บททั้งหมดของ Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Don: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Aria stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The small sitting room was only a few steps away. Soft light spilled out from the half-open door. She could already hear the low sound of male voices inside — one of them familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten. She took one slow breath. Then she walked in. Kael Nightshade stood near the window with his back partially turned. He was taller than she remembered from this age, already carrying the quiet authority of a future Alpha. Dark shirt. Controlled posture. The same sharp profile that had once looked at her like she was something disposable. When he turned around, their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Aria felt the old mate bond stir weakly in her chest — a faint, unwanted echo — and crushed it down before it could rise any higher. Kael’s gaze moved over her face, then her clothes, then the way she stood. There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Confusion. Recognition that didn’t fully form. “You’re Aria

Noon arrived with a weight Aria could feel in her bones. She had showered, changed into clean black clothes, and forced herself to eat even though her appetite was gone. The fatigue from the morning’s training still lived in her muscles, but her mind was sharp. Whatever waited for her in the east wing, she would not meet it looking weak. The east wing of the mansion was quieter than the rest of the house. The carpets were thicker. The lights were softer. Even the air felt different — heavier, as if the walls themselves had been taught to keep secrets. A staff member was already waiting for her at the entrance of the long corridor. “This way, Miss Vale.” Aria followed in silence. They stopped in front of a dark wooden door at the end of the hall. The staff member knocked once, then stepped aside. “Enter.” The voice from inside belonged to Dominic. Aria pushed the door open and stepped through. The room was large and deliberately arranged. Bookshelves lined one wall. A long ta

Aria stood in the center of her room with the folded paper still pinched tightly between her fingers. The words sat in her mind with uncomfortable clarity. I know you’re not who you say you are. No name.
No demand.
No threat written in open language. Just one clean, deliberate sentence that somehow felt heavier than a blade. She walked to the desk, set the note down beneath the lamp, and stared at it. The handwriting was controlled. Precise. Not a single shaky line. Whoever had written it had not been in a rush. They had wanted the message to arrive exactly as it was. Aria sat down slowly. Her first instinct was to take it straight to Dominic.
Her second instinct was to burn it and pretend the envelope had never reached her hands. Neither choice felt safe. If she reported it, she would be placing the past directly onto her father’s desk. Dominic would tighten every layer of security around her. He would ask sharper questions. He might restrict her movements even further than

Morning did not arrive gently. Aria woke before the first light fully settled over the estate, her body already tense as if it had spent the night preparing for impact. Sleep had come in shallow pieces, broken by the same looping images: the black envelope, the single line of handwriting, and Kael’s eyes searching her face as though trying to remember a song he had once known by heart. She sat up slowly. The room was still dark. The heavy curtains held most of the dawn at bay, leaving only a thin gray seam of light along the floor. Aria swung her legs over the side of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees for a moment, letting the quiet press against her. The note had changed the air inside the house. She could feel it. When she finally rose and dressed, the difference became visible the moment she stepped into the hallway. Two guards stood farther down the corridor where none had been the day before. They did not look at her directly, but their presence was deliberate. Con

The afternoon settled over the estate with a muted kind of weight. Aria sat in the smaller study room on the second floor, the black file on Torren open in front of her once more. The windows had been left half-drawn, allowing only thin bars of light to stretch across the table. Outside, the grounds remained quiet under the increased patrols. Inside, the silence felt deliberate. She turned another page. Routes.
Known associates.
The girlfriend’s address three districts away.
The bar he favored on Thursday nights.
The pattern of his movements when he believed no one important was paying attention. Aria forced the information into place with methodical care. Every detail had to sit cleanly in her mind, separate from anger, separate from memory. Information was still the one weapon she could fully control. A soft knock interrupted her focus. She looked up. Silas stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Any progress?” he asked. “I’ve memorized what matters,” Aria re