Chapter 315: A Mother’s Prayer

That night, Jessica lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as though it might offer some explanation for the chaos her life had become. The day had been too full, too strange, and her mind refused to settle.

She thought about Sebastian and his sudden fury at dinner. The way he had reacted to the entire conversation, the way he had stormed out and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls. He had never spoken to her like that before. Not once in three years. Was that just jealousy?

Later, she thought about Odelia’s words. What if he’s right? You don’t remember anything from before three years ago, Sid. What if you are her?

Jessica rolled onto her side and let out a long breath.

Her mind drifted to Miss Alicia Westwood and the way the woman had looked at her in the corridor that first day. The shock, the fear, the way she had fallen over her own feet at the sight of Jessica’s face. It had been more than simple surprise at meeting a new employee. Jessica was certain of it. Something was there. Something that did not fit.

But then she thought about her file. Sidonie Hart. Born twenty-three years ago. A real person with a real history. She had documents. Records. A past.

So why did everything feel so unfinished?

Maybe it was simple. Maybe she just had a striking resemblance to Kai’s ex-girlfriend. Maybe that was all this was—a bizarre coincidence that would sort itself out once the Chairman came to his senses.

She tossed in bed, turning onto her side. Then her back. Then her stomach, but nothing helped. Every time she closed her eyes, his face appeared behind her lids. That mischievous smirk. Those sea blue eyes, intense and searching. The way he had held her like she was something precious, something lost and finally found.

"Stop it," she whispered into the darkness. "Stop thinking about him."

The darkness, predictably, did not cooperate.

It took a long time, but eventually her body gave in. Her breathing slowed, her muscles went slack, and the world began to blur at the edges.

And when she finally slipped into sleep, Kai was already waiting in her dreams.

***

Angelica moved through the quiet corridors of the pack house with quick strides. The morning was still pale outside the windows, the sun only just beginning to stretch over the treeline, and the house had not yet shaken off the hush of sleep.

She had made a decision somewhere around four in the morning, lying in the dark and listening to the wind go round the eaves, and the decision was this: she was going to catch her son, Kai, before he left for work, and she was going to say the things she had been carefully not saying for a few days now.

When she reached his bedroom door, she knocked once for formality, and pushed the door open.

A young maid straightened up from the bed with an armful of sheets and nearly dropped the lot.

"Mother Luna! Goodness. Sorry."

Angelica looked past her at the empty room. But there was no sign of Kai anywhere. "Where is he?"

"Alpha Kai has gone for training, Ma," the servant replied. "He left about an hour ago."

Angelica blinked. "Training," she repeated.

"Yes, Mother Luna. He went out before dawn."

Angelica stood there in the doorway for a moment longer than was dignified.

Training. Kai had gone for training. In the few weeks since he had returned to Crescent Moon, in all the weeks since he had accepted the Alpha title, Kai had never once gone down to the training grounds.

He did not train with his gammas. He did not run with the patrols. He barely interacted with anyone outside his immediate circle. Tan had been handling all the administrative duties of the pack, and Kai had simply... drifted.

But now he was training.

"Thank you," Angelica said slowly, her mind already turning over this new information. She backed out of the room and turned toward the opposite wing of the house.

Tan was already dressed when she arrived, seated in his wheelchair near the window, and Dr Phil, the pack’s physiotherapist, was kneeling beside him, with his sleeves pushed up, finishing off the morning’s work on Tan’s legs, pressing and releasing along the muscle.

"Good morning," Angelica said as she entered.

Dr Phil looked up and inclined his head. "Good morning, Madam Angelica."

"How is he doing?" she asked, her eyes going to her elder son’s face.

Dr Phil’s expression remained carefully neutral. "He’s doing well. As well as can be expected." He returned his attention to the massage, his fingers pressing into the weakened muscle.

"He’s sitting right here," said Tan.

"He’s fine and he’s sitting right there," Dr Phil agreed, and gave the leg a final firm press before straightening up and rolling his sleeves back down.

Angelica looked at her son.

He was clean-shaven and neatly dressed and perfectly composed, and underneath all of it there was the same expression he had worn every single day since the war. That heaviness about him that had settled in since the injury, a sadness that never quite left his eyes. It was the same sadness she saw in Kai, though each man wore it differently. Tan wore his like a coat, always present, always visible. Kai wore his like a blade.

Her two sons were both alive, both breathing, and both wretchedly unhappy.

"Would you like breakfast brought up?" she asked.

"No. Thank you." Tan turned his chair a fraction towards the window. "I’d like to be on my own for a bit, if that’s all right."

Dr Phil glanced at Angelica. She nodded, and the doctor rose, gathering his equipment into his case. Together, they stepped out into the hallway, and the door closed behind them.

"His legs are still not improving," Dr Phil said, keeping his voice low. "I’ve suggested several treatment plans, new therapies, but he refuses to accept any of them. He’s stubborn." A pause. "He needs a nurse, Madam. Someone to help him with daily tasks, to manage his care when I’m not available."

Angelica pressed her lips together, absorbing this. "I’ll think about it," she said. "I’ll speak to him."

Dr Phil nodded, clearly accustomed to this answer. "Then I’ll take my leave. I’ll return this afternoon for his next session."

He walked away down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the house, and Angelica was left alone.

She closed her eyes, and made a silent prayer. It was not a new prayer—she had been saying it for years now, in some form or another—but this morning, for some reason, it felt more urgent.

Goddess. Give me my sons back. Let them heal. Let them both find their way back. Let them find joy. Let them find their soul bonds and have heirs. Let them live, and let me be alive to see it.