Fated To Not Just One, But Three-Chapter 628: His Daughter

Olivia’s POV

The next day, Adrian’s men came for me.

I got into the car without hesitation, settling into the back seat as the doors closed softly behind me. The convoy pulled away smoothly, heading toward his territory. It was a long drive—almost two hours. I could have teleported there in seconds, but I didn’t.

This was my first time visiting him.

I wanted to do this the normal way.

The road stretched on, trees blurring past the windows. My thoughts kept drifting back to her. I was nervous about what I was going to do... how I was going to help her.

When we finally arrived, the black SUV rolled through tall gates and into a vast estate.

Adrian’s pack house.

As the car slowed to a stop, I noticed him immediately.

Adrian was already waiting outside.

He wasn’t dressed like an Alpha King today. No formal coat. No symbols of power. Just black jeans and a fitted black shirt, his sleeves pushed up casually. He looked... human.

Almost nervous.

The door opened, and I stepped out.

He moved toward me at once. "Olivia," he said warmly. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded. "I said I would."

His shoulders relaxed, and a soft smile crossed his face. "She’s in her room," he said gently. "Would you like to see her now?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

He led me inside.

The pack house was quiet. Peaceful. Too quiet for a place meant to hold a child.

We stopped in front of a white door.

Adrian hesitated, then knocked lightly. "Sweetheart?"

The door opened.

And there she was.

The moment her eyes landed on me... she smiled.

A real smile.

Small, but bright.

My breath caught.

Even Adrian froze beside me, clearly shocked.

"She..." he whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

The little girl didn’t speak. Instead, she stepped aside and tapped the empty space beside her bed, looking straight at me. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

It was an invitation for me to sit.

I swallowed and walked in slowly, sitting where she pointed.

She climbed up beside me, then reached for her iPad. Her small fingers moved carefully as she typed something out.

She turned the screen toward me.

My name is Elara.

My chest tightened.

"That’s a beautiful name," I said softly. "I’m Olivia."

Her lips curved into a bigger smile. She typed again, faster this time.

I like you.

I felt my eyes burn.

Before I could respond, she added more words.

Can you be my new mommy?

The room went completely still.

Adrian sucked in a sharp breath behind us.

My heart shattered.

I didn’t answer right away. I turned fully toward her, meeting her eyes.

"No, my dear."

Her smile faded just a little.

"But," I continued softly, "I can be your friend. I can sit with you. Talk to you. Be here when you need someone."

She stared at me for a long moment.

Then she nodded.

My eyes drifted to the paper beside her bed.

She had been drawing.

I leaned closer without touching it at first, afraid to startle her.

It was beautiful.

"You drew this?" I asked softly.

Elara nodded.

A slow, careful nod.

"You’re very talented," I said honestly. "This is really beautiful."

Her shoulders lifted just a little, like she was proud but shy about it.

I smiled at her. "Would you like to try something with me?"

She tilted her head, curious.

"You don’t have to," I added quickly. "Only if you want to."

She thought for a moment... then nodded again.

"Okay," I said gently. "Can we try using your voice? Just small words. Simple ones. Like yes or no."

Her fingers tightened slightly around the iPad.

I waited.

"I’ll ask you something very easy," I said. "And you can answer any way you like. With your voice... or with your head. Either is fine."

She looked at me closely.

Then she nodded.

"Do you like drawing?" I asked softly.

Her lips parted.

Nothing came out at first.

She swallowed.

Her brows pulled together like she was fighting something inside her.

I didn’t rush her.

Didn’t look at Adrian.

Didn’t breathe too loud.

Then—very softly—barely louder than a breath—"Y"... yes."

The sound was shaky. Broken. But it was there.

A word.

My eyes burned instantly.

"That’s perfect," I whispered. "You did so well."

Elara’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe she had done it.

Behind me, I heard Adrian choke back a sob.

She looked at him, then back at me, and smiled boldly.

Behind me, I felt it.

Adrian.

He had turned away.

His shoulders were shaking.

He didn’t make a sound, but I could feel his pain and his relief crashing into each other.

Elara looked past me, her eyes landing on her father.

She tilted her head.

"D... Daddy?" she whispered.

The word was faint. Fragile.

But it was real.

Adrian broke.

He covered his mouth, his knees giving out as he dropped to one knee beside the bed.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy is here."

Slowly, she wiped his face with her hands. Her lips parted, and I could see she really wanted to say something but was finding it hard to form the words.

