Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 36 Dec 18, 2025 POV: Thalia The kids come back from Lysander's Sunday evening, full of planetarium facts and pizza grease. Phoenix talks nonstop about dark matter. Luna shows me her new stuffed animal-Lysander bought it, obviously. Orion's already uploaded seventeen photos from the trip to his tablet. They're happy. Safe. Completely unaware that their mother spent the morning getting politically kneecapped while their father stood there like a decorative plant.

I tuck them in with kisses and stories and the kind of maternal bullshit that looks peaceful from the outside while I'm internally screaming. By the time their breathing evens out, my jaw hurts from clenching. Kieran's in our bedroom when I walk in. Still wearing his suit from this morning's disaster, tie loosened but not removed. He's not looking at the window doing his brooding billionaire routine. He's looking at me. And he's pissed. "We need to talk." His voice is controlled in that way that means he's about three seconds from losing his shit. "Yeah.

We do." I close the door harder than necessary. "You want to explain why you stood there silent while your father and Halverson made me look hysterical?" "Hysterical?" His laugh is sharp, humorless. "You walked into that meeting with a fully drafted proposal without discussing any of it with me first." I blink. "Are you serious right now?" "Completely." He pulls the tie free with controlled violence. "We're supposed to be partners. Luna and Alpha. Remember that conversation we had last night?" "The one where we agreed to fix this together?" My voice climbs. "Yeah, I remember.

I also remember you agreeing we'd handle it properly, strategically, absolutely terrifying together." "Which doesn't mean you get to blindside me with policy overhauls in front of the entire pack leadership." His jaw is tight enough to shatter. "I'm standing behind your chair looking like I support whatever you're proposing, but I don't know what the fuck you're about to say because you didn't tell me." "So what?" My hands clench. "I should've run my proposals by you first? Asked permission to protect our children?" "Asked to coordinate strategy, yes!" His voice rises to match mine.

"We're leading this pack together. That means actually working together. Not you going rogue because you're angry." "I'm not going rogue!" "You are exactly going rogue." He stops pacing, faces me fully. "And when I didn't immediately back every word-because I didn't know what you were going to say next-you took my silence as betrayal instead of considering I might be processing information you never shared with me." The accusation lands like a slap. "You think I needed to process?" My voice goes quiet, dangerous. "Our cubs are being called freaks. Being targeted for existing.

And you needed time to process whether that deserved immediate action?" "I needed to know what action you were proposing before I backed it publicly." His control is cracking, Alpha authority bleeding through. "That's not unreasonable. That's basic partnership." "Basic partnership?" I laugh and it sounds unhinged. "You want to talk about partnership? You stood there silent while your father dismissed everything I said and Halverson suggested our children just need thicker skin!" "Because you put me in an impossible position!" His voice drops to something lethal.

"Back proposals I didn't know about and look like we coordinated this ambush, or stay silent and look like I don't support you. Both options were shit because you didn't give me a third option by actually talking to me first. I was just trying to fix it." I manage." "By yourself." He steps closer, eyes hard. "And making unilateral decisions about pack policy without your co-leader. That's proving every elder right who thinks you're too emotional to lead effectively." The words hit exactly where he aimed them. "Because I lived it!" The confession tears out.

"I know what they're experiencing right now. Every hallway. Every whisper. Every time someone makes you feel like you're taking up space you don't deserve." Kieran goes still. That particular stillness that means I've hit something he doesn't want to examine. "Do you know what it was like for me?" My voice shakes now. "For two years? Being the target while everyone-including you-either participated or pretended not to notice?" "Thalia-" "My sister made destroying me into a hobby," I continue, words spilling out faster than I can stop them. "Made sure everyone knew I was worthless. Wolfless.

Defective. And you-" The memory crashes through without permission. Fourteen years old, pressed against lockers while voices surrounded me like wolves circling prey. My journal in Lia's hands, her voice carrying across the cafeteria reading my terrible poetry about Kieran. Do you really think an Alpha heir would want a defective wolfless freak? Everyone laughing. Everyone watching. Kieran at his usual table, looking away like I didn't exist. Lysander laughing with his friends to fit in, to maintain his carefully constructed popularity. Walking home that day feeling smaller than I'd ever felt.

