Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15

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Dominic grunted in agreement, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “She has a point. You scatter your seed all over the city, yet nothing takes root. It suggests a lack of potency. Perhaps you’ve exhausted yourself on meaningless flings.”

The humiliation in the air was thick enough to taste. Daemon’s grip on his coffee cup turned his knuckles

white.

I reached out, placing my hand gently over Daemon’s fist. I looked at his parents with wide, earnest eyes.

“Please, don’t blame Daemon,” I said softly. “His health is excellent, I assure you. We are both trying very hard. And as for the… others… I’m certain he simply takes precautions. He wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to leave complications outside our marriage.”

***

An hour later, I pulled my car up to the sleek glass facade of the Pack Clinic.

I found Evan in his office, casually updating digital charts on his tablet. He looked up as I stormed in, his expression impassive.

“You told them,” I accused. “You told Dominic and Victoria about the rejection conversation.”

“I’m protecting the pack, Violet,” he said dismissively, turning his attention back to his screen. “Marital squabbles are temporary. A broken alliance is permanent. You’re being dramatic.”

My hand shot out, sweeping a heavy crystal sculpture off the edge of his mahogany desk.

It hit the floor with a spectacular crash, shattering into a thousand glittering shards.

Evan jumped, finally looking at me with genuine shock.

“Oops,” I said, my face devoid of emotion. “I guess I am being dramatic. Send the bill to Daemon.”

I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving him staring at the wreckage of his sterile sanctuary.

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Chapter 15

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Lunch back at the manor was a somber affair, but the dynamic had shifted. My performance at breakfast, combined with the “perfect daughter–in–law‘ act, had yielded dividends.

Victoria spent the first twenty minutes berating Daemon for a recent paparazzi photo involving him and an actress, dissecting his lack of discretion with brutal efficiency. Then, she turned to me, covering my hand

with hers.

“You have the patience of a saint, Violet,” she sighed. “I don’t know how you put up with his immaturity. You are a credit to this family.”

I lowered my eyes, feigning modesty. “He has a heavy burden, Mother. I try to be understanding.”

Dominic leaned forward, fixing his son with glare. “Listen to your wife, Daemon. And listen to me. You treat her like an accessory, but you forget the old laws. You think you can do better? You think the grass is greener?” He paused, his voice dropping to a gravelly warning. “Remember this: It is often what we cannot have, and what we have already lost, that haunts us the most. Don’t wait until she’s gone to realize her

value.”

Daemon sat in silence, cutting his meat with violent strokes. He glanced at me, his eyes dark with suspicion. He didn’t see a supportive wife; he saw a conspirator who had successfully turned his own parents into her

enforcers.

“The roast is truly delicious,” Victoria noted, breaking the tension. “It’s a pity I’m leaving in two days. I would have liked to enjoy Ruby’s cooking again before we travel.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her,” I said with a gracious smile, hiding the cold amusement curling in my chest. Don’t worry. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.

As the plates were cleared, Daemon’s phone buzzed against the mahogany table.

He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor shifted from sullen annoyance to predatory alertness. His eyes snapped to mine, filled with a sudden, cold fury.

He stood abruptly. “We’re done.”

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Chapter 15

“Daemon, sit down,” Dominic commanded.

“No.” Daemon said, his voice tight. “Violet and I have matters to discuss. Upstairs.”

He didn’t wait for me. I excused myself to his confused parents and followed him up the stairs.

He was waiting in the master bedroom, the door slamming shut the moment I crossed the threshold. He walked toward me, backing me against the vanity table. He held his phone up, shoving the screen inches

from my face.

It was a photograph.

“You want to explain this?” Daemon’s voice was a low, dangerous hiss.

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