To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 231

Chapter 231

Celeste’s POV

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“So you are telling me that you-” Celeste’s voice shook as she pushed back from the table so fast her chair scraped the floor. She stared at William like her eyes could force him to take it back. “You are my father?”

William did not flinch. He did not look embarrassed, and he did not look guilty. He looked like a man who had carried this truth for so long that it had stopped feeling like a secret and started feeling like a tool.

“The Alpha knows,” William said.

“This is not something that you can just…” Celeste took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “How could you say something so-

Celeste blinked, her mouth parting slightly. She waited for him to explain, because the sentence did not make sense on its own. She needed it to be a lie, but William did not speak like a liar when he was in control. That was what made her stomach twist.

“It was Collin who asked for it,” William continued. “He discovered he had been poisoned, and the poison damaged him in ways he could not reverse. He could no longer have a child, and he refused to let the bloodline end with him.”

Celeste’s brows pulled together as if her face could fight the words. She had known for years that Atasha was not Collin’s daughter because Luna Genevieve had told her that much in private. Celeste had grown up with that knowledge tucked away like a weapon she might need one day. That part was not shocking.

This was.

Her lips trembled as a new thought hit her, and it hit her hard enough that she had to grab the edge of the table to steady herself.

“Did my mother know?” Celeste asked, and her voice sounded smaller than she liked. “Did she know you were… the one?”

“At first, she didn’t,” William said. “Then she did.”

Celeste’s throat tightened. She did not ask how. She did not ask when. She did not ask whether Genevieve had cried or begged or threatened, because none of that mattered as much as the fact that her mother had known and still raised her under Collin’s roof while letting her believe she was safe.

She picked up her tea and drank too much too quickly, like the Heat could burn the panic out of her chest. It did not work. She poured more. She drank again, slower this time, trying to breathe between sips as if breathing could make her think straight.

Then she looked at William again, eyes narrowed, and asked the one question that held everything else inside it.

“Why would Father do that?” Celeste demanded. “Why would he choose you?”

“He did it because he did not want to pass the Alpha position to is younger brother,” William said. “He did not want his brother’s line inheriting Nightfall if Collin fell. He wanted the position stable, and he wanted an heir who would keep the pack in his control even if he became weak.”

Celeste stiffened as the name formed in her mind. The younger brother. The uncle she barely remembered.

The memory that came was not clear, because she had been four when he died, and four–year–olds did not collect details the way adults did. She remembered a man with a big hand lifting her once, a voice that sounded warm, and a scent she could not place now because time had buried it under everything else. She remembered the pack mourning, then moving on. She remembered that nobody talked about him anymore after a few years, like grief had an expiration date.

“He died outside the borders,” Celeste said, almost to herself. “Fighting the Demon Fangs.”

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Chapter 231

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“Your uncle was a strong wolf,” William nodded. “But he is mercess. He would kill innocents for the sake of the werewolves. He is a very… ruthless man. That’s why your father didn’t want him leading the pack.”

Celeste’s eyes sharpened. She heard stories about how cruel herncle was.

“Do you think…” Celeste’s words dragged, because she hated the thought even as it came. “Do you think my uncle poisoned him?”

“Collin suspected,” William said. “We were never able to confirm it, but he believed his brother might have been working with the Demon Fangs before he died.”

Celeste’s eyes widened so fast it hurt. Her fingers curled around the cup, and her nails scraped porcelain.

“That’s impossible,” she said, but she did not sound convinced. “If he died fighting them-”

“That is exactly why it worked,” William replied. “If you die on the battlefield, nobody questions your loyalty. Nobody digs into what you were doing before you died.”

Celeste’s mouth went dry. She tried to speak again, but what came out sounded broken.

“Do you think he is still…” She could not finish it because the idea was too stupid and too terrifying at the same time.

William nodded once, and he did not soften it for her.

“Yes,” William said. “I believe he might still be alive, and I believe he has served the Demon Fangs for a long time. That is why we cannot reveal who you really are, and that is why you cannot afford mistakes.”

Celeste stood there, frozen, while her mind sprinted ahead of her body. If her uncle was alive and tied to the Demon Fangs, then everything in the pack’s history could be a lie. It meant betrayal was not outside the walls. It meant betrayal had been inside the bloodline itself. It meant someone could claim Nightfall and rip it apart from the inside because the pack would not see it coming.

And then Atasha’s face appeared in her mind, sitting by the balcony with food laid out like she belonged there, speaking calmly as if she had not been the pack’s discarded daughter just days ago.

Atasha had looked at Collin and called out a slow poison in minutes.

Atasha had done that.

Celeste’s jaw clenched.

William watched her expression shift, and he stepped in with the next push, because he knew exactly where to press.

“Lady Atasha… must have discovered your father’s infertility and is probably suspecting your parentage, perhaps, she might have suspected hers as well.”

Celeste’s chest rose sharply.

“She is not my father’s daughter!” Celeste snapped. “She has no aim here.”

William’s gaze stayed on her face.“Do you think everyone she heals will care about that?” William asked.

Celeste’s throat tightened like something had lodged inside it. Se tried to swallow, but the feeling stayed.

“The North treats her like a miracle,” he said. “They treat her like she is chosen, like she is above ordinary rules, like she belongs on an altar. If she heals your people the way she healed hem, then your pack will start looking at her the same way.”

Celeste’s mind immediately filled with images she did not want outside the mansion, staring at Atasha with desperate eyes. She

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ut could not stop. She pictured the injured wolves lined up

ctured them whispering her name like it was prayer. She

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Chapter 231

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pictured council members bowing lower than they ever bowed for Celeste. She pictured the elders nodding at Atasha as if she had been rightful all along.

She pictured herself standing beside Atasha and realizing she was not the center of the room anymore.

She pictured the south falling in love with Atasha’s hands, with asha’s healing, with Atasha’s calm voice, and none of them caring that she was not Collin’s blood because blood did not matter when people were scared and bleeding.

Then her thoughts got worse, because fear always turned into something uglier inside her.

She imagined Atasha using that influence like a chain. She imagined Atasha smiling softly while deciding who lived and who waited. She imagined Atasha placing northerners at every corridor and claiming it was for protection, while slowly turning Nightfall into a territory that answered to Cassian.

She imagined Grace’s cold stare becoming the law.

She imagined northern guards telling Nightfall wolves where they could walk inside their own home.

She imagined herself being forced to smile and accept it because refusing would make her look selfish, and everyone would already be in love with Atasha’s gift.

Celeste’s breathing turned uneven as she stared at William. The thought made her shiver.

“She could take the pack,” Celeste whispered.

“She could,” William agreed. “And she would not need to fight for it. She would only need to heal, and the pack would hand it to her willingly because they will call it gratitude instead of surrender.”

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