A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs novel Chapter 38

{Elira}

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My fingers trembled slightly from drawing and redrawing my new signature.

Zenon didn’t speak much, only instructing: “Again.”

So, I did. Over and over until the plain sheet in front of me looked like a crowded field of messy letters and strokes that slowly began to resemble something unique—something mine.

At last, when the paper was nearly covered, Zenon’s cold voice broke the quiet.

“Never forget this signature,” he said, his tone sharp, as though it was a command, not advice.

I swallowed and nodded quickly.

“And practice it,” he added, “a few times every day until it becomes instinct.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to the ink-stained page.

Without another word, he reached forward, lifted the sheet from the desk, and set it aside. Then, he passed the forms back to me—the ones I was meant to complete.

“Finish them,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though my voice barely reached him.

I carefully wrote my name where required, and slowly, almost nervously, added my new signature on the dotted lines. Each stroke felt awkward at first, but by the second form, it began to flow better.

Halfway through the second sheet, the quiet was broken by the low ring of the landline on Zenon’s desk.

I glanced up instinctively. Zenon reached out, lifted the receiver, and pressed it to his ear. For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. The silence was strangely tense.

Then, all he said was, “Okay.”

He replaced the receiver without another word.

After that, he turned slightly to his right, tapped something quickly on the laptop beside him, and the small printer on the edge of the desk came to life with a low hum.

A single sheet slid out. Zenon took it, skimmed it once, then slipped it neatly into a large brown envelope.

I kept my gaze on my form, my pen shaking a bit as I signed the last page.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone curt. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” I answered softly, setting down the pen and sitting straighter.

Zenon stood and picked up the envelope. “Let’s go. Your uncle is here.”

My heart gave a startled jump.

“Uncle… Marc?” I whispered.

But Zenon was already at the door.

I rose from the chair and hurried after him, my steps echoing softly in the hallway.

In the corridor of the ground floor, I saw them immediately: Butler Daris, standing respectfully by the wall, and Uncle Marc—familiar, solid, and strangely smaller than my eyes remembered.

He turned at the sound of our approach. His gaze found me at once, and his face softened into a gentle smile.

“Elira.”

My steps faltered as old memories and fresh hurt tangled in my chest.

I had blamed him silently for so long—for not seeing, for being absent, for being too busy to notice what his wife and daughter did to me, even though I should have spoken instead of pretending to be fine.

But seeing him now, with lines of worry on his face that looked so much like Father’s… my anger loosened, slipping away like water.

I took another step, and another, until I was standing in front of him.

His eyes brightened a little, as though he’d feared I wouldn’t come.

“How are you?” he asked gently, his voice lower than I remembered.

“I’m… I’m fine, Uncle” I whispered.

“I’m glad,” he said, a hint of relief in his expression. “You look well. You are completely healed.”

Before I could answer, Zenon’s voice cut between us.

“The documents?”

My throat tightened, but I managed, “Thank you, Uncle.”

Then his voice lowered, quieter, as though he was choosing every word.

“Are you… comfortable here?”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to consider his feelings, but another part, that had promised to put myself first, just this once, chose honesty.

“I am,” I whispered. “I’m happy here.”

His eyes darkened briefly, like a shadow crossing the sun. “I see,” he murmured.

He sighed, the sound heavy. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “for all the wrongs you endured in my house. Regina insists it was the servant who harmed you, but… when it comes to you, I don’t trust her words anymore.”

Something in me loosened, and I felt a quiet relief. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Uncle Marc looked away, gazing out across the driveway as though searching for something. Then he spoke again, slower this time.

“Alpha Cyprus asked for your documents, so I brought them all. Everything you might need for the Academy.”

I nodded, unsure what to say, but grateful.

For a few seconds, silence stretched between us. Then, his gaze returned to me.

“Elira,” he began, “no other place in this world is better than home.”

I frowned slightly, confused by his words.

He continued, his tone careful. “I will make my home better for you. And when it’s ready—when it’s truly a place for you, I will come to bring you back.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to live in his house again, at least not with Regina and Lady Maren, present.

Before I could speak, he gently touched my shoulder.

“If you need anything, come to me,” he added, his voice softer now.

Then he stepped back, offered a small nod, and turned to leave.

I stood there, the breeze tugging gently at my dress, watching his back retreat toward the car he had come in.