair scraping against the stone. “Hey, buddy-please tell me what’s wrong?”

Adele was already half out of her seat, face soft with worry. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

His breath came in broken little gasps. Chocolate and tears smeared across his cheeks.

Adele slid her chair closer, voice gentle as moonlight.”

Hey honey…tell me what’s wrong.”

Andrea wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing more mess across his face. That’s when I saw it.

A flash of red.

Just below the cuff of his shirt sleeve-faint but unmistakable. Finger-shaped marks. Bruises. Fresh enough that the edges were still purple.

My blood turned to ice.

I reached for his hand instinctively, slow, careful. “Andrea, let me see-

“No!” He jerked away so fast the chair wobbled. “No, no, no

-“The panic in his voice hit me like a physical blow.

Before either of us could react, he scrambled down from the chair, feet slapping against the stone path, and ran.

“Andrea!” I shouted, already on my feet.

“Andrea, wait!” Adele called, right behind me.

We both bolted after him.

He was fast for such a small thing-dodging between flower beds, ducking under low-hanging branches. My heart slammed against my ribs, fear clawing up my throat. Where was he going? Why was he running from us?

He veered toward the stone bench near the rose trellis-the one half-hidden by climbing vines-and disappeared behind it.

We slowed as we approached, breathing hard.

I could hear him-tiny, shuddering breaths, like he was trying not to cry anymore but couldn’t stop.

Adele and I exchanged one quick, wide-eyed look.

Confusion. Fear. Helplessness.

We crouched down together, keeping our distance, voices low.

“Andrea,” I said softly, “we’re not mad. We’re not going to hurt you. Promise.”Adele’s voice trembled just a little. “We won’t ask you anything you don’t want to tell us. Nobody’s going to touch you if you don’t want. Okay?”

Silence.

Just his shaky breathing.

We waited.

Minutes felt like hours.

Finally, the vines rustled.

Asmall dark head appeared, then his whole body.

He looked at us-really looked-and something in his eyes broke me.

Pure, raw terror.

The same terror I used to see in the mirror when I was his age.

When my father’s footsteps echoed down the hall.

When I knew the shouting was coming.

When I curled up in the corner of my room and prayed he wouldn’t find me.

My throat closed.

Andrea took one hesitant step.Then another.

Then he ran-straight to me.

I caught him mid-leap, lifting him high against my chest.

Naomi, who’d carried him for nine months, who’d raised him alone-

Could she have done this?

Could she have hurt him?

The thought was so ugly, so wrong, that my stomach heaved.

But the bruises didn’t lie.

The way he’d shrunk when she looked at him didn’t lie.

The terror in his eyes when he thought we might touchhim didn’t lie.

And the way he was clinging to me now-like I was the only safe place in the world-

That didn’t lie either.

I tightened my arms around him, careful, gentle, protective.

– My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.

If Naomi had laid even one finger on him in anger…

If she’d ever made him feel small, scared, unwanted…

I would tear the world apart to make sure she never touched him again.

Adele reached out slowly, not to Andrea, but to me-her fingers brushing my arm, steady, grounding.

Our eyes locked again.

No words.

Just shared, silent horror.

And the same question burning between us.

What had Naomi done to our son?