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Chapter 7: Strawberry 

Auteur: Adelina Beston
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2026-03-10 13:14:39

Elara's POV

The first hint of gray light touched the kitchen window. The room was cold.

I pushed myself off the edge of the bed. My body felt heavy. I had to maintain the illusion of routine. Rhys needed to believe I was only leaving for a normal, temporary outing, not a permanent desertion. If he suspected anything, he would seal the house.

My final duty was breakfast.

I moved to the kitchen. The marble countertops were cold. I made coffee, sliced bread, and put toast in the toaster. The mechanical actions kept my hands steady and my mind focused on the timetable.

I was arranging the toast when the first person came downstairs.

It was Seraphina’s son, Elias.

I felt nothing for him. He was a child, an innocent consequence of Rhys’s true affections. He rubbed his eyes, still sleepy.

“Morning, Luna Elara,” Elias said.

“Good morning,” I replied calmly, pointing to the counter. “Help yourself to some toast. What kind of jam do you like?”

He pointed to a jar near the coffee maker. “Strawberry, please.”

I spread the jam evenly on a slice of toast and handed it to him. He accepted it, eyes wide, and took a huge bite.

“Thank you, Luna,” he mumbled, satisfied. The brief moment of domesticity ended.

The stairs creaked. Rhys entered the kitchen, not alone.

He was holding Seraphina’s hand. She was guiding Jaxon. They looked like a single, unified front, radiating the warmth and intimacy I had never been part of.

Rhys stopped when he saw Elias. His severe expression softened instantly into a rare, gentle smile—the one reserved only for Seraphina’s son.

I was reaching for the knife, preparing to step back. Elias took a second bite of the strawberry jam toast.

Rhys’s gentle expression snapped to absolute, immediate rage. There was no transition.

He didn't speak a warning. He moved.

Rhys launched across the kitchen floor. He grabbed the strawberry jam jar from my hand. He slammed it down on the marble counter. The glass shattered violently, sending red preserves and sharp pieces everywhere.

“What the hell are you doing?!” His voice was a primal Alpha roar.

I froze, staring at the mess. My hand stung where he’d snatched the jar away.

Seraphina screamed. “My baby! Elara, what did you do?!” She pulled Elias away. “Rhys, she knows! She knows he’s severely allergic! She was trying to kill him!”

Allergic? My mind stalled. I was never informed of his life details.

Rhys’s eyes were black and venomous. He instantly accepted the accusation. “You twisted, pathetic bitch! You hate her so much you’d go after a child?!”

I tried to defend myself. “He asked for it! I didn't know! I wouldn't hurt a child!”

My words were useless. Nobody listened.

Jaxon was the one who reacted physically. He lunged at me, his face a mask of furious betrayal. He shoved me hard in the back.

The force of my son's attack sent me sprawling. I hit the tiled floor, my ribs cracking against the hard surface. I lay there, gasping, surrounded by glass shards and sticky jam.

Rhys acted fast. He scooped Elias into his arms, his focus absolute. “I’m taking him to the clinic now!” Rhys yelled, pivoting toward the main door.

He didn't look down. He didn't check his path. As he stepped over my body, his heavy Alpha boot came down squarely on my outstretched hand, the one I had used to break my fall.

A blinding, agonizing bolt of pain electrocuted my entire arm. 

Rhys didn't stop. He didn't flinch. He just kept walking, carrying Seraphina’s son. Seraphina followed immediately.

Jaxon was the last one left. He stood over me, his face twisted in utter disgust.

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out—the tarnished silver locket I had placed under his pillow hours ago. He raised his arm and slammed the piece of metal onto my chest. It bounced off my collarbone and clattered on the tile next to my broken hand.

“I don’t want your gift!” Jaxon screamed, his voice shaking with pure hatred. “Keep your hag-gifts! I hate you!” He stood there, looking down at me, the epitome of the child I had sacrificed everything for. He did not regret the shove that put me on the floor.

He spat the final word at me: “Hag.” Then he turned and followed his father and Seraphina out the door.

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