The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter
Chapter 250: Silent Helper

Chapter 250: Silent Helper

Jacob~

I watched from the shade of a birch tree just outside the hospital gates, the late morning sun cutting dappled patterns across the ground. Easter stepped out slowly, a small overnight bag slung across her shoulder and Rose curled sleepily in her arms. Rose clung to her mother with a quiet tenderness that made my chest clench.

Easter looked pale, but strong. Fragile, yet determined. And beneath all that, she was glowing. Not just because of the pregnancy but because she’d survived something no one else truly saw. I did. And I’d do anything to make her path smoother now.

I melted into the crowd, bending light around myself, stepping through space so closely behind her that if she turned too fast, I’d feel the breeze. But she didn’t. She never saw me.

A nurse noticed her struggling with her bag and offered a soft smile. "Let me help you with that."

Easter hesitated—she wasn’t used to kindness without condition anymore. She had started getting used to it with my siblings and I, but it was gone now. Side effect of wiping her memories—but finally nodded. The nurse gently took the bag from her shoulder and walked beside her, chatting lightly about the weather, about how strong Rose looked.

At the curb, a cab that hadn’t been there a second before rolled up as if summoned by fate. It wasn’t fate—it was me.

The driver leaned out the window. "Need a ride, miss? No charge today."

Easter blinked, surprised. "I—I don’t have any cash on me."

He waved it off. "Don’t worry. Someone upstairs must like you."

That someone was me.

As the car pulled away, I phased into the flow of shadows behind it. A warmth wrapped around her and Rose like a soft bubble—my doing. I didn’t want them cold or frightened. I wanted them safe.

She got home without trouble, but I wasn’t done.

I hovered just outside her house, invisible to the world, until she finally got Rose to nap on the couch and lowered herself into a chair with a sigh that shook her whole body. Her hand rested unconsciously on her stomach. She didn’t know I stood just across the room, invisible but very much present. I breathed in her scent, listened to the quiet rhythm of her thoughts, then left before I got too bold.

But I kept coming back. Every day. Every night. I watched from her rooftop. I trailed behind her in the market. I whispered to the winds when she reached for groceries she couldn’t afford—and watched someone nearby suddenly decide to cover her bill.

Three days passed like shadows slipping through my fingers. Quiet. Careful. Waiting.

And then, the moment came—the words that hit me like lightning striking bone:

"Let’s get some fresh air, my love. How does the park sound?"

That was it. The sign. The spark I needed.

That afternoon, as she stepped outside with Rose, wrapped in determination and the kind of quiet courage that breaks hearts, I was already ahead of them. I had laid the road like a spell. The street was unusually calm—no honking, no screeching tires, just peace.

The bus arrived early, just like I planned. Subtle manipulations. Nothing too flashy. Just enough.

She climbed aboard, Rose nestled on one hip, a modest bag in her hand. She looked beautiful and tired and invincible, all at once.

The driver gave her a soft smile, like she was sunrise bottled in human form.

"Sit anywhere," he said. "You’ve got an angel riding with you."

He didn’t know how right he was.

I was that angel—hidden in plain sight, cloaked in an enchantment that bent light and memory. I sat just one row behind them, close enough to act, far enough to stay invisible.

Around us, the charm pulsed gently in the air. The other passengers glanced past her, their gazes sliding away like water over glass. They smiled, but none could really see her. That was my doing—an old protection spell that blurred the edges of her presence, just enough to keep the world disinterested.

Rose, quiet and drowsy, watched clouds drift past the window like they were telling her secrets.

When the bus slammed into a pothole that made others jolt and curse, her row barely trembled.

When voices rose in argument at the back, the shouting muffled into a distant hum before it could reach her ears.

And when Easter reached up for the overhead rail and nearly lost her balance, the pole nudged itself forward—just in time to catch her.

That was me.

All of it.

The little things no one noticed. The accidents that never happened. The stumbles she didn’t take.

She never looked back. Never sensed me there.

But I was with her. Every step. Every breath.

When the bus rolled to a stop near the park’s edge, the driver turned to her with quiet warmth.

"Let me help you with your bag."

And as she hesitated, a stranger—kind-eyed, silver-haired—scooped up Rose and handed her over gently, like she was made of morning light.

"You’re not alone," the woman said with a smile that lingered. "Even when it feels like it."

Then she walked away.

I stood at the bus doors, cloaked in silence and shadow. My heart swelled and ached all at once.

Easter and Rose stepped off the bus and began their walk toward the trees, the dusty path stretching out like a story waiting to be written.

I whispered to the wind, just loud enough for the world to hear:

Keep her steady. Keep her safe.

