TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 293

CHAPTER 222: DEVIKA’S SECRET

EMBER’S POV

He blinks. The word hits him harder than I expected, or maybe harder than I intended, because something in his expression collapses and rebuilds in the space of a breath.

I didn’t plan to call him Dad. It just came out. The muscle memory of this porch, this house, this man standing in this exact spot where he used to wait for me after school on the days he remembered to be there.

“Can we come in?” I ask. “This isn’t a social visit.”

He nods quickly, wiping his hands again even though they’re already clean, and holds the screen door open for us with such careful courtesy.

The house is small enough that the front door puts you in the living room, and the living room bleeds into the kitchen without much of a boundary between them.

It’s cleaner than I expected.

He’s been keeping house in a way he never managed when I was growing up, and the effort of it is visible

in the scrubbed counters, the single plate and single cup on the drying rack, the organised spice rack that I

would bet money was purchased in the last year.

The loneliness of the room is so complete it has its own texture. One chair. One plate. One life, reduced to

its minimum viable components.

Maurice hovers by the kettle, then turns back to us with a nervous smile that doesn’t quite land.

“So, uh. To what do I owe the surprise?” His voice is reaching for casual and falling short by a mile. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back here. After…” He trails off.

His eyes dim and the unfinished sentence hangs between us, Reavy with every version of how that

sentence could end.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the displeasure of coming back here either,” I say. “But life has been full of

surprises recently.”

His expression falters. He opens his mouth, and I can see the word forming – Birdie – when Queenie steps forward with a warmth so bright it almost startles me.

“Hi, Mr. Aragon!” She extends her hand with the specific enthusiasm of a woman who has decided to make this less painful for everyone through sheer force of friendliness. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Queenie. Ember’s friend.”

Maurice blinks. He looks at Queenie like he’s just noticed she exists, which, knowing how tunnel–visioned he gets around me, is entirely possible. He clears his throat and takes her hand.

“Maurice. Please, just Maurice.” His eyes dart back to me, then to Queenie, then to me again, trying to read the room and failing. “Can I, uh – tea? I’ve got the mint kind. The one Ember used to-” He catches himself. “I keep it stocked.”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Queenie says, and settles herself at the table like she’s been here a hundred times. Then, while Maurice fumbles with the kettle: “Maurice, do you happen to know where Mrs. Aragon is currently?”

Maurice’s back stiffens at the counter.

“Devika Chamberlain.” He corrects with a sneer. “We’ve not been on each other’s radar for a hot minute. Devika goes where the wind goes. She could be on Mars for all I know.” A pause. Then, quieter and more bitter than he probably intended: “Possibly sleeping with half its alien population too.”

Queenie coughs.

Maurice winces. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that.” He turns around with three mugs and sets them down with care. “Why are you asking?”

Queenie opens her mouth to answer, but I get there first.

“I know I’m not yours.”

The sentence drops into the kitchen and the ripples reach Maurice’s face before he can arrange a

response.

“Who told you that?” His voice goes sharp, his body straightening with a panic that tells me everything his words are trying to deny. “Who – did your mother call? Did she-”

“Nobody told me. I figured it out.” I hold his gaze and don’t blink. “How long have you known?”

The sharpness drains out of him. He doesn’t scramble or deflect or reach for a lie the way my mother would have. He just sags, and the relief on his face is almost as devastating as the shame.

“Since you were about three.” He stares into his tea. “For the first three years, I had no reason to question it. The timing worked. Devika and I had been together long enough that the math added up. I was there when you were born, Ember. I held you in the hospital and counted your fingers and called you Birdie and that was the happiest day of my life. I need you to know that. Whatever came after, that day was real.”

“What came after?” My voice is steady but the steadiness is costing me everything I have.

I can feel the anger building behind my ribs, pressing outward, and I take a slow breath because I have had enough mental breakdowns this week to last a lifetime and I refuse to have another one at this kitchen

table.

“Your mother and I were both catastrophically wrong about each other.” A bitter smile crosses his mouth. “ She saw me driving expensive cars and assumed I owned them. I was a valet, Ember. A nobody in a borrowed suit, ferrying wealthy alphas from meeting to meeting. And I looked at her and saw this beautiful, magnetic woman who chose ME out of everyone, and I assumed she was everything she

presented.” He turns the mug in his hands. “By the time she figured out I was the driver and not the owner, she was too settled to start over. And by the time I figured out she wasn’t the angel I thought she was, you were already three. Already calling me Daddy. Already mine in every way that mattered.”

“So what happened?”

“We had a fight. A bad one. I’d lost my position at the estate I was driving for and I came home with nothing and Devika was furious because the money was drying up and she’d married down and she knew it. And somewhere in the middle of the screaming she said it.” He swallows. “She said you weren’t mine. That your real father was someone she’d been with before me. Someone important. Someone she could never have. She got pregnant, thought she could trap him the way she thought she could trap me, and when it fell apart she ran. Back to Alaska. Back to the middle of nowhere with another man’s baby and a story she made fit.”

“Did she say who?”

Comments

LUCK DRAW