Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One

Nathan's POV

My brow furrowed. I never expected to hear him say that.

This boy—Oscar—stood before two powerful men, unshaken. His green eyes were too sharp, too authoritative for a child his age. I crossed my arms, studying him carefully.

"How old are you again?" I asked, thinking maybe I got it wrong.

"Almost ten," he answered without hesitation, stepping into the room as if he owned it. He didn't flinch under my gaze or Dane's. He just walked to the chair opposite my desk, pulled it out, climbed into it, and sat like a young Alpha addressing his council.

Dane and I exchanged a glance but stayed quiet.

Oscar leaned back, his hands folded neatly on his lap. "So let me get this straight," he said slowly, his eyes darting between us. "Were you two… dating my mom back then? Before she left and married my father?"

The words struck like arrows. I didn't speak. Neither did Dane. Silence filled the room.

Oscar tilted his head, his brow furrowing like he was piecing together a puzzle. "I thought so."

He let his gaze roam over us, sharp and unbothered that we were staring right at him. "You both look good," he said with a small shrug. "Handsome. Powerful. Rich. Any woman would want you."

My jaw clenched, unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

"But," Oscar continued smoothly, "the best man isn't the one with the money or the power." He leaned forward, resting his chin on his small hand. "The best man is the one who ends up with my mom. Because my mom is special."

He paused, then smirked. "And since you both clearly want her, I'll have to interview you."

The room went still. I just stared at him, stunned.

This boy wasn't afraid of me. Not even a little.

Leo once told me my aura made children cry without me even opening my mouth. That my presence suffocates them, too sharp for their little hearts. But not this boy.

No—he was sitting here talking to us like we were his age.

And for the first time in a long time… I didn't know what to say.

Oscar didn't waste time. He sat back, eyes narrowed like he was measuring us.

"First question," he said. "Who knows my mom better?"

My chest tightened. A ridiculous thought crossed my mind—I wanted to win this. Badly.

"Her favorite color," Oscar fired, his eyes bouncing between us.

"Red," I said instantly, my voice sharp. "She loves red."

Oscar's brows rose a little, and I saw it in his eyes—he knew I was right.

Dane frowned, his arms crossed. He didn't argue.

Oscar tilted his head, smirking. "Okay. Next… her shoe size?"

Dane spoke before I could. "Six and a half."

My brows shot up. My wolf stirred uneasily. That was right. How the hell did he—?

Oscar nodded slowly. "Correct."

I clenched my fists. I knew he had guessed; I could feel it—but he'd guessed right.

"Next," Oscar said, leaning forward. His sharp little gaze landed on me. "Mom's favorite food."

My lips curved. "Spaghetti with shrimp," I said without hesitation. "And don't argue, boy—I didn't stalk her for four years for nothing."

Oscar blinked, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

I smirked faintly. One point back to me.

"Another one," he said softly, as if this was the question that mattered most. "When's her birthday?"

My throat tightened, but I answered without hesitation. "December twenty-third."

I didn't even blink.

Because I knew. I always knew.

I sent her gifts every year. Wrapped, unsigned, anonymous. To her, I was the man who hated her.

Across from me, Dane's expression faltered. He didn't know. Of course he didn't. He'd only known Hailee for a month before she vanished.

The silence became tense, Oscar staring at me with unreadable eyes. And I wasn't sure if he was impressed. Or suspicious.

But Oscar didn't look satisfied yet. His green eyes gleamed like he was enjoying this.

"Her favorite movie of all time."

I stiffened. Damn it. That was hard. Too hard. I knew Dane wouldn't get it—he barely knew her back then. But me…

I closed my eyes, racking my brain. There had to be something. Some clue.

And then it came.

I remembered a day after school—back when I still pretended to hate Hailee, when teasing her was my favorite pastime. I'd thrown my bag on the desk and shoved my homework at her, demanding she do it. Not because I couldn't—but because I wanted to annoy her. Like I always did.

She'd rolled her eyes, muttered something about me being annoying, and sat there scribbling away. But while she worked, she hummed. A tune I didn't know then but stuck with me. When I asked, she looked up at me for the first time without anger—just a small smile.

"It's from my favorite movie," she'd said softly.

The memory snapped into place like lightning. My eyes opened, and I breathed the words.

"Titanic."

Oscar's eyes widened. He blinked at me, clearly not expecting me to know.

I smiled, remembering that memory. "She said it made her cry every time. And she never missed the chance to watch it, even if she knew how it ended."

Oscar stared at me for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Correct."

Beside me, Dane's jaw tightened. He knew he'd lost that round.

My chest swelled—not with victory, but with something heavier, deeper. Because the truth was… I hadn't stalked her to learn these things. I'd simply remembered. Because even when I tried to hate her, I never really could.

"Hmm," Oscar murmured, tapping his chin with a small finger. "Okay, next question… What animal is Mom most afraid of?"

Dane stiffened. He glanced at me, silent.

I swallowed hard, remembering a memory… the day I walked into Hailee's room and saw her terrified of a snake under her bed. It was ten years ago, but that memory is still fresh in my head… how she clung to me… how we shared our first kiss that day.

"Snakes."

Oscar tilted his head. For a moment, I thought I saw something soften in his gaze. Then it sharpened again.

"Correct," he said. "What does Mom do when she's nervous?"

Dane cleared his throat, answering this time. "She chews her lip."

Oscar's mouth curved faintly. "Correct."

My chest squeezed. He was right. I'd forgotten that—because she stopped doing it around me after I teased her once. But there was one Dane didn't mention.

"She tucks her hair behind her ears," I added quietly.

Oscar blinked, his lips parting slightly. Then he nodded once.

But his gaze lingered on me. And this time, it wasn't admiration. It was suspicion.

He leaned back slowly, his voice quieter now. "You both know a lot about her," he said, almost to himself. Then his eyes lifted, sharp as knives.

"But if you loved her so much…" He paused, letting the silence cut. "…why did you let her go?"

The words hit like a blade to the chest.

I froze. Dane did too.

Oscar's little hands tightened into fists in his lap, his expression suddenly fierce. "If my mom is so special, then why wasn't either of you man enough to keep her?"

The room fell silent, so thick I could hear the pounding of my own heartbeat.

For the first time, I had no answer.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to look away. My wolf snarled inside, restless, but even he had no answer.

I'd failed. We both had.

Dane shifted beside me, his jaw tight, his face pale like the boy's words had cut into bone. But he didn't speak either.

Oscar leaned forward, his small hands resting on the desk. "See? That's what I thought." His voice was steady, calm, but his eyes burned. "You talk like you love her. You remember all these little things about her. But love isn't remembering her favorite food, or movie, or color."

His chin lifted, his voice sharp as an Alpha's command. "Love is not letting her go. Love is protecting her, no matter what. And neither of you did."

The silence was suffocating. I swallowed hard, my chest aching like he'd pressed his tiny hands against my heart and squeezed.

Dane finally exhaled, shaking his head. "Kid, you don't understand—"

"I understand more than you think," Oscar cut him off, his voice firm. "I see my mom cry at night. I see the way she hides things from us. I believe you two hurt her, and that's why she left."

Goddess. His words… they weren't childish. They were heavy. Too heavy for a boy his age.

I stared at him, my lips parting, but no sound came.

For once, I—Nathan Dominic Luciano, Alpha feared across packs—was speechless before a ten-year-old.

Dane suddenly asked, "Your mom? She cries at night? Why?" He sounded so curious about that.

Oscar frowned. For a moment, I thought he'd answer, but instead he murmured, "I have to get going… Mom should be looking for me."

With that, he strolled out of the office, leaving Dane and me dumbfounded.