Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 239

094 Confusion

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94. Confusion

LUCIEN’S POV

Andrea’s small hand felt warm and trusting in mine as we walked down the winding stone path toward the palace gardens.

I’d lifted him up after a few steps because his little legs couldn’t keep up with mine, and now he was perched on my hip, one arm looped around my neck, the other pointing at things like he’d never seen the palace grounds before. Every few seconds he’d gasp at a flower or a bird, his voice high and excited. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

But underneath the sweetness, tension sat heavy in my chest like a rock.

Every time he giggled, every time he said “Daddy” in that soft, wondering way, something inside me cracked open a little wider.

This was my son. My blood. The weight of it still felt too big, too real, like I was holding something fragile I didn’t know how to protect yet. And then there was Adele waiting for us at the garden table.

I kept replaying Andrea’s words in my head.

“The one with the very long hair like the sun… She told me that Daddy will never want me.’

The sentence looped, over and over, stabbing deeper each time.

There was no way. No fucking way Adele would say that to a child. Not my Adele. Not the woman who’d held me while I cried, who’d fought Naomi like a lioness, who’d whispered “I’ll accept him” with that fierce, possessive light in her eyes.

Naomi had to have planted it. Coached him. Forced the words into his mouth to drive a wedge between us. That had to be it.

We were only a few feet from the garden entrance when Andrea suddenly pointed ahead, his finger trembling just a little.

“That’s her,” he whispered.

I followed the direction of his small hand.

Adele stood near the long wooden table under the flowering trellis. She wore a simple cream dress that fluttered gently in the breeze, and the smile on her face when she saw us was warm, open, real.

My stomach twisted.

She lifted her hand in a small wave. “There you are,” she called softly, her voice carrying over the grass.

Andrea’s body went stiff against me. His arm tightened around my neck, and when I glanced down, his eyes were wide, fixed on her. Fear flickered there again-small, but unmistakable.

I slowed my steps, confusion knotting tighter in my chest.

“She said that?” I asked quietly, turning my head so only he could hear. “She told you I wouldn’t want you?”

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094 Confusion

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Something flashed in his eyes-something I couldn’t name. Guilt? Fear? Confusion? He bit his lip hard, then gave one tiny nod. “Yes.”

The word landed like a stone in still water.

I couldn’t breathe right.

There was no way. Adele wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t hurt a child-especially not mine. She’d been ready to raise him, ready to sit down to dinner like a family. She’d said it herself.

Naomi. It had to be Naomi. Filling his head with poison. Using her own son as a weapon.

I forced my legs to move again, closing the distance.

Adele’s smile didn’t falter as we approached. If anything, it grew softer when she looked at Andrea.

“Hi, Andrea,” she said gently, crouching a little so she was closer to his level. “I’m Adele.”

Andrea stared at the ground, lips pressed together. A guilty flush crept up his cheeks. He didn’t say anything- just burrowed his face deeper into my shoulder.

I felt Adele’s eyes flick to mine, questioning, but she didn’t push. She just straightened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and gestured toward the table.

“Come on,” she said lightly. “Everything’s ready.”

The table was set simply but beautifully-white plates, roasted chicken, bowls of bright vegetables, pitchers of juice and the scent of jasmine hung heavy in the warm air.

I set Andrea down in the chair between us. He sat stiffly, hands in his lap, eyes darting between me and Adele like he was waiting for something bad to happen.

The first few minutes were tense. Painfully tense.

I tried to keep the conversation going-asking Andrea about his favorite toys, what kind of food he liked-but his answers were short, quiet. Adele matched my efforts, her voice soft and patient, asking gentle questions without pressing too hard.

Slowly, though, the stiffness started to melt.

Adele told him a silly story about the time she tried to climb a tree when she was little and got stuck. Andrea’s lips twitched. Then he giggled-just a tiny sound, but it hit me straight in the chest.

I felt the knot in my lungs loosen a fraction.

Adele noticed too. Her eyes met mine over his head, and for a second, the warmth in them felt real.

When dessert came-rich chocolate cake with glossy icing-Adele scooped a small dollop onto her finger and, with a mischievous grin, dabbed it right on the tip of Andrea’s nose.

He froze.

Then he laughed-loud, bright, surprised. The sound rolled through the garden.

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094 Confusion

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I couldn’t help it-I laughed too. Deep, real laughter that loosened something else inside me.

Andrea wiped at his nose, smearing chocolate across his cheek, and Adele pretended to be horrified, gasping dramatically.

“Look at you! You’re a chocolate monster now!”

He giggled harder, reaching for more icing.

In that moment, watching them-my mate and my son laughing together under the golden light-the fear receded. My chest felt lighter than it had in days.

This could work.

This could really work.

I swore to myself right then: whatever life my father couldn’t give me because of his bitterness, his guilt, his cruelty-I would give it to my kids. All of them. Love. Safety. Laughter. No shadows hanging over them. No blame. No fear.

I reached over and ruffled Andrea’s hair. “You’re making a mess, little man.”

He beamed up at me, chocolate smeared across his mouth. “It’s yummy, Daddy.”

Daddy.

The word still punched me every time.

Adele’s eyes shone when she looked at me. Soft. Proud. Like she saw it too-this fragile, beautiful beginning.

And then Andrea’s smile vanished.

His spoon clattered against the plate.

His little shoulders started shaking.

Tears welled up fast, spilling over before I could even process what was happening.

“Andrea?” I said, alarm spiking through me.

Adele leaned forward, voice gentle but worried. “Hey, sweetheart-are you okay?”

He shook his head, then nodded, like he couldn’t decide. His breath hitched in tiny, broken sobs.

I reached for him, but he flinched-just a little, but enough to stop my hand mid-air.

Adele and I exchanged a quick, confused glance.

“What is it?” she asked softly, sliding her chair closer. “You can tell us.”

Andrea hiccupped, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing chocolate and tears together.

“My mummy said…” His voice cracked, small and trembling. “My mummy said…”

The words hung there, unfinished.

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094 Confusion

The garden suddenly felt too quiet.

Too still.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Adele’s hand froze on the table.

We both stared at him, waiting.

The tension rushed back in, thicker and darker than before.

What had Naomi told him?

What was he about to say?

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