Chapter 7

The trip back from the hospital was a blur to Dean. His mind was a storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, sorrow—all swirled together in a confusion of storms. The reality that Ethan wasn't his son had stunned him. How could Lydia have tricked him all those years? How could she have let him fall in love with a child who wasn't his own?

Taking a deep breath as he approached the front entrance of his expansive estate, Dean prepared himself for the war within that awaited him. The home, once a warm and comfortable place, now felt chill and alien. Every corner was a reminder of the life he had known with Lydia—a life that now looked like a gossamer illusion.

He walked into the house, the stillness of the house enveloping him. Lydia was nowhere in sight, but he could hear her voice, low and distant, coming from the living room. She was on the telephone, her speech strained and agitated. Dean hesitated, then silently approached the doorway to listen in.

Yes, I know it's terrible," Lydia was whispering, her voice trembling. "But I had no choice. The pack had to be secure, and I did what I needed to do. Please, please just give me a little time to set things right.".

Dean's jaw tightened. So she was already trying to spin the truth to someone else already. He couldn't help but wonder to whom she was talking—the elders, perhaps? Or someone else in the pack who had been as culpable of her dishonesty.

Without ado, he pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Lydia's head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock. She ended her call, her face white.

"Dean," she said to him, her voice tightly controlled. "I wasn't anticipating you home so early."

Dean said nothing. He simply stood there, looking at her, until the thick silence was more than she could endure.

"Look," Lydia began, her voice cracking, "I know things appear horrible, but I can explain—

"Already explained," Dean interrupted, his voice low and threatening. "You told me yourself—you did what you had to do for the pack. But what about what I had to have? What about the fact that I had a right to know the truth?"

Lydia's eyes flicked aside from his, and for a moment, Dean saw the same regret that had been gnawing at him in her eyes. "I thought it was best," she barely breathed.

"Best for whom?" Dean demanded, his voice rising. "You? The pack? Because it sure as hell wasn't for me or Ethan.".

Lydia parted her lips to say something, then closed them again. Whatever had crossed her mind, she clearly realized that it was no longer going to make a difference. Trust had been lost between them, and it was something that could not be restored.

Dean took a step forward, his anger contained. "Do you have any idea what it's like to find out that everything you thought was a lie? To realize that the woman you loved, the woman you married, was willing to build a life on deceit?"

Tears brimmed in Lydia's eyes, but she blinked them back stubbornly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never intended to hurt you."

Dean laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. "Sorry isn't enough, Lydia. It doesn't make up for all those years of deception. It doesn't make up for raising a son who's not my own. It doesn't make up for all you've caused our family harm."

Lydia's shoulders slumped, and Dean caught, for the first time, the vulnerability beneath her carefully constructed armor. "I know," she whispered. "And I wish I could take it back."

Dean's heart ached at the sight of her pain, but it was not enough to dull the sharp edge of his own. He turned away, unable to look at her. "I have to think," he said, his voice strained.

He walked to the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. The room was hot, thick with memories and unanswered questions. Dean walked back and forth across the floor, his mind reeling as he tried to put everything into perspective.

How had he not paid attention? The signs were there right in front of him—how Lydia would always dodge questioning about Ethan's early life, the way she had gotten upset whenever he spoke of having other kids. Was she planning this scam all along?

And Ethan—dear, sweet Ethan—how was he supposed to comprehend any of this? Dean had cared for that boy as his own son, had seen them as a family to be built together. And now, all that was taken from him.

There was a knock on the door that made Dean jump. "Leave me alone," he snarled, not even making the pretense of trying to conceal the venom in his voice.

"It's me," Lydia said softly. "May I speak with you?"

Dean paused and pushed open the door. Lydia stood there, her eyes regarding him with sadness and determination. "I know I hurt you," she told him, "and I know I don't deserve to be forgiven. But we have to discuss what we do next."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "What is there to discuss? You lied to me. Our marriage is built on a lie. How are we supposed to move forward from that?

Lydia took a deep breath. "Maybe we can't," she replied. "But Ethan still needs us. The pack still needs us. We can't do everything for them and then abandon them." 

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "You mean we should stay together for appearances' sake?"

No, Lydia said. "I'm saying that whatever happens to us, we must make sure Ethan is taken care of. And the pack—they must have leaders who will put their people first.".

Dean gazed at her for a moment, trying to read the truth in her eyes. Was she genuinely concerned, or was this another attempt to play him? He didn't know for sure, but he did know this: their marriage could not continue as it had been.

"I want a divorce," Dean finally spoke, the words feeling both heavy and liberating as they left his lips.

Lydia's face paled, but she did not falter. "I thought you would say that," she breathed. "And maybe. maybe it is for the best."

Dean felt a strange mix of relief and remorse sweep over him. Relief that he was finally asserting control over his life, remorse for the love they had shared. "I'll speak to the elders tomorrow," he said. "We'll make the arrangements.".

Lydia nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I understand."

She turned to go, but Dean spoke up. "Lydia?"

She stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he said softly. "For at least admitting the truth now."

Lydia gave him a small, sad smile. "Goodbye, Dean."

"Goodbye, Lydia."

Once she was out of sight, Dean collapsed onto the side of the bed, burying his face in his hands. The weight of his decision bore down on him, yet for the first time in days, there was a sense of clarity. He was done with living a lie. Whatever the future held, he would face it with honesty and integrity.

But as the night wore on, Dean couldn't sleep. He moved through the black, empty rooms of the house, each a reminder of the life he'd taken on. Lydia's deception had torn it apart, and he knew he would never be able to glue the pieces back together.

Finally, all he could do was hope that being truthful would be enough to repair the damage—his, Ethan's, and the pack's. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the best course of action.

As morning dawned outside, Dean made his mind up. He would divorce Lydia, and he would fight to be in the life of Ethan. Whatever, he would not let down the boy that he had come to regard as being his son.