Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 89

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 89

“Well, well,” Sienna said loudly, her voice cutting through the quiet corridor like a knife. “If it isn’t the

homewrecker herself.”

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Celeste’s smile faltered. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheekbones. She nodded once–quick, jerky

-then turned and practically fled back into Mason’s room.

What was she watching?

“Come on,” I said quietly, touching Sienna’s elbow. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

We walked to the far end of the corridor, near the emergency stairwell where the hallway dead–ended.

“Jesus Christ.” Sienna’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “You’ve known for months and you didn’t-” She cut

herself off, processing. “Wait. You knew and you’re just… waiting?”

“I’m waiting for Daemon to grow a spine and ask for the rejection ceremony himself,” I said flatly.

Sienna stared at me. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face–fierce and proud. “Holy shit, Vi. You’re

actually done being a doormat.”

“Took me long enough.”

“No, seriously.” She grabbed my shoulders, eyes shining. “This is the Violet I remember from university. The

one who didn’t take shit from anyone. I thought marriage had beaten it out of you.”

“Sienna, listen to me. You cannot tell my mother about this. Not yet. Not while she’s recovering from bond

shock.”

“I know. No comments about Celeste. No references to affairs. Nothing.”

When we pushed open the door to my mother’s room, I stopped short.

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Chapter 89

Daemon stood beside Eleanor’s bed, holding a plate of cut fruit.

Eleanor smiled up at him from her pillows, her face wan but grateful. “You’re too kind, Daemon. You didn’t

have to come all this way.”

Daemon turned, his blood–red eyes landing on me. Something flickered in their depths–complex,

unreadable. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping close enough that I could smell his scent.

“If you need anything,” he said quietly, his voice pitched for my ears only, “call me.”

I turned away, deliberately breaking eye contact. Moved to the window and started unpacking the

sandwiches Sienna had brought, focusing on the mundane task of arranging food.

I heard him say goodbye to my mother. Heard his footsteps cross the room. The door opened and closed.

He was gone.

I sat beside my mother’s bed. She was watching me with tired eyes that saw too much.

“He’s a good man,” she said softly. “Daemon. Checking in like this.”

I managed a smile. “He cares about you, Mom.”

My mother patted the bed. “Sienna, dear. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Of course, Mrs. Goldcrest.” Sienna’s voice was warm, genuine. “Vi’s like a sister to me.”

We settled into easy conversation–Sienna entertaining my mother with stories from her disastrous blind

date, making Eleanor laugh for the first time in days. I watched my mother’s face relax, saw some of the

tension ease from her shoulders.

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“Mom,” I said during a lull, “I want to hire a professional nurse to stay with you. Someone who can monitor

your heart, make sure you’re getting proper rest.”

Eleanor’s hand fluttered weakly. “Violet, no. That’s too expensive. I’ll be fine-”

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Chapter 89

“Mom.” I took her hand gently. “Doctor Thorne specifically said you need absolute rest. No stress, no

excitement. A nurse can make sure of that.”

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“Your daughter’s right, Mrs. Goldcrest,” Sienna chimed in. “You need someone who knows what they’re

doing. Someone who can call the doctor if anything changes.”

Eleanor looked between us, then sighed. “You’re ganging up on me.”

“Because we love you,” I said simply.

Her eyes grew misty. “Alright. If it makes you feel better.”

Sienna leaned forward conspiratorially. “And Mrs. Goldcrest, don’t you worry. We’re going to figure out who’s

trying to frame Mr. Goldcrest. We’ll find that evil woman and-” She caught herself just in time, glancing at

1. me. “We’ll make sure justice is served.”

She’d almost said it. Almost called Kayla something far more colorful.

Sienna stood, stretching. “I should head out. Let you two have some mother–daughter time.” She kissed

Eleanor’s cheek, then mine. “Call me if you need anything, Vi. And I mean anything.”

After she left, the room fell quiet. My mother and I talked softly–about nothing important, about

everything important. Hospital food. The snow outside.

Within minutes, exhaustion claimed her. Her eyes drifted shut mid–sentence, her breathing evening out into

sleep.

I watched her for a long moment. The stress of the past few days had carved new lines around her eyes. But

there was peace in her face now–the peace of having chosen to trust, of having her mate fight for her

belief.

She must have barely slept these past two nights, I thought. Lying awake, tormented by doubt and fear. But

today, my father had come. They’d talked. Reconciled. Made the choice to face this together.

Now she could finally rest.

I stood and moved to the window, needing air. The room felt suddenly stifling. I pushed the window open a

crack, letting in the cold bite of winter.

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Chapter 89

And that’s when I saw them.

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Below, in the hospital’s small garden, two figures stood in the snow. Even from three floors up, I recognized

them instantly.

Daemon’s tall frame was unmistakable–broad shoulders, dark hair, the confident stance of an Alpha who

owned every space he occupied. He stood close to a smaller figure, head bent to listen.

Celeste looked up at him, her honey–blonde hair catching the late afternoon light. Her hands moved as she

spoke, animated, expressive. The distance between them was intimate. Familiar.

I stood frozen at the window, one hand gripping the frame.

He was happy with her.

I checked my phone. 2:47 PM. Daemon had left my mother’s room at 1:30. Over an hour ago.

He’d spent less than fifteen minutes with my dying mother. But he’d waited here–at this hospital–for over

an hour. Waiting for Celeste.

If Daemon is so certain he loves her, why won’t he just end our bond? Why does he keep dragging this out?

Why does he still touch me? Still take me to bed like I mean something when we both know I don’t?

Below, Daemon must have sensed something. His head suddenly lifted.

His blood–red eyes found my window with unerring accuracy.

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