Sold To The Alphas I Hate novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Where Is Your Child And Mate?

Liam’s POV

I arrived at the side house with Roman. I had hoped to find her in a better condition—there were questions I needed to ask her. But for that, I first had to send Roman away.

As we stepped into the house, Roman gestured toward the sofa. "Please wait here. I’ll check on her first."

He disappeared down the hall and returned a few minutes later. "You can come in. She’s awake."

I gave a short hum and followed him into the bedroom. She was sitting on the couch by the window in that small, quiet room. Dressed in nothing but a thin, oversized shirt that hung loosely over her frail frame, she had her legs folded tightly to her chest, staring blankly out the window.

She looked pitiful—but at least better than the day before. Maybe the shower had washed away some of the exhaustion.

"How are you, Eira?" I asked gently as I approached the couch and set my bag on the center table.

She turned to look at me. At least she acknowledged my presence. Her expression was calm—far too calm—and completely unreadable.

As expected, she didn’t answer.

Not taking it personally, I sat down at the other end of the couch, facing her. "I need to check your wounds," I told her and began without waiting for a response.

She unfolded her legs, silently allowing me to inspect the bruises and lacerations on her thighs. "Hmm, they’re healing. The swelling should be gone in a day or two." I didn’t bother checking the rest—if these were healing, the others would be as well.

Roman had clearly applied ointment to them already. At least he was taking care of her, or I had already lost hope in these five monsters.

I tended to her toes and wrapped them again with fresh bandages. "These will take a little longer to heal," I informed her, but she seemed indifferent, eyes still fixed on the window like the world outside held more meaning than anything I could say.

When I finished, I looked at Roman. "Has she eaten anything?"

"After that pancake, nothing," he said. "I tried, but she didn’t like anything else."

"Then just get her another pancake," I told him. "I’ll stay and chat with her while you’re gone. Keep her company."

Roman didn’t argue. He nodded once and turned to leave for the main house. No doubt, he’d ask Lucian to make it again—and that bastard would throw a tantrum before even touching a pan.

And this was my chance to ask what I’d come for.

"Eira," I called softly.

She looked at me, her gaze empty and distant.

"I want to ask you something important," I said.

As if my voice was just another burden, she turned her face back to the window, showing no interest in conversation. But I knew how to handle this. I was a doctor—I understood people, understood the quiet signals that most would overlook.

So I asked her directly, "Where is the child you gave birth to?"

That did it.

Her entire body stiffened, and she turned to face me again. The calm was gone from her eyes, replaced by a storm—shock, pain, and a flood of raw, buried emotion. I had hit the mark.

"I know you had a child," I continued gently. "I just want to know what happened."

Her eyes welled with tears, the pain in them held abyssal depth.

"I can understand what you’re feeling," I said, my voice soft with compassion. "But maybe I can help you. You need to open up, Eira. Tell me... where is your child?"

Her lips quivered. Then, finally, the tears spilled over. "They... took him away..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

I hadn’t expected her to answer so quickly. That child clearly meant the world to her. Of course he did—she was a mother. But what caught my attention even more was the faint flicker of hope in her gaze. As if somewhere deep inside, she still believed she could get him back.

And this was the chance to make her talk more, and I was going to use it.

"Where?" I asked quietly.

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