Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133: Chapter 133

Kaelen’s POV

I unfolded the parchment in the silent nursery.

Her handwriting was steady. Every letter clean, every line perfectly spaced. She’d taken her time with this. She hadn’t written it in a rush of emotion or a moment of weakness. She’d sat down, chosen her words, and written them with the same careful precision she brought to everything.

That made it worse.

My dearest Kaelen,

By the time you read this, I will already be gone. Please—I beg you—do not come looking for me.

My fingers tightened on the edges of the parchment. Alex surged forward, a roar building in my chest that I swallowed back down because Lyra was sleeping and Valerius was somewhere behind me and I couldn’t—I couldn’t—

I kept reading.

I know you will want to. I know you’ll think this is a mistake. But I need you to understand that I have thought about this for a long time, and I am certain. This is not a decision I made lightly.

I am no longer a wolf, Kaelen. The woman you chose—the woman the Moon Goddess bound to you—she doesn’t exist anymore. What’s left is a mortal. A fragile, ordinary mortal who cannot shift, cannot fight, cannot protect herself or the people she loves. I am not your Luna. I am not a queen. I am nothing but a liability wearing a crown that no longer fits.

A low sound escaped my throat. Something between a growl and a sob. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth to muffle it.

Last night at the party, I stepped away from the hall to check on the children. I passed a corridor where several members of the imperial court were gathered. They did not see me. But I heard them clearly.

They called our children "filthy half-breeds." They said Valerius and Lyra’s bloodline had been "permanently tainted" by a mother who was no longer even wolf. They said our son would never command true loyalty because the empire would always see him as the child of a broken mortal. They said these things about our babies, Kaelen. Our babies.

"They are wrong!"

The words ripped out of me in a fierce, furious roar before I could stop them. My voice vibrated with a fury so deep it made my vision blur as I snarled into the silent room. "They are wrong!"

"Daddy?"

I spun around. My five-year-old son, Valerius, stood in the nursery doorway, his dark gold eyes wide and terrified by my outburst.

"Why are you saying bad words?" he asked, his little voice trembling.

The barely human snarl that had torn through my teeth had terrified him. I forced myself to take a ragged breath, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

"I’m sorry, buddy," I choked out, unable to comfort him properly as my gaze was violently pulled back down to the letter in my hands.

I refuse to be your weakness. I refuse to be the crack in your armor that your enemies exploit. And I refuse—absolutely refuse—to be the reason our children grow up as targets of scorn and ridicule. They deserve better. You deserve better.

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