Invisible and ess than nothing. "I remember every hallway," I say quietly. "Every whisper. Every pack gathering where wolves sneered at my wolflessness like it was contagious." My hands are shaking. "Every time you looked at me like I was dirt under your shoe because Lia convinced you I was obsessed and pathetic." "I know." His voice cracks. "And I've apologized. I've spent years trying to make up for-" "You will never understand." The words come out flat, absolute. "You can apologize. You can feel guilty. You can be the perfect mate now.

But you will never actually understand what I'm protecting our children from because you were on the other side of it." He flinches like I hit him. "That's not fair." "Fair?" I laugh bitterly. "You were the bully, Kieran. You were the one making people feel small while I went home every day wanting to disappear. So don't you dare tell me I'm being too emotional about protecting our cubs from experiencing what you helped put me through." The silence that follows is devastating.

I watch his face process what I said-the guilt, the defensive anger, the desperate need to argue combined with knowing I'm completely right. He can apologize for the rest of his life and it won't change the fundamental truth that he was the hunter while I was prey. The confession hangs between us. Raw. True. More honest than I meant to be. My chest aches. The mate bond hums with his sincerity, his frustration, his desperate need for this to work.

But underneath it all is that fundamental difference-he'll never know what it's like to be hunted by your own pack, have your existence questioned and feel wrong simply for breathing. Dec 25, 2025 The silence stretches like taffy in hell. They're both staring at me like I'm a Netflix documentary, and I'm standing here trying not to have a complete mental breakdown. "It's been a long time..." Understatement of the fucking century. But what else do you say to the two men who railed you into another dimension eight years ago and are now your bosses? Hey, remember when you both- Nope.

Absolutely not going there. But I can't afford to fall apart. Not in front of them, not after everything. I straighten my spine, step away from them pulling out my legal pad, and click my pen with deliberate precision. "I understand you have a case you need handled. Parameters?" They both blink at my aggressive pivot to professionalism. Like they expected me to what-collapse? Beg for their forgiveness? Run screaming into traffic? Been there, done that, have the single mom trauma to prove it. Kieran recovers first, his ice-king mask sliding back on.

"The Silverton acquisition." He takes a folder from his desk thick enough to use as a weapon. "Sixty million tech merger. Shareholders crying breach of fiduciary duty." His eyes are doing that thing where he's cataloging every change like I'm a spot-the-difference puzzle. "You'll be lead counsel. Reporting directly to us." Lead counsel on sixty million? Either they're testing me or setting me up for the most spectacular professional face-plant in Seattle legal history. This is purely human corporate law-the kind that pays obscenely well because rich humans love suing each other.

No pack politics, no supernatural complications. Just money and egos. I can work with that. "High stakes." Lysander's suddenly closer again, pretending to review papers while basically bathing me in his pheromones. "Think you can handle it?" I handled pushing three of your potential children out of my body in one go. So yeah, I think I can manage some paperwork. "I've handled bigger." Another lie. My biggest case was maybe two million, but they don't need to know that. I grab the folder and get out before my knees give up on the whole standing thing.

The first workday drags like torture and becomes an exercise in psychological warfare disguised as professional development. I can feel them cataloging every difference in me-the way I no longer drop my gaze when Lysander appears to "discuss the case," how my shoulders don't curl inward anymore just from Kieran's presence. The designer suit Rosalie helped me buy secondhand. The competence I wear instead of fear. The spine I grew somewhere between midnight feedings and law school finals. They remember my younger self. Broken and subservient, terrified of my own shadow. That girl is gone.

Around three, I catch a flash of something on Kieran's face when I cross my legs under the glass conference table. Something with the kind of intensity usually reserved for defusing bombs. Heat flashes across his face, pure hunger, and my traitorous body responds like it's been programmed. I hate myself for the way my pulse spikes. Down, girl. We do not get horny for men who spent two years making our existence miserable. That's not a kink we're exploring.

