Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Elara’s POV

"I am Valerius’s father."

The words landed like a hammer on an anvil. The kitchen went silent. Even the pot on the stove seemed to stop bubbling.

Finnian’s face drained of color. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His blue eyes darted from Kaelen to me, then to Valerius, then back to Kaelen. I was left entirely speechless, my whole body trembling so fiercely that I completely forgot about the pasta sauce simmering on the stove. I watched the pieces fall into place behind Finnian’s gaze—the dark curls, the gold eyes, the same stubborn jaw.

His throat worked. He took a half-step backward, not from choice but from instinct. Kaelen’s monarch aura pressed down on the room like a physical weight, invisible but suffocating. I could feel it on my own skin—a low vibration in the air, a gravitational pull that made my wolf want to bare her throat.

Finnian was human. He didn’t have a wolf. But his body understood power. His shoulders curled inward slightly, his chin dipping by a fraction. The bread knife lay forgotten on the counter.

"Daddy!" Valerius shrieked from his stool.

My heart stopped.

My son—my cautious, careful, sensitive son—launched himself off the stool with the reckless abandon of a child who had just been handed the one thing he’d been wishing for. He crashed into Kaelen’s legs, wrapping both arms around his thigh and pressing his face into the dark fabric of his trousers.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," he chanted, like the word itself was magic and he needed to say it enough times to make it real.

Something fractured in Kaelen’s expression. The cold, predatory mask cracked. His hand came down—slowly, almost reverently—and settled on the back of Valerius’s head. His fingers curled into those dark curls, and for a single, unguarded breath, his gold eyes shone with something that looked dangerously close to breaking.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, buddy."

"Are you staying for pasta?" Valerius demanded, pulling back to look up at him. "Mommy made sauce. With love in it. That’s the secret ingredient."

The corner of Kaelen’s mouth twitched. "Is that so?"

"It’s true. She told me."

I wanted to dissolve into the floorboards.

Kaelen’s gaze lifted from Valerius and found me. The softness lingered for one more heartbeat. Then his hand moved—reached across the space between us—and settled on my shoulder. Firm. Deliberate. His thumb pressed against the curve where my neck met my collarbone.

A brand. That’s what it was. Not a gesture of comfort. A brand.

"I’m Ela’s mate," he said. His tone was conversational. Almost pleasant. As though he were commenting on the weather. "I’ve been helping her deal with some dangerous family matters. Matters that required discretion."

The word "mate" hit the room like a second detonation.

Finnian’s jaw tightened. A muscle flexed beneath the skin. His gaze dropped to Kaelen’s hand on my shoulder—lingered there—then rose to meet mine.

The question in his eyes was quiet but unmistakable. You didn’t tell me?

"Finnian." My voice came out thin. I swallowed and tried again. "I was going to tell you. About Kaelen. About all of it. Every time I tried, something interrupted—the journey, Valerius, the timing was never—"

"It’s fine," Finnian said.

It was not fine. His voice was careful and controlled, the way a man speaks when he is holding something fragile between his teeth and cannot afford to bite down.

"I understand," he added. Quieter.

And the worst part was, I think he did.

His shoulders straightened. The involuntary submission to Kaelen’s aura receded, replaced by a rigid, deliberate composure. He folded the dish towel that hung over his shoulder. Set it neatly on the counter. Took a measured breath.

"I didn’t realize," he said, directing the words somewhere between Kaelen and me. "She didn’t mention a mate."

Kaelen’s thumb pressed harder into my shoulder. "She’s cautious by nature. It’s one of the things I admire about her."

I could have screamed.

Instead, I turned back to the stove. The sauce was starting to catch on the bottom of the pot. I grabbed the wooden spoon and scraped it along the iron, channeling every ounce of my screaming internal chaos into the circular motion of stirring.

Stir. Breathe. Stir.

Valerius, gloriously oblivious, had already moved on. He climbed back onto his stool and resumed his salad operation with renewed enthusiasm, narrating the entire process.

"And then the tomato goes here, and the cucumber goes there, and Daddy, do you like olives? I don’t like olives. Finnian doesn’t like olives either. We agreed."

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