All Chapters of The President's Mate: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Eleanor PovI had to hold it together. Again. Like I always did.Just like I did the night of the inauguration, when the cameras caught every blink, every breath. Just like at the gala, when he approached Devon while my spine ached from the heels I wore too long for the image we curated. Composure had become my armour. My weapon. My curse.I swallowed hard and smoothed the lapel of my tailored navy suit, fingers trembling only slightly before I tucked them away behind that polished exterior. God, this suit. It had been hand-stitched for today's custom silk lining, sharp, feminine silhouette, the colour of midnight thunder. It gave the illusion of control, power, and poise.But no fabric, no tailoring, could prepare me for what stood before me.Jim Halvorsen.My history. My mistake. My nemesis.He stood tall, smug in that politician’s way of smiling without showing teeth. Still the same arrogant tilt to his chin. The same calculating blue eyes. I hated that I could still feel the echo

Jimmie’s POVThe ride back home with Eleanor was beyond awkward.It was suffocating, like being trapped in a velvet coffin. The air between us was thick, silent, weighted, stretched taut over the tension neither of us dared to acknowledge. She sat by the window, her eyes distant, her posture regal yet withdrawn. I sat beside her, hands clasped tightly in my lap, pretending the silence was comfortable when it was anything but.I had complimented her speech earlier, telling her it was beautifully delivered and heartfelt. And it was— even though I was occupied with my thoughts and that shewolf, Nadia, during most of her speech. She’d stood on that stage in front of thousands and held them captive with her words. A symbol of strength, grace, and purpose. But she hadn’t responded. Not even a nod. Just that same quiet, that unreadable expression on her face, like she was a million miles away.I didn’t press. Maybe she needed space. She didn’t owe me anything, not an explanation, not a smile

Devon POV Another year.Another damn year built on lies.I stared out the limo window as the world passed in a blur of gold-lit buildings and silent ghosts. Franco sat across from me, but neither of us spoke for a while. He didn’t need to. His earlier reminder, the one he threw like a dart cloaked in soft concern, had already done enough damage.Anniversary night.Eleanor and I.My secretary had mentioned it casually this morning. Too casually. She didn’t know what it meant to me to my wolf. Franco had brought it up again just minutes ago, reminding me that I couldn’t avoid this night. That I shouldn’t.And he was right.She didn’t deserve the cold shoulder.She didn’t ask for this... for the lie I turned into her life.I closed my eyes.The weight pressed hard on my chest.I had to make it right. Or at least, make it decent. For her. For the mother of two beautiful children.So, I asked Franco to call ahead. Told him to make sure the staff prepared something special: candles, soft l

Jimmie’s POV It was the ache that woke me up first.Not the hangover, not the guilt just the physical, sinking kind of ache in the gut that tells you before your brain can catch up: you fucked up.I rolled onto my back, and there he was.Karl.His body was sprawled across the bed like a lion after a feast—my feast. Golden skin, toned arms, a trail of ink across his ribs, I used to trace like scripture. Naked. And smug, even in sleep.I sat up slowly. Sheets are sticking to my skin.The scent of sweat and stale lust hung in the air like bad perfume.God.What the hell did I do?My stomach turned as fragments of the night before rolled in like dirty waves.My hands in his hair.His tongue on my chest.He whispered, “You still feel like home”, while I tried to pretend it was Devon pressing into me, Devon kissing me like I mattered, Devon holding me like I wasn’t disposable.But it wasn’t him. It was Karl.Karl, the man who’d lied. Cheated. Left me when I wanted more—my ex.And now here

Eleanor PovThe room was quiet.Too quiet.I stood by the doorframe of the sitting room now, my palm pressed flat against the cool, polished wood as if it were the only thing keeping me upright. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My entire world, the one I had so carefully manicured over the years, had just crumbled beneath my feet. And the dust was still settling.Werewolves.Devon.It can’t be.But it is. God help me, it is. And the worst part? Deep down… I already knew.The signs had been there. The unnatural mood swings. The way his body would twitch in sleep, his mouth curled in a soft snarl. Sometimes, he’d make guttural noises low, barely audible, but enough to wake me up and send a chill down my spine. I used to tell myself it was stress. Bad dreams. Pressure from work. But that was a lie—a convenient one.I’d chosen not to look too closely because looking meant knowing.And knowing meant breaking.Now here I was, shattered in places I hadn’t even known existed.“Elly.” Jim’s