"It’s okay," I comforted her. "One word at a time. You don’t have to force it. Okay?" I said to her.

She nodded and smiled at me before looking back at her dad and smiling.

I stayed with her a little longer.

We talked in soft voices.

About her drawings.

About her favorite colors.

Sometimes she answered with nods.

Sometimes with small smiles.

And once... just once more... she whispered another quiet "yes."

Each sound felt like a miracle.

After a while, I knew I had to leave.

"I have to go now," I said gently. "But I’ll come back."

Her fingers flew over the screen.

Will I see you again?

My chest tightened.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Very soon."

She smiled and leaned forward, wrapping her small arms around my neck.

I hugged her carefully, afraid to overwhelm her, breathing in the faint scent of crayons and lavender.

"Goodbye for now, Elara," I whispered.

She pulled back and gave me a small wave.

I stood and followed Adrian out of the room while the healers quietly stepped in to check on her.

The moment the door closed behind us, Adrian let out a shaky breath.

We walked into the living room, and he gestured for me to sit.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice thick. "What you did today... it’s more than I ever hoped for."

I shook my head lightly. "She’s strong. She did this."

He nodded, then fell silent.

I hesitated before speaking.

"Adrian... what really happened to her?" I asked softly. "How did she lose her voice?"

His jaw tightened.

He sat across from me, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

"My wife didn’t die in a private jet crash," he said quietly. "I lied to people. That is what I wanted them to believe."

He sucked in a deep breath. "She was there," he continued. "The night my wife died."

My heart sank.

"There was an attack," he went on. "A rival pack. We thought the borders were secure. We were wrong."

His voice broke slightly.

"Elara saw everything. The blood. The shouting. Her mother falling."

I swallowed hard.

"She screamed that night," Adrian said. "She screamed until her voice gave out. And when the healers finally got her to sleep... she never spoke again."

Tears filled his eyes.

"She didn’t just lose her mother," he whispered. "She lost her sense of safety. Her trust in the world."

Silence settled between us.

"That’s why what you did matters," he went on quietly. "For the first time since that night... she didn’t look afraid."

I pressed my hands together, steadying myself.

"She doesn’t need fixing," I said gently. "She needs time. And patience. And people who make her feel safe."

He nodded slowly. "And you do that."

I nodded. "I’ll try my best."

I stood up to leave but noticed the healers returning.

Their expressions were different now—lighter. Hopeful.

One of them smiled the moment she saw me. "Luna Olivia," she said softly, "your interaction with Elara has already made a difference."

Adrian straightened immediately. "What do you mean?"

The elder healer stepped forward. "Her pulse steadied faster than usual. Her breathing remained calm. And most importantly—she attempted speech more than once."

My heart skipped.

"That hasn’t happened in three years," the healer continued. "Not even during therapy sessions."

I swallowed. "So... it helped?"

"Yes," the elder healer said without hesitation. "Very much so."

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, his eyes shining. "What do you suggest?" he asked carefully, like he was afraid to hope too much.

"If possible," the healer replied, "it would be very beneficial if Luna Olivia could visit at least once or twice a week. Familiar presence is important for trauma recovery. Especially one the child already trusts."

I felt the weight of that sink into my chest.

Adrian turned to me quickly. "You don’t have to," he said at once. "I don’t want to pressure you. I know you have your own life. Your own family."

I looked at him.

Then I thought of Elara.

"I’ll help," I said quietly.

Adrian froze. "Olivia—"

"I’ll come," I repeated. "Once or twice a week. I can do that."

Relief crashed over his face so hard it almost made him stagger.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much."

"This isn’t about favors," I said gently. "It’s about a little girl who deserves to feel safe again."

He nodded, his voice thick. "Still... thank you."

The healers exchanged looks of appreciation before excusing themselves.

I picked up my bag and turned toward the door.

"I’ll see her again soon," I said.

Adrian followed me out.

I paused at the door and turned back to him.

"I can teleport," I said calmly. "There’s no need for your men to take me back."

Adrian hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you again... for everything."

He stepped closer, reaching for my hands.

Before I could stop him, he lifted them gently and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice low. "I won’t forget this."

My wolf stirred.

Calvin was right, she whispered. This man is into you.

My frown deepened.

I slowly pulled my hands away from his grasp, putting a little distance between us.

"This doesn’t change anything," I said quietly. "I’m doing this for Elara. Nothing more."

Adrian opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something—maybe to explain, maybe to deny it.

I didn’t wait.

I stepped back, closed my eyes, and teleported.