Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 128

Chapter 128

Violet’s POV:

AG 79

The weekend dinner at my parents‘ house should have been comforting, but Marcus’s voice carried a weight

that made my silverware feel heavier in my hands. “Sometimes I think if you’d had children earlier, Violet,

the house would be so much livelier now,” he said, cutting into his pot roast with deliberate precision. “With

grandchildren running around, Sunday dinners wouldn’t feel so quiet.”

My mother’s fork clattered against her plate with enough force to make both of us flinch. “Marcus, you have

no idea what childbirth is like,” Eleanor said, her voice sharp and uncharacteristically cold. “I almost died

from hemorrhaging when Violet was born. Do you remember that? Do you remember how the doctors said I

was minutes away from bleeding out?”

The silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on. My father’s face shifted through several expressions

before settling on something that looked like genuine remorse, the memory clearly hitting him harder than

I’d expected. “You’re right, Eleanor. I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual commanding

tone. “I shouldn’t have spoken so lightly about it.” He turned to me, reaching across the table to pat my

hand with awkwardness. “After the rejection ceremony, you can take your time finding someone who truly

loves you, sweetheart. The Pack needs heirs, but your happiness comes first. It always should have.”

“Come on,” my mother said softly, her hand warm on my shoulder. “The pot roast is getting cold, and you

know your father hates reheated meat.”

We returned to the table and finished dinner in relative quiet, the conversation shifting to safer topics like

Pack business.

Back in my childhood bedroom, I stared at my phone screen as messages started rolling in. The friend group

chat was its usual chaotic mess, with Sienna posting memes and Jade and Lily arguing about whether the

new restaurant downtown was worth the hype, but when I typed out my announcement, the conversation

stopped dead. “Girls, I’m going to Silver Ridge at the end of the month to learn the family business with

Aunt Sophia. I’ll be gone for quite a while.”

The response was immediate. “We’re gonna miss you so much!” from Jade, followed by a crying emoji. “But

honestly, getting away from that mess is exactly what you need,” from Lily. “FINALLY putting yourself first!”

from Sienna. “He doesn’t deserve another second of your time, Vi. Go live your life.” I smiled at my screen despite the tightness in my throat, scrolling through their messages.

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17:13 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 128

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G79

I poured myself a glass of red wine and settled into bed with my laptop, intending to do some research on Silver Ridge’s business landscape, but my phone kept buzzing with new messages. Dominic and Victoria had apparently decided that radio silence wasn’t working and had switched tactics to aggressive friendliness. “Hope you’re doing well, Violet. We’re thinking of you,” from Dominic, followed ten minutes later by

Victoria’s “Dear, how are you feeling? Please let us know if you need anything.”

I stared at both messages for a long time, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. These people had known

about Aurora, had been part of the system that pushed her toward that river, and now they wanted to play

concerned in–laws like they hadn’t spent five years watching their son treat me like furniture. The urge to

type something cutting and cruel was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to breathe through it and

settled for a simple “I’m fine, thank you” that was polite enough to pass Pack standards without encouraging

further conversation.

My phone buzzed again, but this time it was Daemon’s name on the screen. “How are you?” followed three

minutes later by “I transferred some money to your account. Go out with your friends, get some fresh air.” I

pulled up my banking app and saw a new deposit: $500,000, with the notation “For you.”

I didn’t respond, didn’t transfer the money back, just let his messages sit there unanswered while I opened

Instagram and started scrolling through my feed. Celeste’s most recent post was from two hours ago, a

carefully cropped screenshot of a text conversation where the sender’s name and profile picture had been

deliberately cut out. “Happy weekend,” read the message, followed by a transfer notification for $500,000

with the same “For you” notation I’d just received.

I stared at that screenshot until my eyes burned, at the carefully calculated post that was designed to look

spontaneous while actually being a masterclass in subtle bragging. Ember was snarling in my head, furious

and territorial in a way that made my fingers twitch with the urge to shift and tear something apart. “He’s

playing both sides!” she growled.

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