The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 83

Melanie’s POV

He didn’t even look up. He simply murmured a faint, “Mhm.”

No questions. No attempt to stop me.

His response landed like a pebble tossed onto empty ground–too indifferent to even leave an echo.

Early the next morning, after dropping Trista off at school, I headed straight back to the office.

Monica’s birthday was coming up, but over the past month, work had completely consumed me, leaving no time to prepare a gift for her. At lunchtime, I called Gillian and asked if she could go shopping with me that evening. When I mentioned I needed help picking out a birthday present for my grandmother, she agreed without hesitation.

I still hadn’t sent Skye’s invitation.

I dialed her number. It rang, but no one answered.

I wasn’t surprised. Skye had never liked me–or rather, she disliked all of us Willis. Her ignoring the call was most likely intentional. Still, I had to at least make the effort.

After the call disconnected on its own, I dialed again. This time, she hung up immediately.

I understood.

No anger. No disappointment.

I simply drafted a message, briefly explaining my purpose and asking when she would be available so I could deliver the

invitation.

Sent

Then I set my phone aside and returned to work.

That evening, Gillian and I practically walked the entire mall, yet we still couldn’t find a gift that felt right. Just as I was about to give up, she suddenly said, “There’s a charity auction the night after tomorrow. Why don’t we take a look there?”

I paused. “But I don’t have an invitation.”

Gillian hesitated, looking troubled. “Invitations were sent out two weeks ago. Getting one now would be difficult… but maybe you could-”

She didn’t finish, but her meaning was obvious.

Ask Archer for help.

After nine that night, I returned to the villa. Archer was already home, in his study.

I knew very well that he disliked anyone approaching that room, so I stayed in the bedroom, flipping through a book while waiting for him. It wasn’t until nearly one in the morning that he finally returned.

I closed the book and looked at him.

He removed his cufflinks, his tone flat. “Something you need?”

“I heard there’s a charity auction the night after tomorrow.”

His movements paused slightly as he glanced up at me, “You want an invitation?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Chapter 83

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“Understood.”

He loosened his tie, turned, and walked into the dressing room before heading into the bathroom.

His efficiency left me momentarily speechless. But since he had agreed, I didn’t dwell on it. I lay back on the bed, listening to the shower start running, and soon drifted into a deep sleep.

The following evening, when I returned to the villa, Archer wasn’t there.

Trista, however, clung to me, saying she wanted to eat something I cooked. I agreed. After dinner, Omega Shannon suddenly approached and handed me an envelope.

“Luna, someone just delivered this.”

I opened it.

Inside was an invitation to the charity auction—and two tickets.

Archer had actually gotten them.

The fact that he had someone deliver them instead of bringing them himself meant he probably wouldn’t be coming back tonight either.

Just as I was about to take a shower, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Gillian. I tapped it open, but my hand froze the next second.

It was a screenshot.

Fireworks burst across the night sky, dazzling and magnificent. Centered in the frame was Camille’s smiling profile, and beside her stood that familiar, stern silhouette.

The caption read only one sentence:

Tonight’s fireworks festival is beautiful.

It was a place couples usually went on dates. The fireworks might truly have been beautiful–but what was even more beautiful was her mood in that moment.

Because the person beside her was Archer.

I stared at the photo for a few seconds, yet felt strangely calm inside.

Then I replied to Gillian:

[You follow Camille on J*******m?]

She responded quickly, saying a mutual friend had sent it to her. I didn’t press further.

The extra invitation lay quietly on the table. After staring at it for a while, I messaged Cillian again, asking if she wanted to attend the auction with me the next day.

She replied almost instantly.

“Yes! Absolutely yes!”

That night, Archer didn’t come home, just as I had expected. I slept alone in the bedroom. Without that heavy patchouli seunt lingering in the air, I slept unusually well.

It turned out that a night alone wasn’t so bad after all.

The next evening, Gillian and I arrived at the auction venue together

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Neither of us had dressed up deliberately. No extravagant gowns. No flashy jewelry. Just clean, understated outfits–appropriate for socializing without seeming overly eager to impress.

Yet the moment we stepped into the auction hall, we still drew attention.

Not because we stood out.

But because a pack of wolves can always identify an outsider.

Gillian was no stranger to this circle. She had attended several major auctions and regularly appeared at similar social events. The air itself seemed to carry traces of familiar scents around her. Some people nodded in greeting; others offered quiet pleasantries.

As for me, I was a complete newcomer.

When they noticed me walking beside Gillian, those curious glances lingered a little longer–as if assessing which pack I truly belonged to, and in what capacity I stood here tonight.

Our seats were in the middle–rear section. Not bad, but clearly far from the true center of power in a setting like this.

We had barely sat down when the lights slowly dimmed, signaling the auction was about to begin.

Just then, a disturbance rippled through the front row–subtle, but impossible to ignore. The air itself seemed to twist, as though invisible claws had ripped through it.

A powerful, almost savage surge of Alpha pheromones swept across the hall, laced with the sharp, icy scent of patchouli. It struck like a war hammer at the heart of the crowd, instantly crushing and driving out the muddled blend of lingering scents in

the air.

Around him, the throats of lower–ranking males tightened in near–perfect unison. It was pure instinct–fear, submission, the unavoidable response of prey standing before an apex predator.

The unseen pressure in the room shuddered violently, as if the very magnetic field of the space had been torn apart and violently reassembled.

This wasn’t merely a display of dominance.

It was a Supreme Alpha announcing his incursion–seizing control of the territory with absolute authority.

I knew immediately.

Archer had arrived.

My gaze lifted before I realized it, my fingertips unconsciously treezing against my knee.

Archer stood in the aisle beside the front row.

And right beside him, it was Camille.

ENJOYING THE BOOKP