Her Alpha’s Kryptonite のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Jasmine’s POV I knew they were going to be in the boardroom the moment I heard Fabian’s name at the front desk. I shouldn’t have gone down there, I told myself that the whole way to the elevator. I had work on my desk, reports were waiting. A perfectly good reason to stay on my floor and pretend the two most powerful men currently circling my life weren’t about to tear into each other three levels below. But my feet didn’t listen, they carried me straight to the executive floor like they had a mind of their own. The hallway outside the main boardroom was quiet. I stopped a few steps from the door and just stood there, my heart already picking up speed. I could hear their voices through the thick wood. They weren’t shouting at each other, and that only made it worse. Fabian’s voice came first, smooth and controlled. “You’re hoarding her, Tristan. You have a silver-blooded omega living under your roof, training under your hand, and you’re treating her like a proprietary asset inst

Jasmine’s POV I was brushing Marc’s teeth when he asked the question. We were standing in the small bathroom, the two of us framed in the mirror above the sink. His dark curls were still damp from the bath. Toothpaste foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. I had one hand gently under his chin, the other guiding the toothbrush in the careful circles the dentist had shown us. It was an ordinary night, nothing special about it until his voice cut through the quiet. “Mom.” I hummed to let him know I was listening. “Who is my dad?” My hand on the toothbrush paused for exactly one beat. Then I continued brushing, slower now, while the question settled between us like something that had been waiting for the right moment to land. He didn’t ask it with drama. He didn’t whisper or look away. He asked it in the same calm, measured way he asked everything important—like he had already turned the thought over carefully and decided it deserved a real answer instead of a comfortable defle

Tristan’s POV The strands of Marc’s hair lay flat on my desk. Three of them, dark, fine and silky strands. Almost weightless against the black surface. I had taken them in the lobby without him noticing, my hand briefly resting on the back of his head while he showed me the silver wolf in his notebook, fingers closing carefully, then opening again as if I had only been ruffling his hair the way any adult might. He had not noticed, Jeff had possibly not noticed. Even I had almost convinced myself it was nothing until I returned to the office and placed them on the desk with deliberate care. I stared at them for a long time before I reached for the phone. Jesse’s line connected on the second ring. I pressed one hand over the hairs while I waited for his voice, not looking at them, only feeling the faint texture under my palm. It was so light they barely registered, and heavy enough that my chest felt tight around the decision I had been avoiding for months. “Alpha,” Jesse said.

Jasmine’s POVI looked down at my hands, they were clenched so tight the nails had left small white crescents in my palms. I stared at them for a second, then slowly unclenched my fingers one by one. The blood came back in a dull tingle. My hands looked ordinary again. Steady enough, even though they did not feel steady.Zea’s words were still sitting in my chest—Marshall was taking money from the Obsidian Circle, him showing up at my door, the apology, the promises, none of it had been guilt.I already suspected something was off that day, not Marshall specifically, not the syndicate either. I just knew there was something wrong in the alignment between the performance he gave and the man I actually knew. The timing felt too clean, the words felt too practiced. I had felt it in my gut while I leaned my weight against the door and told him he had already had his chance. I suspected, and then I ruled the suspicion under assumptions I could not yet prove and kept moving. I had Marc to p

Zea’s POV The moment I heard the bell ring, I stood up and answered the door. Wade stood on the other side, both hands in the pocket of his jacket. He was holding a small drive in one hand and looking like he hadn’t slept well the night before. I stayed in the frame, running my eyes over his length, from his shoes to hairline. He had on boots that were slightly scuffed, dark jeans with a plain shirt, and his glasses that makes him look all nerdy. He looked exactly like what he was—a hacker, who lived in back rooms with screens, digging up informations people thought no one would ever find. He adjusted his glasses, held out the drive, and started to turn away like the handoff was the entire job. I understood him, he was trying to stay out of the picture in case Marshall and his cohorts were somewhere around the apartment building. “Stay for coffee,” I said. It was not a suggestion, my tone made that clear. He stopped, heaved a sigh, then he stepped forward, caught the edge of t