Reclaimed By My Alpha (Natalia and Andrei) novel Chapter 75

**He Knows the Door to My Soul and Who Forgot to Novel 75**

**Natalia**

Everything was a whirlwind of chaos.

The walls seemed to sway, the floor undulated beneath my feet, and the ceiling above felt like it was closing in. David’s face, though mere inches away, was nothing more than a distorted blur, as he guided me through the dimly lit hallway.

“This way,” he whispered, his arm curled protectively around my waist. I struggled to maintain my balance, each step feeling like a precarious dance on a tightrope. Something was terribly amiss. Very wrong.

I hadn’t consumed that much alcohol, yet my head throbbed violently, as if it might detach from my body and float away into the ether. Had someone slipped something into my drink?

“Where are we going?” I managed to slur, my tongue feeling oversized and cumbersome, as though I had swallowed a heavy stone.

“The room you mentioned,” David replied, steering us down another dim corridor. “You said it was a place where we could be alone.”

Alone. With him. Did I genuinely say that? What had possessed me to invite this?

The thought should have sent alarm bells ringing in my mind, but my thoughts were slippery, unable to cling to any emotion for more than a fleeting moment. My anxiety slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, quickly replaced by confusion, followed by an odd, detached amusement as I noticed the chandeliers overhead casting shimmering trails of light as we moved beneath them.

These hallways felt familiar. I knew them well. I had traversed them countless times, back when this place had been my sanctuary. Back when I had been Andrei’s Luna.

Andrei.

His image flickered in my mind. All I could focus on were those piercing green eyes that had once regarded me with frigid disdain, yet had recently shown a different glimmer. A spark that quickened my heartbeat, even as I fought against it.

“How long until you finally reveal the truth to everyone—who you truly are? Natalia, not Mira,” his words from our dance echoed hauntingly in my thoughts.

Liar. I was a liar.

Then, Damon’s face surfaced in my memory. Gentle, kind Damon. My friend. My protector. The man who loved me unconditionally, even though I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings in the same way.

“Mira,” he had called me. “It’s okay to be Mira. Mira is who keeps you safe.”

These two brothers tugged at me from opposite ends—one pulling me back to the past, and the other anchoring me to the present. One beckoned me toward my true self, while the other represented the facade I had constructed to shield my children. One made my wolf howl with longing, while the other numbed her completely.

I found myself caught in a tempest of indecision. Should I follow my wolf, my heart, Natalia, Andrei… or should I cling to my safety, Mira of Ashmoor, my children, Damon?

Finally, David opened a door, ushering me into a small sitting room that I recognized instantly. It was a cozy nook I had often retreated to for quiet moments of reading during my time here. A sanctuary away from the world. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow that I had always found comforting.

“Sit,” David instructed, guiding me to the sofa. I sank into its embrace, grateful for the respite from the spinning room.

David vanished for a moment, only to return with two glasses of champagne. “Drink this,” he insisted, pressing one into my hand. “It’ll help you relax.”

I stared at the effervescent bubbles rising in the glass. More alcohol was the last thing I needed right now. Somehow, even in my foggy state, I realized that.

“I don’t think I should,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Just a sip,” David urged, settling beside me, our thighs brushing against each other. He turned toward me, his hands beginning to knead my shoulders. “You seemed stressed at the banquet. This will help.”

I accepted the glass but made no move to drink. David, however, seemed oblivious, too engrossed in his own thoughts as his fingers worked their magic on my shoulders.

“…always thought you were beautiful…”

“…the letters you sent me…”

“…wearing my dress…”

Letters? His dress? Nothing he said resonated with me. I hadn’t sent him any letters, and the dress I wore had mysteriously appeared in my room. I had assumed it was a gift from Damon.

David’s face inched closer to mine, his gaze dropping to my lips.

“I said, I’m not Mira.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

I didn’t respond. I simply staggered away, shoved the door open, and stumbled into the hallway. My hand pressed against the wall for guidance as I navigated the corridor.

It had been five years since I had last set foot in this house, yet navigating these halls felt instinctual. My body remembered every twist and turn, even if my mind struggled to keep up. Left turn here. Right at the end of this corridor. Another left.

The sounds of the banquet grew louder as I approached—music, laughter, the clinking of glasses. A world I had once belonged to, fled from, and now found myself drawn back into.

Finally, I stumbled back into the ballroom. The lights were so bright they stung my eyes, but I focused on a beacon at the far end of the room: the lone microphone standing on the stage, beside the grand piano.

My legs felt like jelly as I ascended the three small steps to the stage. The orchestra faltered, musicians exchanging bewildered glances as I approached the microphone.

I seized the microphone, wrenching it away from the pianist. He frowned, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear.

The room began to hush, the crowd’s attention shifting towards me. I tapped the microphone once, sending a blaring sound echoing through the hall. A few people winced, covering their ears.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me? I have an announcement to make…”

The crowd fell completely silent, hundreds of faces staring up at me—confused, curious, some even stifling laughter and whispering behind their hands. At the edge of the crowd, I spotted familiar figures gasping and pushing their way toward me.

Damon.

And there, at the back of the room, was Andrei. He had just entered through a side door, his face pale and etched with concern.

Before either of them could reach me, I gripped the microphone tighter and spoke with conviction.

“I’m not Mira. I’m Natalia, Andrei’s ex-wife… and I’m alive.”