All Chapters of My Alpha’s Dying Lie: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I could hear someone turning a page. Nora stayed beside me, close enough that I could see her hand resting on her folder.I took a small sip of water before the questioning continued.For once, I didn’t have to fill the silence with excuses for someone else.When the hearing ended, I walked outside.Someone raised a phone. Staff quickly cleared a path, keeping people from crowding around us.I didn’t stop.I didn’t answer the questions shouted after me.Only after I got into the car did I realize the back of my shirt was soaked with sweat.Nora handed me a tissue.“That’s it for today.”I nodded and took another sip of warm water.No one told me I had to finish it.I attended the hearing the day Amy testified.She wore a faded blouse, and her hands shook as she took her seat.She didn’t deny helping hold me down.She didn’t blame everything on the housekeeper, either.The questions kept coming.Was she changing her story because she was afraid of the consequences?Was that why she was

There was also the birthday card she’d given me when I turned twenty.Alexander used to say too much old stuff made a home feel depressing.So I’d packed those things away.Eight years later, they were finally on my table again.I left them there while I looked through the rest of the box.Nothing needed to be hidden before he got home. No one was coming to tell me the room would look better without reminders of my mother in it.On the day the divorce became official, Nora brought over a small lemon cake.She opened the box, then hesitated.“If you don’t feel like—”“I do.”I picked up a fork.The first bite was so tart I made a face.Nora laughed.I laughed, too.Halfway through my slice, I started crying.She didn’t take the cake away.She moved the tissues closer and waited.That night, Alexander sent me one last personal email.No attachments.Just one sentence.I finally understand that you’re not coming back.I read it without replying.Then I restricted his personal messages and

Nora handed me a pen.I wrote my objection beside the paragraph.This wasn’t a disagreement between spouses.I had left because I’d been harmed.They could protect my medical privacy without rewriting established violence as marital tension.Two representatives arrived that afternoon.The older woman sighed over my revisions.“Claire, ordinary families depend on this pack. Strong language could alarm our outside partners.”I placed another page in front of her.“These are the protected public expenses. Payroll. Medical care for children and seniors. Support for the affected households.”She looked down.“I know.”“I haven’t asked any of those families to pay for Alexander’s actions.”She fell silent.“Are you worried about the pack,” I asked, “or how the Hale name looks?”The younger representative picked up the draft.“We’ll revise it.”His colleague frowned.“You can’t decide that alone.”“And we can’t decide for Ms. Bennett.”Nora worked through the changes with them.When it was ti

That night, I didn’t hide the album in a cupboard.I put it beside my bed, where I could reach it.The following week, Nora asked whether I wanted an update about the children.I finished wiping water from a plant tray before sitting down.“Tell me.”“Their care arrangements are settled. They’ll have a stable home and independent support. You won’t be paying their expenses, and no one can demand visits because they need comforting.”I nodded.“Celeste also wants to send a letter asking you not to discuss the details of the case with them.”“I wasn’t planning to contact them.”“I know. You don’t have to respond.”“What have they been told?”“That their parents did something wrong and can’t come home right now. Their caregivers will explain things in ways they can understand. None of the blame will be put on them.”My hands slowly relaxed.I remembered the older boy standing beside Celeste.What I remembered most clearly now was his hand gripping her clothes while the adults talked.“I d

“I’d like to come back.”“Three mornings a week. Tell me about appointments ahead of time. If you feel lousy, sit down.”On my third shift, I saw a familiar name on a delivery order.Hale.My fingers stiffened.It was for a public pack building.“I can’t handle this account.”Martha waited while I explained only what she needed to know.She crossed something out in the schedule.“You take the propagation area. I’ll handle the order.”“If anyone asks about me—”“I sell plants. Not information about my employees.”She pointed toward the sink.“Wash your face. You look pale.”When I came back, the delivery had been moved aside.No one asked questions.A coworker called me over to steady a cart.I helped.At home, I wrote my shifts into the calendar.Then I added my medication and appointment times beside them.I didn’t cross anything out.Alexander’s last attempt to contact me came through a financial document that needed clarification.Nora extracted the parts I had to review and asked m