The Triplet Alphas' Forbidden Temptation

The man’s words were strange, and the familiarity with which he spoke about her mother only strengthened Yuki’s suspicion that this man had known her personally. There was no other explanation for the way he spoke about her, as though she had been more than just a name he had heard in passing.

The man seemed to notice the thoughts racing through her mind. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. ”I am not your father’s ghost,” he said firmly, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. ”Besides, my daughter wouldn’t be as dumb as you.”

Yuki’s lips twitched despite herself. There it was again. This man was truly annoying.

”What do you mean, dumb?” she demanded defensively, folding her arms across her chest. ”My grades are good.”

He snorted dismissively. ”But you aren’t the best. Marie is the best.” He paused, then added, ”But your intelligence does indeed come from your father’s inferior genes.”

Yuki’s mouth fell open. For several seconds, she could only stare at him. How much did this man know? The stranger immediately caught the thought. He shook his head slowly, amusement flickering in his purple eyes.

”If I can read your thoughts, do you really think I cannot know everything about you?” he asked calmly, his voice carrying the patient certainty of someone explaining something obvious.

Yuki’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He turned back towards the counter and picked up another pastry, continuing his work with the same peaceful concentration he had maintained throughout their conversation.

”I know you spent most of your life with your foster mother, Lydia,” he began casually, his voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. ”I know your sister, Aevia, spent years travelling from place to place trying to earn enough money to support you both. I know you were mated to three obnoxious jerks instead of one, which is frankly excessive even by supernatural standards.”

Yuki stared at him in disbelief. The man glanced at her.

”Do not look at me like that,” he added dryly. ”They are obnoxious jerks.”

Yuki’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He was right, though. He continued before she could find any.

”I know you chose medicine despite not possessing natural healing abilities because you knew becoming a surgeon would give you the financial stability to build a good life,” he explained, his voice quieter now. ”More importantly, you knew it would mean Aevia wouldn’t have to keep leaving you behind to earn money.”

Yuki froze. Her fingers slowly loosened from around the edge of the counter. How did he know that? She had never told anyone the real reason behind her decision. Not even Aevia knew the full extent of how much Yuki had thought about her sister’s sacrifices when choosing her future. Yet this stranger stood before her, casually reciting pieces of her life that she had never shared.

”I also know you fell in love with Kieran the first time you saw him,” he continued, his tone suddenly more knowing.

Yuki blinked. The man finally looked at her.

”It happened during your freshman orientation when he gave that address,” he said, his voice calm and certain. ”It wasn’t merely a crush, Yuki. By now, you should have realised that. You knew the moment you saw him. That feeling of meeting someone and somehow recognising them before you even knew their name.”

Yuki stared at him.

”The bond only proved what you already felt,” he added quietly.

A startled laugh escaped her.

”You’re saying we were meant for each other?” she asked incredulously, her voice rising with disbelief. ”We rejected the bond. He rejected me, and I rejected him. I want nothing to do with those men anymore. They have Eloise.”

The last words came out sharper than she intended. The stranger’s smile didn’t disappear. Instead, he gave her a patient look, the sort someone might give a stubborn child who had just insisted that the sky was green.

”Some things cannot be explained so easily,” he replied patiently.

Yuki’s eyes narrowed.

”It is over,” she insisted firmly. ”I am never having anything to do with them again.”

She slammed her palm against the counter. The pastries on the tray jumped slightly. The man studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded.

”Sit down, Yuki,” he instructed, his tone calm but authoritative.

It wasn’t a request. Something in his voice made Yuki respond before her mind could argue. She slowly lowered herself back onto the stool. The man picked up the bowl of mangoes and placed it in front of her again.

”And don’t waste those,” he added, his voice gentler.

Yuki looked down at the fruit.

”Remember how much you loved them when Auntie Lydia’s brother visited with fresh ones from the south?” he continued softly. ”They always saved the biggest mango for you, even though you weren’t their blood.”

Yuki’s fingers curled slowly against her thigh.

”You loved those mangoes because they were sweeter than the imported ones from the supermarket,” he added, his tone almost nostalgic.

Her eyes slowly lifted. The man was watching her now. Yuki stared at him, completely astonished. How could he possibly know that? The memory was so insignificant, so buried beneath years of other memories that she had never imagined anyone else would remember it.

”How do you know so much?” she whispered, her voice trembling with confusion.

Something changed in his expression. The amusement disappeared. His smile remained, but it was no longer playful. It carried a sadness Yuki couldn’t understand, a quiet regret that seemed to come from somewhere much deeper than their conversation.

”I have been watching you for years, Yuki,” he admitted softly.

Yuki’s breath caught.

”Then why haven’t you ever appeared before me?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.

The man looked away. For the first time since she had entered the kitchen, he seemed uncomfortable. Yuki’s stomach tightened. Were they related? Was that why he reminded her of Aevia? Was that strange familiarity she had felt when she first saw him something more than coincidence?

”I couldn’t appear before you,” he answered heavily, his voice suddenly weighed down by something she couldn’t identify.