Bella’s POV

Panic surged through me as I spun around, clutching my robe desperately against my body. The silk material felt flimsy under my trembling fingers.

He definitely saw everything. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear.

"God, I’m sorry," Hugo’s voice came from behind me, thick with mortification.

When I finally gathered the courage to glance back, he had turned away completely, his hand raking through his dark hair in obvious distress.

"I swear I didn’t see anything. Wait, no, that’s not what I meant. I did see, but I wasn’t looking," he stumbled over his words, making the situation infinitely worse.

What was he even trying to say? That he wasn’t making promises about what he saw?

"It’s fine. I had undergarments on anyway," I lied smoothly, frantically securing the robe’s belt.

"Sure you did," he shot back, skepticism dripping from his voice.

So much for trying to save face. He clearly wasn’t buying my attempt to minimize the situation, and honestly, why should he help me feel better about it?

I clicked my tongue in frustration and smacked my palm against my forehead. How could I have forgotten that we’d exchanged room keys? With the kids still recovering, we’d agreed on emergency access in case I needed his help quickly.

"I’m decent now," I announced, and he slowly turned back around.

My gaze immediately dropped to his pants, where an unmistakable bulge strained against the fabric. Heat flooded my face as I quickly looked away.

"Are you kidding me right now, Hugo?" I snapped, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

From my peripheral vision, I watched him glance down and hastily cover himself with his hands.

"It’s not what it looks like. This is completely normal. I just don’t have any boxers on," he blurted out, his excuse so ridiculous I almost laughed.

I remembered how terrible he’d always been at lying, especially when caught off guard. A smile tugged at my lips before I caught myself and let it fade, especially when I noticed him watching my reaction.

"Right. So you wanted to discuss the illness," I said, clearing my throat and moving to the suite’s central table.

The penthouse offered a stunning view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows, but I couldn’t focus on the scenery.

Hugo approached cautiously and settled into the opposite chair, placing a manila folder between us.

He flipped it open, revealing pages of handwritten testimonies from parents whose children had been affected by the mysterious sickness.

"The list keeps growing, Bella. We’re looking at an epidemic," he said grimly, his pen drumming against the papers.

"I can see that. Is this why you came to see me?" I asked, wondering if he simply needed someone to share the burden with.

"Not exactly," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck before pointing to a specific statement. "This testimony from one of the kids really bothered me. The child described being led into the forest, lifted onto a swing, and pushed by someone tall whose face remained hidden."

A chill ran down my spine as he continued.

"It triggered a memory from my own childhood, Bella. The exact same dream, down to every detail. The mysterious figure, the swing, the purple autumn leaves surrounding everything." He paused, his eyes meeting mine. "Identical in every way. And you want to know who else described this exact scenario?"

My heart sank because I already knew the answer.

"Zack," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"My son, yes," he confirmed quietly.

We sat in heavy silence, both processing the implications of what he’d just revealed.

"I think I should get some sleep," he said abruptly, closing the folder with careful precision.

His movements were slow and deliberate, like someone who had reached the end of their rope. He braced his hands on the table and pushed himself up, his exhaustion evident in every gesture.

I watched him intently, noting the defeated slope of his shoulders.

He gathered the folder and looked at me one final time, his expression a mixture of sorrow and yearning.

In that moment, I sensed he didn’t want to return to his empty room. There was something in his posture that suggested he hoped I might ask him to stay.

But I remained silent.

He began walking toward the door, his footsteps heavy and reluctant. Multiple times he glanced back, offering small nods as if to say goodbye, but each pause felt like he was giving me another chance to stop him.

I didn’t take it.

I knew exactly what was happening. I’d been down this road with him before, recognizing all the signs of his loneliness and need for comfort. I understood why he looked so worn down and melancholy.

But this time, I refused to be his emotional caretaker. All those previous occasions when I’d taken care of him had left me feeling drained and unappreciated.

So I let him walk out.

Guilt gnawed at me briefly after the door closed, but I quickly reminded myself of all the times he hadn’t been there for me when I needed support.

The next morning, I woke early to prepare for our expedition to the woods with the children. They were thrilled, convinced we were planning some sort of outdoor adventure.

I decided not to correct their assumption. The truth would only frighten them unnecessarily.

Hugo drove our group while Alpha Jack followed in his separate vehicle.

"He didn’t need to tag along," Hugo grumbled, clearly irritated that I wasn’t engaging with his complaints.

"I don’t mind him joining us. It’s his territory, after all," I replied evenly.

"Did you specifically invite him?" he pressed, causing me to roll my eyes and turn toward the window, avoiding his probing stare.

When we finally reached our destination, I lifted Tara into my arms while Leah and Zack walked hand in hand, chattering excitedly as we entered the forest.

For some reason, Tara seemed unusually nervous, clinging tighter to me than usual.

We guided the children directly to the tree with the distinctive purple autumn foliage. When I saw it, I couldn’t suppress my sharp intake of breath.

Both Alpha Jack and Hugo immediately turned to look at me with concern.

The tree remained as magnificent as I remembered, still holding countless precious memories. But something fundamental had changed.

It was dying from the crown downward rather than from the roots up, creating an unnaturally ominous atmosphere.

"I’ve dreamed about this tree," Zack murmured softly.

My heart sank further as my children confirmed our worst fears, rushing toward the ancient tree and examining the weathered swing hanging beneath its branches. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The very same swing that had appeared in both Hugo’s and Zack’s dreams.