Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 194 Jan 18, 2026 POV: Thalia I gasp and jerk backward so violently my chair scrapes across the tent floor with a sound that's half screech, half death rattle. My hands fly off the crystal ball like it just morphed into a live grenade-which, considering what it just did to my psyche, isn't entirely inaccurate. The tent slams back into focus around me with the subtlety of a flashbang in a closet.

Incense smoke that's too thick, candles that flicker with theatrical precision, the fortune teller watching me with eyes that know exactly what happened because she orchestrated the entire psychological demolition. My heart is trying to escape through my ribcage. Breath coming too fast, too shallow, the kind of hyperventilation that precedes either fainting or vomiting and I'm not sure which would be preferable right now. I lived years in that vision. Not watched them-lived them.

Felt every moment of choosing Lysander, every agonizing second of fighting the mate bond, every instance of watching myself nearly die from denying what my cells were screaming. The phantom sensation of resistance lives in my bones, in my muscles, in the spaces between my thoughts where certainty used to exist. My hands shake so badly I have to press them to my face just to confirm I still have a face, that this is real, that I'm actually here instead of still trapped in that alternate timeline watching myself destroy everything through resistance disguised as autonomy.

"You saw the other path." The fortune teller's voice cuts through my spiral. Not a question. Statement of fact delivered with the kind of gentle certainty that makes you realize she's done this before, probably regularly, definitely to people who ended up exactly this fucked up afterward. I nod because speaking requires vocal cord function I don't currently possess. My throat feels like I swallowed a handful of glass shards mixed with regret. She leans forward, candlelight making her face look ancient and ageless simultaneously.

"The vision showed a true possibility-the life you would have lived if you'd chosen differently. Every moment was real in its own way, a parallel timeline that could have existed if your eyes had landed on Lysander instead of Kieran that day in the office." "But it's-" My voice comes out wrecked, barely functional. "Everything was wrong. The events were incorrect, distorted. Things got mixed up, the timeline doesn't-it's not how it would have actually happened." The fortune teller's smile is sad and knowing, like she's heard this exact protest before.

"We can't know for sure how everything would have turned out. The vision shows one possible path, not the only path. Reality branches in infinite directions at every choice point." She pauses, lets that settle into my spinning mind. "But the main thing is-you saw it. You felt what fighting destiny costs. That's what matters." I finally find enough voice to whisper, "Destiny wins. Fighting it only causes pain." "Destiny wins, yes." Her head tilts slightly, candlelight catching in her dark eyes.

"But also-the mate bond gave you Kieran not to trap you, but because you're meant to complete each other. Your choice aligned with destiny, and that's why your path has been smoother." I fumble in my purse with hands that won't cooperate, desperate to pay her and escape. Need to leave, need to find my actual family in my actual timeline where I made the right choice and didn't put everyone through years of agonizing resistance. "No payment." The fortune teller's hand covers mine, stopping my frantic searching. "The vision was gift, not transaction. Trust your choices.

They were right." "Thalia?" Coraline's voice cuts through the tent's atmosphere like a blade through smoke. "Are you okay? You were staring at that ball for like five minutes completely frozen. I was about to shake you." Five minutes. I lived years-experienced decades of alternate timeline, felt every moment of resistance and surrender and grief-and only five minutes passed in real time. The disconnect makes my stomach lurch violently. I stand on legs that feel disconnected from conscious control.

Actually shake like I'm hypothermic despite the tent being approximately surface-of-the-sun temperature. My voice comes out cracked when I manage to speak: "Thank you." The fortune teller just nods, knowing and ancient, and I stumble toward the tent flap like escaping a burning building. The afternoon light hits me with offensive brightness after the tent's dimness. The fair explodes back into existence around me-screaming kids, carnival music, that specific smell of fried everything mixed with optimism and poor life choices.

Normal life continuing while I just lived an entire alternate existence in five minutes. "What did you see?" Coraline asks, real concern bleeding into her voice now. She's gripping my elbow like she thinks I might collapse, which is fair because I absolutely might collapse. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Multiple ghosts. An entire ghost convention." "I can't-" The words won't form properly. How do you explain living years in minutes? Watching yourself nearly die fighting biology? Feeling every moment of agonizing resistance that destroyed everyone you love? "It was intense.

Really intense. I need to find Kieran and the kids. Right now." "Okay." She doesn't push, bless her, just shifts into logistics mode. "They're supposed to be at the rides. Come on." She guides me through the fair crowds and I move on autopilot, my mind still spinning with images from the alternate path that feels more real than the pavement under my feet. Lysander's gentle hands braiding Luna's hair. Phoenix in the hospital with broken ribs she caused. The alternate Thalia nearly dying from mate bond resistance, body staging full rebellion against denying destiny.

Kieran's devastation watching me choose his brother. The pack fracturing along family lines, brothers at war, everything burning. All of it was real in a way that makes my skin prickle with phantom sensation. I can still feel Lysander's touch, still taste the grief of fighting what my cells demanded, still carry the weight of resistance that nearly killed everyone I love. The images won't stop. They overlay themselves on the fair around me-alternate timeline bleeding through reality like double exposure.

Every step toward the rides where my actual family waits feels like walking between worlds, one foot in the life I chose and one in the life I almost destroyed everyone trying to have. Coraline keeps talking-something about the weather, about how Phoenix will probably want cotton candy, normal words that sound like they're coming from another dimension. I nod when it seems appropriate but I'm not really here. Still half-trapped in that vision, in those years of fighting and losing and watching everyone pay the price for my resistance. My hands won't stop shaking.

The phantom sensation of nearly dying from mate bond resistance lives under my skin like electrical current, reminding me with every breath what I could have chosen. What fighting destiny costs when you're stubborn enough to try it anyway. We navigate through crowds that part and close like water, past game booths promising prizes nobody needs, past the smell of funnel cakes and the sound of children shrieking on rides. Each step takes me closer to my real family, my real timeline, the life I built by choosing correctly the first time even if I didn't understand why.

But the alternate path clings to me like smoke. Lysander's diminished life in Colorado. The children confused by adult chaos. Kieran shattered. The pack nearly destroyed. All of it real. All of it possible. All of it what would have happened if my eyes had landed differently that day in the office when both brothers stood before me. "Almost there," Coraline says, still gripping my elbow like I'm a flight risk. "You sure you're okay? You're really pale." "Yeah." The lie tastes like ash.

"Just need to see them." We round another corner and the rides come into view-Ferris wheel spinning against blue sky, screams from the roller coaster, the organized chaos of a county fair in full swing. Somewhere in that crowd are Kieran and the kids, my real family, the life I chose correctly. And all I can think about is the alternate timeline where I didn't choose correctly. Where I fought for years and nearly destroyed everyone trying to prove autonomy mattered more than destiny. The vision was right. The fortune teller was right. Destiny wins. Fighting it only causes catastrophic pain.

And I chose right the first time without even knowing why. admin