Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 181 Jan 15, 2026 POV: Thalia The vision shifts and suddenly I'm following Lysander to Colorado, watching him build a life in the wreckage of what he lost. His new office is sleek glass and steel overlooking downtown Denver, and he haunts it like a beautifully dressed ghost. Eighteen-hour days become his baseline. Every case that crosses his desk gets accepted regardless of sleep deprivation or basic human limitations.

Work becomes the drug that keeps him from thinking about Seattle, about three kids calling someone else Dad, about the woman who chose him until biology decided otherwise. His apartment is aggressively minimal. Furniture that came with the place, no photos on the walls, nothing that requires emotional investment. He crashes there at midnight, wakes at five, and escapes back to work before the emptiness can suffocate him. I watch him date with the enthusiasm of someone checking boxes on a mandatory form.

Human women mostly-safe because they can't be mate bonds, can't trigger that biological recognition that destroyed everything. They last two weeks, maybe three if they're particularly understanding about his work schedule. None of them get past surface-level connection. He's charming at dinners, attentive during sex, completely unavailable emotionally. They sense it eventually and leave, and he doesn't chase because chasing requires caring and caring means risking this kind of devastation again. But late at night, after everyone else goes home, I watch him pull up videos on his phone.

The triplets at the park from two months ago. Phoenix showing off her climbing skills. Orion explaining something with Kieran's serious face. Luna reading to both her brothers, patient beyond her years. Photos scroll past. Thalia laughing at something off-camera. The five of them at the grocery store that Saturday morning that feels like a lifetime ago. His thumb hovers over her face in the image, not quite touching the screen. Then he pours whiskey and drinks alone in his pristine office while Denver lights blur through tears he won't let fall. Wednesday nights he video calls the kids.

Sets an alarm, blocks the time, shows up with a cheerful mask that would win Oscars. "Hey firecracker! Did you break any more training dummies this week?" Phoenix shrieks about her progress. Orion shows him some physics project. Luna talks about a book she's reading. They're comfortable with him, love him still, but I see the distance growing. He's Uncle Lysander who lives far away, not the man who used to make breakfast and braid hair and exist in their daily chaos. He never asks about Kieran. Doesn't mention their mother except in vague encouragement about school and friends.

Keeps everything surface-level safe because digging deeper means acknowledging what he lost. After six months of this self-destructive routine, he meets Coraline. She's a Beta wolf from the local pack, brought in to consult on a territorial dispute case. Mid-thirties, warm brown eyes, the kind of steady presence that makes chaotic people feel grounded. They bond over shared pain-she's recently divorced, husband left her for his true mate after ten years of marriage. "Biology is a bitch," she says over coffee after their third meeting.

"You think you're building something real, then destiny shows up and burns it all down." Lysander's laugh comes out bitter. "I'm familiar with that particular tragedy." They start something careful. Dinner dates that don't require emotional excavation. Movies where they can exist side by side without pressure. Sex that's good without being earth-shattering, comfort without consuming fire. It's not a mate bond. Both of them know it, acknowledge it with the kind of honesty that comes from being burned badly. But it's something. Companionship. Gentle affection.

The possibility of a different kind of happiness built on choice instead of biological imperative. I watch Lysander let himself hope again. Not for world-burning devotion-he's done with that particular fantasy. Just for someone who shows up consistently, who doesn't expect him to be anything other than himself, who understands that love can be built instead of struck by lightning. Eight months in, Coraline moves into his apartment and suddenly it's not a crash pad anymore. Photos appear on walls. Furniture gets replaced with pieces they choose together.

The kitchen smells like someone actually cooks instead of just reheats takeout at midnight. They talk about futures with the kind of pragmatic planning that comes from rebuilding after destruction. Kids eventually. Maybe marriage, though neither of them is in a rush after their respective catastrophes. Just building something steady, brick by brick, foundation that won't crumble when biology decides to fuck with someone's life. A year after leaving Seattle, Coraline hands him a positive pregnancy test over breakfast.

I watch his face cycle through shock to joy to terror to determination in under five seconds. "We're having a baby." "We're having a baby," she confirms. Her smile carries hope and fear in equal measure. "You okay with this?" "Yeah." He pulls her close, presses his forehead to hers. "Yeah, I'm really okay with this." That afternoon he calls the kids. Sets up the video chat with Coraline beside him, her hand in his, visible proof that he's moved on. Phoenix appears on screen first, climbing over her brothers to get camera access. "Lysander! We got to see actual wolves at the sanctuary!

Not pack wolves, real wild ones!" "That's amazing, firecracker." His voice stays steady, cheerful mask perfectly in place. "Hey, I have news to share. You remember Coraline?" The kids chorus recognition. They've met her during video calls, know she's Uncle Lysander's girlfriend. "Well, Coraline's pregnant. You're going to have a cousin." The kids shriek with excitement. Phoenix demands to know if it's a boy or girl. Orion asks about due dates and prenatal development. Luna just smiles that knowing smile and says "You'll be a good dad." The words hit him visibly.

He recovers fast but I catch it-the flinch, the grief, the reminder that he was supposed to be Dad to these three instead of uncle to them and father to someone else's child. Then Thalia appears on screen, taking the phone from the kids. "Lysander. Congratulations." Her smile is genuine. I can see she means it. But underneath there's something else. Something complicated that looks suspiciously like betrayal. "Thanks, Thalia." Lysander's voice goes careful. "Coraline and I are really happy." "You should be. You deserve this." The words are right but her eyes are wrong.

"The kids will love having a cousin." They make appropriate small talk. When to visit. Whether they'll find out the sex. Names they're considering. All the surface-level safe topics that avoid the minefield underneath. After they disconnect, I watch her sit on her couch staring at the blank phone screen. Kieran appears from the kitchen, having given her privacy for the call. "Lysander's having a baby," she says flatly. "I heard." Kieran sits beside her, not touching but present. "You okay?" "I'm happy for him. I am." She sets down the phone with mechanical precision. "He deserves to move on.

Build a life. Find happiness after everything." "But?" "But he's not supposed to move on this successfully." The admission comes out raw. "I lost him but he's fine. He's better than fine. He's thriving without us." The selfishness in her words hits her visibly. She closes her eyes, jaw clenching. "God, I'm a terrible person. He should move on. I'm the one who chose you. I'm the one who-" She can't finish. Just sits there hating herself for resenting his happiness while tied to Kieran through biology that overrode every choice she tried to make.

I watch Kieran watch her and see him understanding everything she's not saying. That she still mourns what could have been with Lysander. That the mate bond forced her into this life. That watching Lysander build something freely chosen with someone else highlights everything she lost. "You're not terrible," Kieran says quietly. "You're human. Complicated. Allowed to have messy feelings about your ex moving on even when you genuinely want him to be happy." "I wanted to choose." Her voice breaks. "That's what I keep coming back to. You were chosen for me. He chose Coraline freely.

And that difference matters even though it shouldn't." Kieran doesn't respond. Just pulls her against his chest and lets her cry for the choice she never got to make. Meanwhile in Colorado, Lysander lies in bed with Coraline's head on his chest, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach. He's building something real. Something chosen. Something that might not burn as bright as what he lost but won't incinerate everything when biology decides to intervene.

And I watch both timelines unfold-the life Lysander gets to choose, the life she was forced into-and wonder if either of them will ever stop mourning what could have been. admin