Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Violet’s POV:

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The heavy double doors of Blackwood Manor groaned open. Daemon stumbled across the threshold, his tie undone and the sharp scent of bourbon clinging to his suit.

Dominic and Victoria Blackwood sat on the velvet settees, their spines rigid. I stood silently behind them,

hands clasped.

“Is this how the Alpha of the Frost Pack presents himself?” Dominic’s voice was a low rumble of authority. “Stumbling in at this hour, reeking of alcohol while your family waits?”

Daemon swayed slightly, his eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the light. “I had matters to attend to.”

“Matters?” Victoria stood up sharply. “You left your wife alone in this house all night. You humiliated us,

Daemon.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his cheek. He looked ready to snap, but the weight of his parents‘ disappointment cowed him.

I stepped forward and held out a glass of water mixed with a sobering tonic.

“Here,” I whispered.

Daemon snatched the glass, his fingers brushing mine with rough indifference, and drained it.

“Go to bed,” Dominic commanded, turning his back in disgust. “We will discuss your behavior in the

morning.”

As his parents retreated upstairs, Daemon slammed the empty glass onto a side table. He spun toward me,

sneer curling his lip.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he hissed, stepping into my space. “Playing the martyr. The perfect,

victimized wife.”

I met his gaze calmly. “I didn’t have to act, Daemon. I am the victim.”

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Chapter 20

I didn’t wait for a retort. I turned and walked upstairs, leaving him seething in the hallway.

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I reached the master bedroom first, stepping into the suffocating silence. A moment later, the door flew open. Daemon stormed in. He tore off his suit jacket with a growl of frustration and hurled it across the room. It struck the wall and slid down onto the armchair, but the force sent his personal phone sliding out

of the pocket.

It tumbled onto the rug and skidded across the floor, stopping right at my feet. The screen lit up with a

notification.

I looked down. It was a Facebook message preview from Celeste Morrison.

Alpha, thank you for your interest, but I already have a mate. Besides, you have…

A dark, twisted amusement curled in my gut. He had called her. He had tried to use that magnetic Alpha pull, only to be met with a moral brick wall.

“Don’t touch it!”

Daemon moved with the speed of a striking viper, snatching the phone from the floor.

He saw that I had read it. His face darkened.

“Trouble in paradise?” I asked, leaning against the vanity, my voice laced with mockery. “It seems your

charm has an expiration date.”

He shoved the phone into his pocket. “Shut up.”

“She turned you down,” I said clinically. “It’s embarrassing for the Pack. An Alpha chasing a girl who clearly

has more moral fiber than he does?”

I took a step forward. “Let’s be practical. You want her. She doesn’t want a mistress title. There is a

solution.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“A Rejection Ceremony,” I said clearly. “I’m offering you a clean slate. We frame it as a strategic necessity for the Pack’s survival. I am merely a Chosen Mate, Daemon. She is your True Mate. Everyone knows an

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Chapter 20

Alpha can only reach his full potential–and best protect his pack–with the bond the Moon Goddess intended. I play the gracious Luna stepping aside for the greater good; you look noble for prioritizing the Pack’s strength over a political union. You get the power, and the girl. Win–win.”

Daemon stared at me. He looked for the jealousy, the tears, the begging of the past three years. But he found only cold calculation.

Slowly, a sneer replaced his shock. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me.

“You’re in a hurry,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Why so eager to get rid of me, Violet? Have you found yourself a new wolf to warm your bed?”

I laughed, a dry sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m trying to vacate the seat because the girl in your texts

thinks it’s crowded.”

“A favor?” He reached out, his hand clamping around my jaw, tilting my face up. His grip was firm. “Listen to me. We made a pact. Even if I don’t love you, you are mine until I say otherwise.”

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