Chapter 4

Melanie's POV

I hesitated for a moment, then answered the call.

Shannon's voice came through the phone, low and slightly cautious. "Luna Melanie, Alpha Archer came back yesterday. I gave him the envelope just as you asked."

"Did he come back late?"

"Yes, after nine in the evening." Her tone was careful, as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Oh?" A thought I couldn't ignore surfaced in my mind. "They must have had a great time."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Did he look at what was inside the envelope?"

Shannon seemed to hesitate slightly before answering carefully, "Well... I didn't see him open it, but I know the envelope was opened."

She continued, "After he got to the room, Alpha Archer took a call from Camille, and then he left. He didn't come back last night. When I cleaned the room this morning, I saw the envelope by the bed, so I assume he read it."

My heart plummeted. The sudden rush of disappointment was nearly suffocating.

I fought hard not to let any emotion show. "Did he say anything about it?"

Shannon paused again, then continued, "No. He just took the envelope and went upstairs."

I gave a short, quiet laugh, though my heart was filled with bitterness.

"Well, he must have had some kind of reaction after reading the petition, right?"

"But maybe he just didn't care at all."

"After all, he never truly cared about me, did he?"

I quickly moved on. "How is Trista feeling?"

This was now the question I asked most often, even though I knew I no longer had the right to worry about her.

Shannon was silent for a moment, weighing her words, then finally spoke. "When she first got back, Trista seemed a little down. She asked Alpha Archer what would happen if you insisted on coming out with them."

She paused, her voice dropping lower. "But Alpha Archer said with absolute certainty that he wouldn't let you join them."

In that moment, it felt like something heavy had struck my chest.

Shannon continued, "Luna Melanie, please don't be sad. Trista still misses you. She was a bit upset when she realized you had left, and she said she wished you would sleep in her room tonight."

"I see." I spoke softly, trying to suppress the ache. "What about this morning? Did she realize I didn't call her?"

Shannon's tone became even more cautious. "She did. After breakfast, Trista wanted to leave. I told her it was still early and she could leave later. She said, 'It's nice that Mom didn't call on time today. If I don't leave now, she'll call later, and I'll be forced to talk to her again.'"

After that, Shannon fell silent.

That single sentence cut through my heart like a knife. Trista's change broke my spirit.

I had worked so hard to maintain contact with her, believing I was her only constant, but she no longer needed me.

All my devotion, all my persistence, seemed to have been in vain.

"She doesn't need me anymore," I whispered to Frost in my mind, feeling the numbing pain spread through my chest.

"Are you still reluctant to let go?" Frost's voice echoed gently in my mind.

"No. I think I really need to leave him." My answer was unwavering.

"Then let it go," Frost said, her tone carrying a sense of relief. She, too, seemed to feel free.

I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and set it down.

With a bitter laugh, I deleted my alarms, turned off all my reminders, and lay back down in bed.

There was nothing left to look forward to.

Whenever I thought back on all the effort I put into Archer, my heart still stung, but this time, I didn't try to comfort myself.

The next morning at the company, I handed my resignation to Herbert, one of Archer's personal assistants and the beta from the Razor Pack.

He looked visibly surprised when he saw the letter.

There was a moment of searching in his eyes before he returned to his professional demeanor.

Herbert maintained the calm attitude expected of a beta. He just nodded and said, "I've received your resignation. I'll arrange for someone to take over your duties as soon as possible."

"Okay." I nodded and returned to my desk.

Even though I had decided to let go of the relationship, my life still had to go on.

For the next few days, I continued to come to work on time, organizing my files and preparing for the handover.

One lunchtime, a coworker lightly tapped my shoulder. "Aren't you calling your daughter today?"

I smiled and shook my head, my voice tired. "Nah, not today."

I usually called Trista twice a day, once in the early morning and once around noon.

Everyone in the office knew this.

What they didn't know was that for the better part of a year, the calls had been one-sided, and she only responded out of obligation.

Since coming back to Los Angeles, I hadn't initiated contact with Trista or Archer.

Of course, they hadn't contacted me either.

It seemed I had finally let go of all that persistence.