The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 37

Melanie’s POV

“Alpha Archer heard that you and your boss made things difficult for Camille, and immediately went to cause trouble for Hilltop Tech. He just gave us a project worth millions of dollars that day. Do you know what’s the better part? It’s the very project your uncle has been wanting lately.”

I heard Gloria’s comment about the “millions of dollars project,” and it felt like a searing hot iron block being pressed against the back of my scent gland.

Frost let out a low growl deep in my consciousness, her fur bristling.

It was a burn–a heat that tasted of betrayal, rushing down from my neck.

My fingers clenched, my nails digging pale crescent moons into my palms.

The air conditioning in the store kept blowing, but I could still distinguish their scents in the air.

Marvin smelled of aged oak and a hint of peppermint oil; Paisley’s scent was a cold, masked iris perfume; and Gloria’s was a cloying sweetness, like raspberry syrup.

My pheromones instinctively tried to break free, a Luna aura threatening to rise like a tide.

I forcibly crushed it back below the threshold, maintaining public pack etiquette so no innocent staff or customers would feel oppressed.

Gillian was the first to scoff. “Is Archer mated to Camille? No. Only people in your pack would be shameless enough to claim him as their own before the mating bond is even official.”

Gloria suddenly raised her chin, her thin lips tightening. “You-”

“Enough,” Marvin stopped her, a reminder to her as much as to me.

He looked at me, sighing heavily, deliberately adopting a humble stance. “Camille is a genius in the Al field. Her joining your company was for something important. I hope you’ll stop being childish and stop targeting her.”

He emphasized “genius” and “important,” as if labeling my displeasure as an unreasonable tantrum.

Frost pushed against my ribcage, like she wanted to leap out of her bone cage.

I straightened my spine, my voice crisp. “Finished?”

I calmly released my Alpha aura, the sheer power making my Alpha–blooded father flinch slightly.

Hooked him straight in the eye, not backing down, just clearly drawing the line. “If you’re done, please move aside.”

Paisley, who had been silent, finally spoke, her tone cold enough to carry a chill. “Melanie, how can you talk to your father like that?”

Gloria quickly followed up, “Exactly. It’s just bad manners.”

My smile didn’t reach my eyes. “The ‘manners‘ you speak of does that mean taking someone else’s mate and packaging a mistress as a legitimate mate? If so, I certainly can’t learn that.”

She was so angry her chest heaved, her perfume’s sweetness exploding in the small space

I saw the staff at the front desk instinctively take half a step back–not from my aura, but from her panic and shrill tone.

“Enough,” Marvin said, seemingly realizing that further argument would only humiliate them. He pulled his hand back, his expression tired and annoyed. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 37

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He picked up the custom gift. Paisley and Gloria followed him out, their perfume trailing a long, sweet tail.

The door opened and closed, letting in the cool air from the mall. The store became quiet again.

After walking a distance away from the store, Gillian stopped and turned to me. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, then nodded, finally answering in the most stable voice I could manage, “I’m fine.”

The embers were still burning at the back of my scent gland, a subtle but real sensation.

I pushed my pheromones deep into my chest, keeping them on a clean, controlled track.

From the day Marvin signed the divorce papers at the notary’s office, he stopped being a father in my heart.

What truly hurt wasn’t what he said today, but that my own choices were putting more pressure on my uncle; what hurt more was Archer’s favoritism–for Camille’s sake, he was merciless toward Elmer and my uncle, never once considering my feelings.

At that thought, a cold knife plunged straight into my chest.

Frost bit down on the back of the knife in my mind, growling, reminding me that pain shouldn’t be what defines my boundaries.

“Come here,” Gillian wrapped me in a hug.

I allowed myself to rest on her shoulder for two seconds, letting my breathing return to an acceptable rhythm.

I forced a smile and answered the question she hadn’t asked aloud. “I’ll move on. Just give me a little time. I can do this.”

“Want to grab a drink? Just relax?” she suggested.

I shook my head. “No. I want to go back and focus on data and models.”

What brings me peace is never alcohol, but the order of code, the convergence curve of the loss function, and answers that can be proven.

That’s where my true pulse lies.

She nodded, not pressing further, and we walked toward the parking lot.

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