The meeting dragged on for another hour and I texted Rosalie under the table "Coming home late " while both brothers kept finding excuses to move closer to me. Kieran keeps finding excuses to stand behind my chair to point out jurisdictional issues while his body heat tries to melt my professional façade. His cedar scent floods my system like a drug I've been desperately avoiding. Close enough that I feel every breath, close enough that if I leaned back a fraction... Stop it. Lysander's methodology is different but equally devastating.

"Accidentally" grazing my fingers during document exchanges, each touch sending electricity shooting up my arm like I'm a malfunctioning power grid. To any observer, it's normal business interaction. To me, it's predators testing how close they can get before I snap. By the time I escape at seven, I'm shaking so hard my car keys sound like maracas. The drive home is forty minutes of deep breathing and reminding myself that mortgage payments require employment.

My apartment finally comes into view-warm lights against Seattle's perpetual drizzle, safety, sanctuary, the place where I'm Mom instead of whatever masochistic game today was. "MAMA!" The door barely opens before three tiny bodies launch themselves at my knees. Orion immediately starts his volcano presentation, complete with hand gestures and that serious expression. "Did you know that Mount Vesuvius erupted at approximately 1,520 degrees Celsius? That's hot enough to instantly vaporize human tissue!" "That's...

very informative, baby." Luna waves her spelling test like a victory flag, pride radiating from every pore. "I got the bonus words too! Even 'necessary' which everyone else missed!" And Phoenix just clings to my leg without words, her grip pure Alpha strength wrapped in seven-year-old desperation. Rosalie extracts me from the pile, herding them toward bedrooms. "Homework done, dinner consumed, only one minor incident," Rosalie reports, looking like she's survived several natural disasters. "Phoenix tried to make the remote levitate when Orion hogged the TV." Shit. "Success?" "Almost.

Ice cream saved the day." After bedtime stories and kisses-Orion negotiating for "just one more chapter," Luna asking if I'm sad about something, Phoenix finally releasing her death grip- I collapse on the couch. Rosalie already has wine poured, bless her. "So," she says carefully. "Want to tell me why you look like you've seen a ghost?" I take a long drink. Then another. "The co-CEOs." I take a massive gulp. "Kieran and Lysander Fenris. They're... Rose, they're them. The ones from that night." I don't need to say more. Rosalie knows the whole story, the only human who does.

"The baby daddies..." she whispers. Her wine glass stops halfway to her mouth. "Holy shit, Thalia. What are you going to do?" "Keep my head down. Do the work, bill the hours, pray they never find out about the triplets." I drain my glass and pour another. "It's just a job. Just surviving, like always." "Thalia..." "I mean it." My hands are shaking again. "They can't know. If they find out..." "They'll take them." Rosalie finishes the thought I can't say out loud. I look toward the hallway where my kids sleep.

"Alphas don't leave their bloodline running around unacknowledged." We sit in silence while that truth settles between us. "Did they recognize you?" she finally asks. "Immediately." I laugh, but it comes out broken. "Kieran shattered his coffee mug with his bare hand. Lysander went completely feral." I set down my glass before I break it too. "They've been circling me all day like I'm prey." Her face does the thing where it cycles through emotions like a slot machine. "The absolute worst part?" I laugh, bitter. "Some fucked-up piece of me is thrilled they found me.

How's that for Stockholm syndrome?" Rosalie's quiet for a long moment and pours more wine. Then: "Thalia, you can't keep working there. It's too dangerous." "I don't have a choice." The words taste bitter. "You know what happens if I quit-I'm blacklisted, can't get hired anywhere in the Northwest. We'd have to move again, uproot the kids, and I'm out of money for fresh starts." But even as I say it, I remember Kieran's burning stare when I crossed my legs. Lysander's hand brushing mine, that flash of possessive hunger. The way my traitorous body still responds to them after eight years.

We sit in the wreckage of what this means. Two Alpha heirs who've apparently been searching for me for eight years, now with daily access. Three children who are the spitting image of their father. A past that's caught up with a present I can't afford to lose. Archer