Chapter 3

Not because my mind understood it.

But because my soul recognized him.

My partner.

The world seemed to tilt.

I took a step toward him without realizing it, my breath coming in short gasps, my heart pounding in my ribs as if it wanted to escape.

"Ronan..."I whispered.

He tensed up.

His eyes fixed on me, first confused, then dark. The woman accompanying him stopped behind him, watching me with disdain.

Ronan took a step forward.

Then another one.

Too fast.

His hand closed around my throat and pushed me against the wall with a force that took my breath away. The cold marble pierced my back.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" he roared.

I tried to speak. I couldn't. His fingers were squeezing just enough to suffocate me without killing me.

He smelled me.

Once.

Two.

Her body tensed even more.

Something about him knew something was off. I saw it in his expression. In the brief flash of confusion that crossed his eyes.

But alcohol won.

"You're a nobody," he spat." A whore without a pack."

The woman behind him smiled.

My tears burned my eyes.

"I..."I managed to say." I didn't mean to..."

He let go of me suddenly.

"Out," he ordered.

The command cracked through my mind like a whip. the force of the Alpha command pierced my body, forcing me to move even against my will.

"Get out of here before I send someone to remove you."

I stumbled around, my heart breaking, my body obeying a command I couldn't resist. I grabbed my clothes and dressed as best I could, my hands clumsy, never taking my eyes off my son.

He shifted, uneasy.

"It's okay, sweetheart..," I whispered, picking him up in my arms.

When I went downstairs, the pain arrived.

Not physical.

It was something deeper. More cruel.

A sharp, unbearable stab in my chest doubled me over. I clung to the railing, gasping, my body trembling.

I felt it.

Ronan was with her.

My partner.

With another woman.

I screamed involuntarily. A muffled sound that no one heard.

I left the house in the rain, hugging my son to my chest, aimless, weak, empty.

He had arrived seeking help.

And he had encountered the most absolute rejection.

The rain soaked me to the bone.

I don't remember how long I walked. I only know that my legs moved on their own, propelled by a force that didn't come from my body, but from fear. I pressed my son to my chest, protecting him with my own coat, murmuring words that even I didn't believe.

"It's over... it's done... Mom's here..."

Every step hurt. The cold bit. The night seemed endless.

When I recognized the street, my heart stuttered. The lampposts. The hedge. The facade that had been my home. Everything was the same. I wasn't.

I stopped in front of the house, soaked, shivering. For a second I hesitated. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to go back there. But I had no choice.

I walked silently around the house and looked up at my sister's window. The light was off. I tapped gently on the glass. Once. Twice.

A lamp was turned on.

Celia appeared on the other side, disheveled, her eyes still sleepy. When she saw me, she froze. Then, she flung open the window.

"Elara..," he whispered, his voice breaking.

She handed me the bag first. Then she carefully took my son so I could go in. As soon as I stepped into the room, my strength left me.

"I've missed you so much..." she sobbed, hugging me.

I cried too. Silently. My body curled up, as if I were still waiting for another blow.

"You're freezing..," he murmured." And you're very thin."

"I'm fine," I lied.

I wasn't.

We sat on the bed. My son was asleep in Celia's arms, oblivious to the world that had expelled us. For a few minutes we didn't speak. There was no need. Sisters don't always need words.

My son's crying broke the silence.

"Water," I whispered." I need water for the bottle."

Celia nodded and carefully opened the door. The crying intensified. I tried to calm him down, but it was too late.

The footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The door burst open.

My father.

His gaze met mine instantly. A low growl vibrated in his chest.

I jumped up, shielding my son with my body. Celia stepped between us, trembling.

"Dad, please..," she begged.

He effortlessly pushed her aside and moved toward me.

"Get out," he said," I told you not to come back."

"Please," I pleaded." It's raining. It's only one night."

He grabbed my hair.

The pain was immediate. My son cried loudly and I felt panic tearing me apart inside.

"Mom!" Celia shouted.

She appeared running, her face contorted.

"Gideon Whitcombe, please... he has a baby..."

"That woman isn't my daughter," he roared.

"Then take the child," I said desperately." I'll stay outside. But don't throw him out."

There was silence.

My father looked at the baby. Just for a second. Just enough time for my mother to take advantage and pick him up.

"I'll stay with him," she said, crying." I'll be by the window."

The door closed.

I was left out.

I sat on the porch, soaked, my body curled up and my hands trembling. From there I could see my mother giving me the bottle, Celia watching us with tears in her eyes.

My son was safe.

I don't.

I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn't know how much longer I could hold out.

But one thing was certain:

I wasn't going to give up.

My mother puts him to sleep and makes a makeshift crib on the sofa. Finally, I fall asleep too, my head resting against the brick ledge under the window.

As the sun begins to rise, I quickly move away, put on my wet clothes, and do my best to dry them, trying to remove as much water as possible. The moment I put on the last wet garment, the front door opens and my father comes out of the house. I look at him from the ground near the window, where I've been crouching. He doesn't even look at me. Instead, he throws me money wrapped in a rubber band.

"Father, I want you to leave before I get home. Never come back, Elara," he says before heading to his car, without even looking at me. I approach, pick up the money, and leave.

Even though it breaks my heart—he doesn't even want to acknowledge me—I still love this man. He's my father, and it hurts so much that he treats me like trash. It hurts so much, and it makes me realize that, in the end, I'm just trash to everyone.

The door opens and my mother peeks her head out to see if he has left before letting me inside.

My sister comes running up with a backpack and dry clothes. She gives me a towel, I dry off, and put on the jeans, shirt, and hoodie she brought me.

"Here, put these on," she says, handing me a pair of Northstar sneakers. I put on my socks before slipping on the sneakers. My mother continues to hug my son as if she doesn't want to let go.

"I've called a taxi to pick you up," my mother tells me as Celia hands me a bag.

"Clothes, toiletries, feminine products, girly things. I also put all the money from the safe in there," my sister says, and I swallow hard.

"Celia, I can't stand it."

"You could do it. Anyway, I can't go to university now. Dad's going to make me repeat the year next year."

"I've ruined not only my own life, but my sister's too. Now she's forced to be the alpha. Celia wanted to go to university to study science, while I was still unsure what I wanted to do. She's very intelligent, and I've ruined her plans by getting pregnant. However, Celia doesn't seem affected; she's simply accepted it."

"Here you go. Here's my old phone too, along with the charger. I'll make sure to recharge it for a few minutes each month so you can keep in touch with me."