Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 327

Chapter 327: Involving Damien

Olivia’s POV

I found myself standing in the middle of Damien’s office, my heart pounding. I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here—all I had done was think about him, and the next moment, I’d teleported.

He was mid-sentence with someone, a stack of papers in his hand, when he froze. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Olivia?" he said slowly, as though unsure if I was real. "How the hell—"

"There’s no time for questions," I cut in, my tone sharp. "Sofia needs your help. Now."

His brows knitted together, confusion flashing across his face. "Sofia? What happened?"

I shook my head. "I can’t explain here. Just trust me and come."

He hesitated, still looking like he was trying to process my sudden appearance.

"Olivia—"

"Damien!" I snapped, my voice raising with impatience. "This isn’t a request."

Something in my tone must have convinced him, because he set the papers aside and moved toward me without another word. I reached for his arm, the power thrumming in my veins again, and the next second, we were gone.

We appeared in the hallway outside the children’s ward, and Damien’s head snapped toward the sudden sounds of nurses moving, quiet beeps from heart monitors.

I led him forward without a word, my steps fast and panicked. The moment we entered Sofia’s room, she looked up from the bedside, her face pale and drawn.

"Damien..." she breathed, relief and hesitation tangled in her voice.

He froze for half a heartbeat, his gaze locking on her. Worry flared in his eyes, the kind that came from deep, old ties. But then... his attention dropped to the small figure lying in the bed. His pupils widened, locking on the boy’s face as though the rest of the room had vanished.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him.

His wolf had claimed the boy in an instant—his blood, his kin.

His wolf had recognized the little boy.

Damien’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. His gaze stayed fixed on the boy, his eyes filled with a million emotions. Sofia’s grip on the bedsheet tightened, and for a moment, no one moved or spoke.

Slowly, Damien approached the little boy, his eyes fixed on him. I stared at Sofia and saw the unease in her... she was so terrified.

Damien’s steps were slow, almost predatory, as if each movement was controlled to keep his wolf from pushing forward. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his shadow falling over the small, fragile body.

The boy stirred faintly, his lashes fluttering before settling again. Damien’s gaze traced his features—the curve of his cheek, every line that seemed achingly familiar.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough, and dangerous in its restraint.

"How old is he, Sofia?"

Sofia’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her knuckles were white where she clutched the blanket.

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