All Chapters of The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Third Person's POVHe had just showered, and his pajamas were freshly changed.There was no need to speculate about what had happened.Melanie's rational mind quickly filled in the blanks—Camille probably didn't trust her, so she had come over specifically to "check."He knew.And he had reassured Camille with his body.Melanie's wolf snarled with uncontrollable fury—the primal rage of seeing something that belonged to her being claimed by another. It recoiled from Archer's presence, driven by the instinct to drive away the 'intruder' carrying another woman's scent.But Melanie couldn't act on it. As much as she wanted to, pack law was absolute. No one could challenge—let alone expel—the Alpha.Archer had already settled beside the bed, a book in his hands.It seemed he truly intended to stay here tonight.That was somewhat unexpected for Melanie.…But, thinking it over, it made sense.Moira's "spies" were everywhere in this place. Staying here overnight was far safer than going stra

Melanie's POVHe didn't even look up. He simply murmured a faint, "Mhm."No questions. No attempt to stop me.His response landed like a pebble tossed onto empty ground—too indifferent to even leave an echo.Early the next morning, after dropping Trista off at school, I headed straight back to the office.Monica's birthday was coming up, but over the past month, work had completely consumed me, leaving no time to prepare a gift for her. At lunchtime, I called Gillian and asked if she could go shopping with me that evening. When I mentioned I needed help picking out a birthday present for my grandmother, she agreed without hesitation.I still hadn't sent Skye's invitation.I dialed her number. It rang, but no one answered.I wasn't surprised. Skye had never liked me—or rather, she disliked all of us Willis. Her ignoring the call was most likely intentional. Still, I had to at least make the effort.After the call disconnected o

Third Person's POVAfter he spoke, his eyes swept across the crowd before drifting toward the front row, carrying a trace of hesitation.It wasn't a challenge. It felt more like… confirmation.Camille finally drew her brows together, leaning closer as she murmured to Archer, "Maybe… we should just… let it go?"Fifty million had long since crossed the line of reason.The hall fell into complete silence, every pair of eyes locked on the quiet, commanding figure at the center of the front row."It's fine."Archer chuckled softly, his tone gentle—almost indulgent. "Didn't you say your grandmother liked it? Go ahead and bid."In that moment, the sweet orange scent of Camille's pheromones seemed to lift, an instinctive reaction, as if she were soothed by the Alpha's public approval.Without hesitation, she raised her paddle again, her voice crisp and assured."Sixty million."A barely perceptible stir ripple

Melanie's POVGillian and I froze at the same time.Two figures stood ahead, partially hidden by the beverage counter. They clearly hadn't noticed us.The other man chuckled."Sounds like you're quite taken with the sweet little thing standing next to Gillian. Why not go say hello?"Gillian's eyebrows shot up. She was already poised to drag me away.Evander shook his head."No.""What? Lost interest already?"Alpha Evander paused, as if weighing his thoughts."She's beautiful.But… too quiet. No bite to her."Gillian's fingers tightened abruptly.The other man laughed outright."And you said you weren't interested in Camille? That ice-queen type practically begs to be conquered."He lowered his voice conspiratorially."Besides, everyone in the circle knows—ever since she showed up, plenty of Alphas haven't been able to get her out of their heads. Shame she bel

Melanie's POVTrista's voice drifted up from downstairs, light and cheerful, like a young wolf cub that had only just learned to run.She scampered up the stairs, her footsteps pattering across the floorboards. Spotting the brocade box on the table, she leaned in curiously, gave it a sniff, and remarked in a tone so natural it bordered on careless ease, "Oh, those? Dad brought them back the other day. Said they were for you, Mom."I simply replied, "Mm."No explanation. No correction.I rolled the oil painting back up, placed it in its case, and tucked both lacquered boxes away, my movements steady and controlled.Then I took Trista's hand and led her outside.Trista wanted to go to the shooting range.So I took her.She held the custom-made miniature energy gun, her expression intent, her eyes bright with concentration. The moment her shot struck the bullseye, she spun toward me in delight, her tail practically wagging