I can hear voices as I approach: first my mother’s crisp tone, then a deeper, male voice I recognize even after six years. Alpha Alaric.
I pause before going in, smoothing down my dress even though there’s nothing to smooth.
You can do this. Just get through dinner, I tell myself silently.
I push open the door.
The dining room looks just like I remember it: crystal chandelier overhead, paintings of past alphas lining the walls, and a long table that could seat twenty. But right now, there are only two people present: my mother, looking elegant and composed, and next to her, at the head of the table, Alpha Alaric.
He hasn’t changed. Still handsome in that distinguished way older men can be, with silver threading through his darkhair and sharp, intelligent eyes that miss nothing. His suit is perfectly tailored, his posture radiating authority even while he is seated. Alaric is the kind of man who commands a room simply by existing in it.
Those stern eyes land on me as I enter, and I feel the weight of his assessment. His expression changes as he takes me in. A look of concern, maybe. His brow furrows slightly.
“Alpha Alaric,” I say, keeping my voice steady. I don’t bow—I’m family, technically, even if it doesn’t feel that way—but I incline my head respectfully.
His features soften slightly. “Violet. It’s good to see you. Please, call me Father.”
The word hangs in the air between the three of us.
My mother speaks before I can respond, her voice quick and sharp. “She may not be comfortable with that yet, Alaric.”
I remember being fourteen the first time he asked me to call him that. I did so without hesitation, desperate to please, to show gratitude. My mother smiled at the dinner table. Then, she dragged me back to our quarters and beat me into silence. The bruises lasted weeks. The lesson, even longer.
I meet my mother’s eyes now and watch her expression tighten in warning. The same look she gave me all those years ago.
A cold fury settles in my chest.
“I have no problem calling you Father,” I say, turning back to the Alpha. The word tastes strange on my tongue after all these years, but I force it out clearly. Deliberately.
My mother’s glare could cut glass.
Good.
I’m not a child anymore. She can’t touch me now. Not here, not in front of him. And if she tries when we’re alone? I’ll fight back this time. I’ve spent six years learning how.
Alaric looks pleased, and he gestures to a chair near him. “Please, sit. Tell me about your studies. Your mother mentioned you completed your master’s degree?”
“Yes, Father.” I slide into the chair. The table is too large, the space between us too formal. “In business administration.”
“Excellent.” He nods approvingly. “That will serve you well. Once Darius arrives, I have an announcement to make that concerns you both.”
My head snaps up. “Darius is joining us?”
A warmth flickers in my chest—not quite happiness, but close. The nervous anticipation from earlier returns, stronger now.
But then, I catch my mother’s expression: lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed. That familiar disapproval.
I don’t let it dim my mood this time. I’m done letting her steal even the smallest moments of happiness from me.
“You seem pleased,” Alaric observes, studying me with his sharp eyes.
“Darius was always kind to me,” I say carefully. “Before I left.”
“He’ll be glad to see you, I’m sure.” Alaric leans back in his chair. “Tell me, did you meet anyone during your time away? Any romantic prospects?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. I was focused on my education.”
My mother’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. “Well, that needs to change. You should be thinking about settling down. Starting a family.”