The breeze stirred in answer, curling around them like a guardian spirit. I felt it—my magic carried in the air, woven into the leaves and the dirt and the roots beneath their feet.

And then I let go.

I dissolved into the wind, nothing but a breath in her orbit.

Because that’s who I was to her now.

Unseen.

But never far.

When the trees parted and she stepped into the open arms of the park, she paused. Looked around.

She didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown either.

She was okay.

She was standing. Breathing.

Alive.

And that was enough for me.

********

Rose’s laughter rang through the park, light and sweet, like music I hadn’t heard in years. Her tiny feet thudded over the cobbled path as she dashed toward the dragon slide, her curls bouncing with each step.

I watched her from a quiet distance, leaning casually against the climbing frame like any other parent might. But I wasn’t just watching. I was memorizing. Every movement. Every smile. Every laugh. The way the wind tugged gently at her dress. Gods, I loved that laugh.

And then, I turned my attention back to her.

Easter.

Her hair caught the light beautifully, and for a split second, the world slowed. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When our eyes met, my heart didn’t just skip—it slammed. Hard. Like it was trying to tear through my ribs just to get to her.

But she looked confused. Afraid. My heart cracked.

She didn’t know me.

Of course she didn’t.

I was the one who wiped her memories. For her safety. For Rose’s. For everyone’s. I had done what needed to be done. I had promised to protect her—even from me.

Still... it hurt. It cut deep every single time.

She looked away. And goodness help me, I almost turned and left right then. But something in me wouldn’t let go.

I started walking. Slowly. Not to scare her.

She stood up—too fast, like she wasn’t sure whether to run or stay.

"Hi," I said, voice steady even though everything inside me trembled.

She stared at me with that cautious look I knew too well. "Do I... know you?"

That hit like a blade. I had to lie. Had to pretend this was nothing more than a chance encounter. So I gave her a small smile and shook my head. "No. Sorry. I don’t think so. I just... saw your daughter. I think I’ve seen her before."

Her eyes narrowed a little, a flicker of suspicion. "At the kindergarten?"

I nodded, hoping she couldn’t hear how hard my heart was beating. "I was picking up a friend’s son last week. Your daughter—Rose, right?—she smiled at me like we knew each other. She even called me by a name. ’Daddy,’ I think."

Her face paled. I could see her trying to piece it together.

I kept my voice light. "Kids do that."

And I turned, ready to walk away. That had been enough. Just to be in her presence and let her see me. Just to hear her voice directed at me again.

But then—like a miracle—she stopped me.

"Would you... like to sit?"

My chest almost caved in. I hadn’t expected that. Not today. Not so soon.

She wanted me to stay.

I could barely find my voice. "I’d like that."

We sat together on the bench. So close. So far. The breeze carried the scent of summer leaves and her skin. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that until it hit me like a memory I didn’t know I’d lost.

We talked. About little things. Safe things. She made fun of how vague I was when I told her about my work, and I grinned like an idiot. She laughed, and I think a part of my soul that had been silent for years woke up again.

Her laughter... Oh, I would’ve died to hear that again and again and again.

And then came the moment that undid me completely.

Rose came running back, flung herself into my arms without a second thought, and said, "Daddy Jacob! You found us again!"

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t speak.

She remembered me. Somehow, deep down—she knew.

I held her gently, burying my face into her curls. "Hey, blossom," I whispered, the old name spilling from my lips like a secret finally freed. "Yeah. I found you."

Easter looked stunned. I saw it in her eyes. Saw her trying to make sense of the way her daughter clung to a stranger like he was home.

She said she needed to take Rose home, and I nodded. Of course. I would never push.

We walked together, slowly. Rose skipped ahead, unaware of the storm in our hearts.

Easter spoke softly, apologizing for Rose’s vivid imagination.

I wanted to say so many things. To explain everything. But all I managed was, "Imagination is often just memory in disguise."

She glanced at me, and there was a pause in her steps. Like something shifted. Like some buried instinct whispered that I wasn’t lying.

Then she asked me something I never thought I’d hear again.

"Would you like to meet again?"

I blinked.

The world stilled.

I stared at her, not even trying to hide the emotion in my eyes. I had spent weeks in the shadows, watching, waiting, keeping my distance. I had wiped my existence from her life for her.

And now... she was the one asking to see me again.

"I’d like that," I said, and I meant it more than I’d meant anything in my life.

As we parted ways, I stood there watching her and Rose disappear into the distance. My hands trembled slightly, but my heart was full.

She didn’t remember me.

But she saw me.

And for now... that was more than enough.