Chapter 475
The heavy oak doors yielded to the estate staff, who took one look at my pale, determined face and stepped aside. I navigated the thick Persian carpets of the East Wing hallway, the painted eyes of past Marshall Alphas judging my every step.
When I reached the heavy double doors of Eleanor “Gigi” Marshall’s private suite, I didn’t knock. I pushed them open.
The luxurious room was in absolute chaos. A silver serving tray lay overturned on the floor, expensive roasted pheasant and spilled broth staining the priceless rug. The air was thick and suffocating.
Gigi sat on the edge of her massive four-poster bed, wrapped in a dark silk robe. The moment her piercing eyes locked onto mine, the tension in the room seemed to ease.
“Adella,” she breathed, her voice cracking. She stood and crossed the room to take my freezing hands in hers. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
“I thought you would turn me away,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Turn you away?” Gigi scoffed, her anger flaring. She marched to her nightstand and snatched up a paperback book. The cover featured a shirtless, brooding Alpha. She waved it in the air like a weapon. “I have been locked in this room, refusing food and boycotting the Elders’ Council because my grandson is acting exactly like the martyr idiot in The Alpha’s Agony!”
I blinked, completely thrown off balance. “A romance novel?”
“It’s a textbook on male stupidity,” Gigi snarled, tossing the book onto the mattress. “The Alpha in that story fakes a betrayal to push his Luna away because he thinks his enemies will kill her. Dallas is doing the exact same thing. He doesn’t hate you, Adella. He is protecting you in the most cruel, arrogant way possible. And I will starve in this room until he comes here and admits it.”
My heart gave a violent, painful stutter. Protecting me? The memory of his dead, storm-gray eyes during the Rejection flashed in my mind. Could it really be a lie? A tiny, treacherous seed of hope took root in my hollow chest.
“I’ll fight with you, Gigi,” I said, my spine straightening. “But you have to eat. We can’t win if you’re weak.”
Before she could agree, a sharp knock echoed through the suite. The doors swung open.
Elder Augusta Marshall stepped in, her face a mask of cold, bureaucratic efficiency. Right behind her was Yara, wearing a sleek black dress.
“Eleanor,” Augusta said stiffly, ignoring the mess on the floor. She turned her cold gaze to me and held out a thick, leather-bound document. “The Alpha King has finalized the Rejection Settlement. It includes a fifty-million-dollar trust and the deeds to three estates in the outer territories. Sign it, Adella, and this embarrassing chapter is legally closed.”
Yara watched from over Augusta’s shoulder, her expression carefully neutral. But for a split second, something flickered in her eyes — something that looked almost like hesitation.
I stared at the document. Dallas was trying to buy his conscience. He had destroyed my life, and now he wanted to pay me off like a discarded problem.