All Chapters of Reborn & Became The Alpha's Obsession: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

꧁ LYRA'S POVGrace found me in the estate's small records room three days after I'd handed her the name, a windowless space tucked behind the main library that smelled of dust and old ink, stacked with ledgers most people at Greyson territory had probably forgotten existed."Whitfield and Cross," she said, dropping a thin folder on the table between us. "Took some digging. They don't advertise, don't maintain much of a public footprint, but pack business filings don't lie the way people do.""What did you find?""They handled a handful of contracts here, years back. Minor stuff, mostly — property transfers, some licensing paperwork for a hunting lodge on the northern border." She flipped the folder open, tapping a page near the bottom. "But one entry stood out. A retainer, paid through an account linked to Marcus's household. Small amount, easy to miss if you weren't already looking for the name.""Marcus," I repeated."Not directly, necessarily. Could be a staff member, an associate,

꧁ JAXON'S POVI hadn't slept properly since the conversation in the guest wing, Aurelia's four calm words ran in a loop in my head at odd hours — I have other ways — until the phrase had worn a groove I couldn't stop tracing.It was the small things that finally pulled me out of my own head. A new face in the servants' hall near the kitchens, an Omega I didn't recognize, moving like someone who hadn't quite learned yet which corridors he was supposed to use and which he wasn't. I noticed him twice in one afternoon, once near the east courtyard where Lyra took her morning tea, once again lingering near the private wing.Alone, it meant nothing. Estates this size turned over staff constantly, new hires shuffled through training rotations nobody outside management tracked closely. I told myself that, twice, and didn't believe myself either time.I found Marta in the main kitchen that evening, the same easy source of household gossip Aurelia had used weeks earlier without my noticing, and

꧁ LYRA'S POVThe pavilion had been dressed simply for the mediation day, long tables set beneath white canopies that snapped gently in the morning breeze, the kind of practical, unglamorous setup Fiona had insisted worked better than anything ornate. "People don't trust decisions made under chandeliers," she'd told me the week before, arranging folding chairs with brisk efficiency. "They trust decisions made at a table they could've sat at themselves."She'd been right. I understood that fully now, standing at the head of the first table as the morning's line of pack members began forming, some clutching folded papers, others simply waiting with the particular tension of people who'd carried a grievance too long without anywhere proper to set it down.The first dispute was small — two Beta families arguing over a shared property line that had apparently caused friction for three generations, each side certain of their claim, neither willing to be the one who backed down first. I liste

꧁ AURELIA'S POVI didn't sleep. By morning I'd stopped shaking, at least on the surface, and by the time I sat down at my dressing table to fix my face into something presentable, I'd already decided the only way forward was the same way I'd handled everything else — precisely, quietly, one careful adjustment at a time.Whitmore wanted results. Fine. I'd give him results. But before I touched anything as dangerous as a forged confession, I needed to clear the board of anyone close enough to notice me doing it.Jaxon topped that list, and it wasn't close.He'd stopped feeding me anything useful weeks ago. Worse, he'd started noticing things — the gala whisper, the pointed question about patrol patterns, the particular tone I used when I wanted something from him instead of simply enjoying his company. He'd become a witness instead of an asset, watching me with the same wary caution Lyra had worn since the day I first returned to that house, and a witness who'd already started doubting

꧁ LYRA'S POVAurelia stayed on after Jaxon left, three more days and counting, framing it every time anyone asked as simple sisterly support during a difficult transition. "She's just settling into so much, so fast," she told Selene at breakfast one morning, her voice pitched warm enough to carry. "I couldn't leave without knowing she's actually alright."I let the excuse stand in public. Challenging it in front of witnesses would only feed exactly the kind of narrative she'd been quietly building since the gala — the concerned sister, the misunderstood family member, the woman everyone assumed I was somehow mistreating simply by existing in a room with her. But alone, away from any audience who might see the mask slip, her attention sharpened into something considerably less warm.I found her in the east hallway that afternoon, sunlight slanting long and gold through the tall windows, the particular late-day quiet that settled over the estate once most staff had drifted toward dinner