Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173: Chapter 173

Elara’s POV

My fork slipped from my fingers.

It hit the layered pie dish with a sharp, ringing clang that echoed through the kitchen like a bell. A chunk of pastry crumbled under the impact. Cheese oozed sideways.

Nobody moved.

The name hung in the air between us. A wound I’d stitched shut with silence and sweat and blood in the arena, torn open in one breath by a woman with flour on her apron.

"Margaret—" Finnian started.

"I asked her a question, darling." Margaret’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. Her thumb still rested on my knuckles. Warm. Patient. Unrelenting.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"That’s not—" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. Tried to rebuild the wall. "That’s not relevant."

"It’s the most relevant question there is."

"Mother." Finnian set the dish towel down with deliberate care. "I told you not to push."

"And I heard you." Margaret didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed locked on mine. Soft. Devastating. "But someone has to, Finnian. Someone has to ask what this girl won’t let herself say out loud."

The fire popped. A log shifted in the hearth, sending a spray of sparks up the chimney.

I stared at my tea. At the trembling surface. At my own warped reflection staring back—silver hair, hollow cheeks, eyes that looked too old for my face.

Margaret’s voice dropped to a murmur. The kind of voice you use with wounded animals. "Sweetheart. It’s just us."

And that was what broke me.

Not the question. Not the name. The gentleness. The absolute, unbearable tenderness of a woman who had no obligation to care about me and did anyway.

The first tear hit the table before I even realized I was crying.

Then more followed. And suddenly I couldn’t stop—couldn’t breathe—couldn’t hold any of it back. The dam I’d built over years of fighting and running and refusing to feel anything crumbled like wet sand.

"I left them." The words came out shattered. Barely recognizable. "I left my children, Margaret. I left—" A sob tore through me. "Valerius woke up every morning and I wasn’t there. Lyra doesn’t even—she was so small. She doesn’t even know my face."

Margaret was out of her chair in an instant. Her arms came around me, pulling my head against her chest, her hand cradling the back of my skull the way she’d done the first time I’d shown up at her door, pregnant and half-dead with grief.

"Shh. Shh, darling."

"He’s eight now." I choked on the number. On the years it represented. "Valerius is eight and I missed it. I missed all of it. And Lyra—Lyra is three and she probably calls someone else—" I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Finnian’s hand landed on my shoulder. Steady. Warm. He didn’t speak. Just held on.

"They must hate me." I pressed my fists against my eyes. "Every morning they wake up and their mother isn’t there and they must hate me."

"You don’t know that," Margaret said firmly.

"I do. I would. I should be hated."

Footsteps behind me. Robert’s voice, quiet and gravel-rough from the doorway. He must have come back in. "That’s not true, dear."

He pulled a chair beside me and sat down. His large, weathered hand settled on my back, rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades.

"You survived," Robert said. "You survived something that would have destroyed most people. You built a life. You got stronger. That’s not weakness. That’s not something to be ashamed of."

I shook my head violently. "I’m not stronger. I’m just—I’m ordinary. I’m a mortal woman with no wolf, no power, no bloodline worth anything. I’m not—" My voice splintered. "I’m not worthy of him. Of any of them. A sovereign and his empire deserve more than what I am."

The kitchen went silent.

Margaret pulled back enough to look at my face. Her eyes were red-rimmed but fierce.

"You listen to me, Elara Frostfang." Her hands cupped my cheeks. Warm palms against wet skin. "I have watched you drag yourself out of darkness more times than I can count. I have watched you raise a child alone, teach yourself to fight, earn your own way. Don’t you dare sit in my kitchen and tell me you’re nothing."

"But I am." It came out as a whisper. "Without Moonlight. Without my wolf. I’m just... ordinary."

"Ordinary women don’t survive what you’ve survived," Robert said.

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