Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 337

Chapter 337: His Apartment

Olivia’s POV

In exactly three minutes, I pulled myself out of my room and teleported to a quiet corner near the coffee shop. The afternoon sun spilled golden light across the street, warming the stone paths, but my chest still felt cold and tight.

Then, the hum of an engine reached my ears. I looked up just as a car rolled steadily toward the shop, its dark paint glinting under the sun. My eyes dropped to the plate, and recognition struck instantly—the Alpha’s crest, bold and obvious.

For a breath, my heart settled. At one glance, the driver eased the knot in my chest. It was Louis. Even behind the glass, I knew it was him. His calm presence radiated like an anchor, steady and comforting, pulling me back from the storm raging inside me. I didn’t wait for him to come out of the car. Instead, my feet carried me forward before I could second-guess myself. The car slowed to a stop, and I walked straight to the passenger side, my hand trembling only slightly as I pulled the door open.

Louis turned his head, his calm brown eyes locking onto mine. The concern was etched into his features. He didn’t say anything at first, but the way his gaze studied me made words unnecessary. I slipped into the seat beside him, shutting the door softly but firmly, as if sealing myself away from the chaos I had left behind. The scent of him mixed with the lingering leather of the car, wrapping around me like a shield.

"Olivia..." he finally spoke, his voice low and concerned. "Tell me the truth—are you okay?" My lips parted, but no sound came out at first. My chest rose and fell, heavy, the fire inside me refusing to calm. I turned my head, meeting his gaze with a rawness I couldn’t hide.

"No," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I’m not okay."

His jaw tightened, but he reached across gently, his hand brushing against mine, comforting me. "You will be fine. I’m here."

I nodded and flashed him a weak smile. Louis smiled back at me, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes because he was worried about me. Then he started the car. The engine hummed softly as Louis pulled away from the coffee shop. I sat in silence, my gaze fixed out the window, watching the world blur past. Each turn of the wheels seemed to take me further from the suffocating weight I’d left behind. Louis didn’t speak again, and I was grateful for it. His silence wasn’t cold—it was comforting, patient, like he was giving me the space I didn’t even know I needed. Every so often, I could feel his eyes flicker toward me, checking, but never pushing.

After a few minutes, he turned into a quieter street, lined with neat trees and smaller buildings. The car slowed, then finally rolled to a stop in front of an apartment complex tucked away at the back of the block.

He cut the engine, the sudden silence filling the car like a blanket. Without a word, Louis stepped out, and before I could reach for the handle, he was already there, opening my door.

I looked up at him, the golden afternoon light casting soft shadows across his face. Louis was devastatingly handsome. His jaw was strong but not harsh, balanced by the softness of his full lips. His deep brown eyes carried a calm steadiness that could disarm anyone; they were the kind of eyes that seemed to listen even when no words were spoken. His hair was slightly tousled from the breeze, dark strands catching the sun in subtle glints. Broad shoulders filled his shirt effortlessly, his frame solid, reliable—like someone carved by the gods for both strength and gentleness.

And still... he wasn’t Lennox nor Levi. That was what I loved about them. The triplets weren’t identical copies. They shared the same blood, the same bond, but each carried their own face, their own aura, their own pull. Loving them was like standing before three versions of perfection—three different storms, each capable of undoing me in their own way.

I finally swung my legs out, the soles of my shoes crunching lightly against the gravel. Rising to my feet, I took in the place. It was quiet, private, hidden from the chaos and activities of the packhouse.

"This is yours?" I asked softly, my voice still shaky.

Louis nodded once, his calm gaze never leaving me. "Ours," he said gently, correcting himself, as though to remind me that I wasn’t alone anymore.

Louis slipped his keys from his pocket and walked ahead of me toward the entrance. His steps were steady, unhurried, like he wanted me to feel there was no rush, no pressure—only safety. He glanced back once, giving me a reassuring look.

"I already asked my housekeeper to leave," he said quietly as he slid the key into the lock. "So it’s just us."

Something about the way he said it—simple, calm—eased the tension coiled inside my chest. The door opened with a soft click, and he stepped aside, holding it for me. I hesitated only a second before moving forward.

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