Rejected by the alpha, claimed by his brother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

89 The Things I Cannot TolerateArden's POVThe room still smelled like her.Cassandra's perfume lingered faintly, soft, floral, familiar, etched into the stale air of that abandoned chamber like a haunting. I stood there long after she slipped out with Diana, long after her footsteps faded into nothingness down the corridor, long after I ran out of excuses to remain in the place that had once tormented her.But I didn't move.My hands were still shakingNot from desire.Not from the ghost of her lips on mine.Not from the heat of her body pressed against me.From rage.Pure, undiluted fury.The kind that simmered under the skin, burning slow and vicious. The kind that made breathing feel like swallowing glass. The kind that made my vision blur at the edges and my heartbeat thrum with violence.I was furious at everything.At the king.At Richard.At Ivana.At the palace.At the suffocating politics of this country.At the damned, rotting court that fed on misery and pretended it was

Selene’s POVDamon didn’t speak.He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t react, not even when the reporter on the screen stumbled as another explosion of shouting erupted behind her. He watched with the stillness of a man who had suddenly discovered cracks forming in the ceiling above his head, each one widening, each one threatening collapse.His world, the one he clung to, the one he sacrificed me for, was splintering in real time.Then his phone vibrated sharply against the nightstand.Damon tore his gaze away from the television, glanced at the screen, and the tension in his face deepened into something colder. Harder.“Emergency meeting,” he muttered. “Court session. Now.”The resignation in his voice felt heavy.Familiar.Exhausting.I said nothing.What could I possibly say?He pushed himself to his feet, shoulders bowed beneath a weight no crown had ever prepared him to carry.He dragged a hand through his hair, an old habit I had almost forgotten he possessed, and for one brief

Selene's POVI walked back to my room slowly, every step heavy, as though grief itself had wrapped chains around my ankles. The palace corridors felt longer than usual, darker somehow, the walls echoing with the residue of Rachel's screams. Each footstep landed with a hollow thud, and my heart matched the rhythm, slow, anxious, waiting for news that refused to come.Inside my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall until the floral patterns in the wallpaper blurred into meaningless swirls. My hands rested limply in my lap. My mind felt suspended between dread and helplessness, both tightening around me like invisible cords.Time passed.Minutes. Hours.Enough for the sunlight to crawl across the floor, shifting from bright gold to a muted, fading amber. Enough for the weight in my chest to deepen until breathing required effort.Each second sharpened the fear inside me.A knock at my door jolted me upright, my pulse kicking painfully. For a moment, I simply stared at

Selene's POVMy throat tightened. My vision pulsed at the edges. For a moment, just one devastating moment, I felt fourteen again.Standing in a political banquet hall filled with my father's enemies.Every face turned toward me with contempt.Every voice whispering blame.Every accusation directed at my existence rather than my actions.But this time...I was not a girl.And I refused, absolutely refused, to fold.I lifted my chin, letting the weight of the cameras, the murmuring crowd, the sneering Queen settle like dust around me."You can spew whatever lies you like, Your Majesty," I said, voice steady as carved stone, "but we both know the truth."The courtyard stilled.Flashbulbs paused mid-burst.Even the guards stiffened.Ivana froze mid-sob, hand still dramatically pressed to her chest."You want to entertain the world?" I continued. "Fine. But let us not forget that you destroyed your son's marriage long before anyone else came into the picture."A crack split through her pe

CHAPTER 23Liana’s POVThe first thing I noticed was the cold.Not the room — the sheets. His side of them. I pressed my palm flat against the space beside me before I fully opened my eyes, the way you reach for something in the dark without thinking.Cold. Completely.I opened my eyes.Empty.I lay there for a moment looking at the ceiling. Listening. The house had a particular quality of silence at this hour — thick and undisturbed. No movement. No water running. No footsteps.I sat up.The note was on the pillow. Small. Folded once. My name on the outside in his handwriting — neat, controlled, exactly like him.I picked it up with the easy hands of someone who wasn’t worried yet. Maybe he had an early call. Maybe something with Alex. Maybe—Liana —Something came up. I had to leave.Take care of yourself.— MI read it once.Then I set it on the nightstand and got up to shower.Something came up. That was fine. Things came up. He was a busy man — calls, business, the investigation,