All Chapters of When My Alpha Finds I didn't Kill His Father: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Sunlight filtered through stained glass as Stella mopped the grand foyer in silence.She didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until the doors slammed open.Two guards entered, flanking Rebecca.Joseph followed, his shoulder bandaged, expression dark.“What's going on?” Stella asked, straightening.Rebecca lifted a velvet-lined box and flung it to the floor.Heirloom jewels spilled across the marble—rings, brooches, antique wolf-fang pendants.Rebecca pointed dramatically. “These were found under her mattress.”Gasps echoed. Servants gathered in doorways, eyes wide.Stella blinked. “That’s not possible.”“I had the attic searched,” Rebecca said. “Turns out thieves don’t change.”“I didn’t take anything,” Stella said, voice flat.“You expect us to believe that?” one guard scoffed. “After everything?”Joseph raised a hand. “Everyone, quiet.”He turned to Rebecca. “You searched her room without my consent?”“I was protecting you,” she said swee

Dawn crept slow and gray over Greenridge, casting a tired hush over the city’s outer district.Joseph stood in the technomancer’s wreckage—smoldering beams, melted glass, and the sickening scent of ash.One apprentice had survived, coughing soot in the alley behind the building.“She uploaded the data before it went up,” the girl rasped, pressing a shard of scorched metal into his hand. “Said to guard the cloud key with our lives.”Joseph nodded grimly. “You did good. Get her to a healer.”He opened the melted casing. Inside, a tiny crystal drive blinked red.Alive.He slipped it into his pocket.---Meanwhile, Stella walked alone through the old bakery district. Joseph had posted guards outside her room, but she’d needed air. Her shift at the temporary bakery had been quiet, but her name still lingered on the lips of strangers like a bad taste.She passed between two buildings—then froze.Three men stepped into her path. Unfamiliar. But their body lang

The beeping of machines was the first sound Stella heard.Then the sterile scent of antiseptic. A soft murmur. Rain tapping against glass.She opened her eyes.A nurse looked up from a chart. “Miss Hart? Can you hear me?”Stella blinked. “Where…?”“You’re in Greenridge Memorial. You’ve been unconscious for two days. Don’t move too fast.”“Why am I here?”The nurse hesitated. “You had an accident. Fell into Moonstone Lake.”“I don’t remember that,” Stella murmured.“What do you remember?”Stella frowned. “A piano. A woman with white hair. Someone… yelling. Then nothing.”---Outside the ICU glass wall, Joseph watched.He heard every word.His hands clenched at his sides as the doctor confirmed it: retrograde amnesia. Likely trauma-induced. Unclear how much would return—or when.Victoria stood beside him, guilt hollowing her expression.“She doesn’t remember the trial,” the doctor said. “Or prison. Or her work in the estate.”Joseph nodd

Joseph stood outside the seaside clinic just after sunrise, the sky blushing with faint gold.He held a sealed envelope, thick with documents.Inside: Stella’s full exoneration papers, a bank draft returning her withheld wages—with interest—and a one-way ticket to anywhere she chose.He didn’t ask for a meeting.Didn’t knock on her door.Just handed the packet to the nurse at the reception desk.“She’ll ask who sent it,” the nurse said.“Tell her a friend. No name.”He turned before the nurse could respond, disappearing into the mist.---Inside, Stella blinked as the nurse entered her room.“This came for you.”She took the packet warily. Slid it open.Her hands stilled over the first sheet—an official pardon, stamped by the council.Then another—a check. Her name, in bold. An amount she never dreamed of.And beneath it all, a ticket.Destination: open.Departure: anytime.She staggered back, sitting hard on the edge of the bed.

Years passed.The coastal town where Stella settled bloomed with color—sea wind, open skies, and quiet rhythms that never asked about the past.She opened a small music school tucked between a bookstore and a florist. The windows were always full of light. Laughter echoed from inside as children learned to play scales with sticky fingers and nervous grins.Mischa, the orphan pup she adopted from the rehab center, now ran barefoot through the halls, laughing as he slammed piano keys with innocent chaos.And every evening, Stella sat by the window with a cup of tea, humming melodies that had no name.---She still didn’t remember everything.Fragments drifted in and out—a cracked teacup, a swing in a courtyard, a man's voice calling her name in the rain.But the weight of that old pain had lifted.And even in absence, some part of her had healed.---During a spring recital, her students performed pieces they’d written themselves.Afterward, parents ap