The Luna He Rejected: An Alpha's Regret

CHAPTER 24

Seraphine’s POV

The drive to Millhaven felt like it took forever, even though we pushed the car as hard as we could. Caden drove with one hand tight on the wheel and the other gripping the gear shift like he was holding himself back from something violent. I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the dark road ahead, my mind running through everything that had happened in the last few hours. The stolen birth certificates. Brennan luring my father out of Ironmoor. The narrow window we had to file the paternity claim before Isolde could strike first.

Amara sat in the back with the legal documents already prepared on her tablet. Marcus had stayed behind in Ironmoor to coordinate security, but he had sent two warriors with us for protection. They followed in a separate car.

Caden hadn’t said much since we left the packhouse. I could feel the tension rolling off him through the bond, anger, frustration, and something else I couldn’t name. Fear, maybe. Not for himself. For what this could do to the children.

When we finally pulled up in front of the small guesthouse where my father was staying, it was already past eleven. The building was quiet, most of the windows dark. Caden killed the engine and we both got out at the same time. The two warriors stayed back near the cars, giving us space but remaining alert.

I walked up the short path to the front door and knocked. My stomach was tight. I hadn’t seen my father in person since the hearing, and the last real conversation we’d had was tense and distant. Now I was standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night asking for his help after months of silence.

The door opened after a few seconds.

My dad stood there in a dark sweater and pants, his hair slightly messy like he had been running his hands through it. He looked older than I remembered. The lines around his eyes were deeper, and there was a tiredness in his posture that hadn’t been there before. When he saw me, his face went through several emotions at once, surprise, confusion, and something that looked a lot like pain.

Then his eyes moved past me to Caden.

The change in his expression was immediate. Old resentment flickered across his face. But when he looked back at me, there was something else in his eyes. Uncertainty. Like he was starting to wonder if the story he had been told was true.

“Seraphine,” he said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. The clock was ticking.

“We need you to sign something,” I said. “Right now. It’s important.”

He stepped aside and let us in. The guesthouse was small but clean. A single lamp was on in the living room. Papers were scattered on the small table near the couch. He must have been going through them when we knocked.

Caden stayed near the door at first, giving my father space. Amara moved quietly to the side, tablet already open.

Kofi looked between us. “What’s going on?”

I met his eyes directly. “Brennan lied to you. About everything.”

My father’s jaw tightened. He didn’t speak, but I could see the conflict moving across his face.

I continued, keeping my voice steady. “He told you Caden was tracking me. That he was planning to take the twins by force and drag us back to Ironmoor. That’s not what happened.”

Kofi’s shoulders were stiff. “He said Caden was using the children as leverage. That he never wanted them until it became useful to him politically.”

“That’s not true,” I said. I stepped closer, keeping my tone calm but firm. “Caden didn’t know about the twins until a few weeks ago. I left Ironmoor four years ago without telling him I was pregnant. He only found out when he came to Millhaven.”

My father looked at me for a long moment, searching my face like he was trying to find the lie. I let him look. I had nothing to hide from him anyway.

I pulled out my phone and showed him the timeline Amara had prepared — the dates of the council hearing, the dates Caden had filed the initial paternity paperwork, the dates of the threats we had received. I walked him through it slowly, piece by piece. The lies Brennan had fed him. The way Isolde had used my father’s protective instincts against us.

It was painful to watch. I could see the moment the doubt started to c***k through the story he had believed. His face changed, the anger fading into realization. And underneath it, hurt. Not just at Brennan, but at himself for believing it so easily.

Kofi sat down slowly on the edge of the couch. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he said quietly. “After everything that happened years ago… I didn’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I know,” I said. My voice softened. “But you were being used.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then he looked past me at Caden, who had stayed near the door the entire time.

Caden stepped forward when my father’s eyes landed on him. He didn’t try to soften his expression or offer some polished speech. He just stood there, meeting Kofi’s gaze directly.

Kofi’s voice was rough when he spoke. “Are you going to hurt her again?”

The question hung in the air between them.

Caden didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. When he answered, his voice was low and steady.

“I made mistakes four years ago that I will regret for the rest of my life. I was careless with her. I let my own guilt and my title get in the way of seeing what was right in front of me. I won’t make those mistakes again. I will do whatever it takes to protect her and the children. Even if it costs me everything.”

It wasn’t a pretty apology. It wasn’t flowery or rehearsed. It was raw and honest. And somehow, that made it land harder than any polished words could have.

My father studied him for a long moment. Then he gave a small, tired nod.

He picked up the pen Amara had placed on the table.

Without another word, he signed the paternity claim.

Amara immediately took the documents and stepped outside to file them electronically. At 11:47 PM, the claim went through. We had beaten the deadline.

For the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe again.

We were about to leave when Kofi stopped us at the door.

“There’s one more thing,” he said.

We turned back.

Kofi looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Caden, then at me.

“Brennan mentioned something else before he sent me here. Something that didn’t have anything to do with the paperwork.” He hesitated. “He said Isolde has a recording. From four years ago. From inside the Ironmoor council chamber.”

Kofi continued, his voice low. “Brennan said the recording is of you, Caden. Dismissing your bond with Seraphine. Calling it a political inconvenience. He said Isolde has been holding onto it.”

The words landed like ice in my chest.

Caden didn’t speak. But I felt the shift in him through the bond — a sharp, painful pull of old shame and fresh anger.

I looked at my father. “Did Brennan say anything else about the recording?”

Kofi shook his head. “That was all he told me. But he made it sound like Isolde plans to use it.”

We stood there in the quiet guesthouse, the weight of this new information settling over us. We had filed the claim. We had gotten ahead on paper.

But Isolde still had weapons we hadn’t seen yet.

And one of them was a recording of the worst moment of my marriage — Caden’s voice, four years ago, saying the bond between us meant nothing.