The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Third Person’s POV

Trista turned around and leaned against the car door, her face scrunched up in a heavy pout. “Mom, are you seriously doing the ‘ work‘ thing again?”

There was a touch of whining in her voice, that classic kid–style guilt trip.

In her head, the only thing that ever kept her mom from staying over was work stealing her away.

Melanie looked totally unfazed, but her voice stayed soft. “Yeah. Focus in class, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

She didn’t bother explaining further.

It wasn’t about being “busy“-it was about the fact that she didn’t belong in pack territory anymore, and she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome.

With Archer constantly obsessed with growing his empire, pullng all–nighters was just the status quo for the Razor Pack. (t

Since Melanie had started doing her own vanishing act lately, Trista just figured she’d caught the “workaholic” bug. She hadn’t realized yet that her mother’s scent was being scrubbed from this cold–hearted villa, one piece at a time.

As the headlights cut through the dark, Shannon the omega was already waiting at the front door, looking as dutiful as ever.

Trista, who was already starting to pick up on the power vibes of the territory, looked up at her. “Dad, are you home?”

“Alpha Archer is already upstairs,” Shannon said with a smile.

Melanie’s grip on the wheel didn’t budge. She didn’t even kill the engine.

She looked straight ahead, not even glancing at the glowing window of the master suite. “Trista, I’m headed out. See you later.”

Trista blinked, looking a bit stunned, and stepped back to let her go.

Shannon looked totally confused, her eyes darting from Melanie’s stone–cold profile to the pitch–black night. “Luna Melanie? You’re leaving? It’s so late.”

“I’ve got things to take care of.” Melanie had zero desire to chat.

To someone who already had their bags packed to leave their mate, this building–full of that sharp, chilly patchouli scent- wasn’t “home” anymore. It was just a house. 1

She rolled down the window and gave her dazed daughter one last look. “The wind’s picking up. Get inside before the cold

messes with your scent glands.”

Trista puckered her lips, her pup pheromones radiating a wave of “I’m bummed out,” but she finally nodded. “Fine.”

She took a few steps back, looked over her shoulder once, and then sprinted inside.

Melanie watched the small silhouette disappear into the porch light before slowly pulling out of the driveway

Inside, Trista’s boots thudded across the marble floor. “Where’s Dad?”

“In the study.”

She headed up the stairs and pushed open the heavy door.

Archer was a tall, imposing shadow standing by the window, the cherry of a cigarette glowing and fading in the dark

The sheer pressure of a high–tier Alpha mixed with the faint scent of tobacco, giving off a “don’t come near me incredibly lonely.

Chapter 61

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“Dad.”

“Mhm.” Archer didn’t turn around. His eyes were locked on a pair of red taillights disappearing down the mountain road.

“Mom said she had an emergency. She dropped me off and burned rubber.”

Archer crushed the cigarette into a white porcelain ashtray. “I know. I saw her leave.”

Trista wrinkled her nose. “Mom’s like a different person lately. She’s almost as busy as you are.”

Archer finally turned around, a tiny, almost invisible smirk touching his lips.

“Go get your bath and get to bed. Night.”

“Night, Dad.”

The next day, Melanie was at the Atkinson Group right on the dot. 1

In the afternoon, she headed over to Swift Tech with Ainslie and the core tech crew for some backend maintenance.

This time, she didn’t run into that “perfect couple” by the elevators.

The air at Swift Tech still had traces of Camille’s aggressive, floral perfume, but Melanie’s heart was as still as her own hidden apple scent. Not a single ripple.

Over the next few days–including Thursday, when she went back to the pack to cook dinner for Trista–Archer was a ghost.

Word was he hadn’t even left town.

Whether he was at a private apartment with Camille or playing power games at some high–stakes gala, Melanie didn’t ask.

That gut–level possessiveness a Luna was supposed to feel for her Alpha had been ground down to nothing by years of being ignored.

Friday, right before clock–out, Trista called as expected, sounding totally pathetic. “Mom, Dad has plans this weekend again… he’s not staying here. When are you coming back?”

Melanie stared out the floor–to–ceiling windows at the city neon. She got it.

For the last two years, she’d killed herself trying to be the perfect mom and the perfect Luna just to make that man happy, while Archer used “private schedules” as a get–out–of–jail–free card. (1

Now that his private life was basically public news, she just stepped in to fill the “parent” slot.

She went back to the Alpha villa.

At dinner, the silver utensils sat there looking cold under the lights.

Melanie asked softly, “What do you want to do this weekend?”

Trista chewed on her silver spoon, but she didn’t seem excited about anything. Melanie saw right through it—the kid didn’t want a trip to the park; she wanted a world where Archer, Camille, and her could play “happy family.”

Too bad there was never a seat for Melanie at that table.

She didn’t call her daughter out on it. She just made a gentle suggestion. “How about the stables? You haven’t ridden your little

red horse in forever.”

At the mention of riding, Trista’s eyes finally lit up. The wildness in her blood kicked in. “Yes! Let’s go!”

2/3

Chapter 62