<h4>Chapter 153: Demanding</h4>


    Hailee’s POV


    "We are not hungry," they chorused in unison.


    I lifted my brow, staring at the three of them. My sons. My stubborn little wolves.


    Oscar’s arms were folded across his chest, his green eyes zing with anger. Oliver, usually the quiet one, pressed his lips together tight but refused to look at me. And Ozzy—my calmest—just sat there, his brown eyes steady, watching me like he was the oldest instead of the youngest.


    "Not hungry?" I repeated slowly. "That’s strange, because I heard your stomachs growling all the way from the kitchen."


    None of them spoke. Their little jaws were locked, their bodies stiff, as if they had agreed on this before I even walked in.


    I stepped closer, softening my tone. "Boys, you need to eat. You can’t just—"


    "No," Oscar snapped, cutting me off. His little chin lifted, stubborn like Nathan. "We said we’re not eating."


    Something twisted in my chest. "Oscar..."


    Then Oliver spoke, his sea-blue eyes finally lifting to mine. They were wet, but his voice was steady. "Until you take us to our dad, we won’t eat."


    The words hit me like a strike to the heart.


    Ozzy nodded slowly, his voice quiet but firm. "We know you’re hiding him from us, Mama. We want our dad. All of us. Or we won’t eat anything."


    For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My hands trembled where they hung at my sides, my throat tightening as their words sank in.


    Their little faces—so fierce, so hurt, so demanding—mirrored the men I had once loved. Nathan’s attitude. Callum’s steadiness. Dane’s calm. All staring back at me, demanding answers I couldn’t give.


    I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady even as tears burned in my eyes. "Boys..." My voice cracked. "I told you he is dead."


    But they shook their heads, all three of them, their voices rising together.


    "Until you take us to our dad, we won’t eat."


    My knees weakened, but I forced myself to stay standing. Their words cut deeper than any wound I had ever known. My sons—my whole world—looking at me like I was their enemy.


    "I told you," I whispered again, my chest aching, "your father is dead." I lied again.


    Oscar’s small fists balled up at his sides. "You’re lying!" he shouted. His little voice cracked, full of pain. "If he was dead, we’d feel it. We’d know. You’re hiding him!"


    Oliver’s lips trembled, but he stayed firm, his sea-blue eyes locked on mine. "We’re not eating, Mama. Not until you stop lying."


    Ozzy didn’t raise his voice, but his quiet tone broke me worse than any shout. "We’re wolves too. We can feel it. He’s alive."


    Tears blurred my vision. My throat closed, no words able toe out. They were right. They were smarter than their years, sharper than I wanted to admit. I had underestimated them, thinking they wouldn’t sense the truth.


    The door creaked open behind me.


    "Enough."


    Frederick’s voice was calm, low, but it carried the weight ofmand. The boys froze, their little eyes snapping to him.


    He stepped into the room, his tall frame filling the doorway. His gaze swept over the boys—defiant, angry, hurting—and then softened, just a little.


    He crossed the floor slowly, his presence steady, like a wall they couldn’t shake. When he reached me, his cool hand brushed my trembling shoulder, grounding me.


    "Children," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "You will eat."


    Oscar’s chin jutted up. "Not until Mama takes us to our dad!"


    Frederick crouched so he was eye level with them, his sharp features unreadable, his voice quiet but iron-strong. "I will not watch you starve yourselves to death because of anger. You need food." His eyes lingered on Oscar, then Oliver, then Ozzy. "Stop this attitude and eat."


    The boys shifted ufortably under his stare, but they didn’t back down. Their silence was their answer.


    The silence stretched heavy between us, so thick I could almost hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Frederick’s gaze stayed locked on the boys, his posture calm, but I could feel the tension in him—the restraint in him not to snap at them. He knew their attitude was hurting me, and he hated it.


    And then, out of nowhere, Oscar broke it.


    "We don’t have a problem if you want to be with Godfather Frederick," he said suddenly, his little voice firm, almost too grown for his age.


    The words froze me in ce. My breath caught. "What...?" I whispered, not sure I’d heard him right.


    Oscar’s green eyes burned as he looked at me, his chin lifting like he had made up his mind long ago. "If he makes you happy, Mama, then be with him. We don’t care. He’s good to us. He takes care of us." He paused, then added, his voice sharper, "But that’s not what we’re asking for."


    Oliver nodded quickly, stepping in. "We just want to see our dad. To talk to him. To know him."


    Ozzy’s calm little voice camest, steady and soft like always. "We’re not saying you have to be with him again, Mama. We just want the truth. We just want him. To see him... to know what he looks like, then everything can go back to normal as it was."


    My mouth fell open, but no words came out. Shock rooted me to the floor. My sons—my babies—were speaking like men, asking for truths I had sworn to bury.


    Their voices echoed in my ears. We just want him. To see him... to know what he looks like.


    I wanted to scream. I wanted to hold them and beg them to let it go, to keep believing the lie, because once the truth came out—once Nathan, Callum, or Dane knew—nothing would ever be the same again.


    I could already see it.


    The moment the three of themid eyes on these boys, there would be no going back. Even if a paternity test was done, even if the truth finally showed which of them was the father... Nathan, Callum, or Dane—whoever it turned out to be—he would never, ever let go.


    That man would fight for them. im them. Take them from me if he had to.


    And then nothing would ever be the same.


    The fragile life I had built here, the shield Frederick had helped me hold, would break. My boys wouldn’t just be mine anymore. They’d belong to him too. To his world. To his rules.


    And I wasn’t ready for that.


    The thought made my chest ache so badly I almost doubled over.


    They were mine. Mine. I had carried them, bled for them, and nearly died bringing them into this world. And yet, the moment that man knew of their existence, I would lose them.


    I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing my tears down. No... never. They are not meeting him.


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