The Alpha King is unavailable novel Chapter 140

of control.

“You can look now,” I said when I finished.

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Ethan turned, something clutched carefully in his hands. My breath caught when I recognized

Lily’s mug, painstakingly pieced back together.

“I spent the night repairing it,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I know it doesn’t

make up for what I did, but I wanted to try.”

He held it out to me, the cracks visible but the mug whole again. The childish drawing of our

family–a family that never truly existed–made my heart ache.

“Olivia, about Lily’s birthday…” Ethan began, his amber eyes earnest. “I didn’t intentionally miss it. There was an emergency with Emma at the Silvercrest Pack Medical Den. Dr. Rivers diagnosed a spleen injury requiring immediate blood transfusion.”

My hands trembled as I took the mug from him.

“I should have been there for Lily,” he continued. “I know that now. It won’t happen again.”

His words, meant to appease, only deepened my pain. The authority in his voice–an Alpha

making a solemn vow–meant nothing. It was too late for promises.

“Won’t happen again?” I repeated, my voice dangerously quiet. “She’s dead, Ethan. Our daughter is dead.”

Something snapped inside me. With a sudden movement, I hurled the mug against the wall.

The sound of breaking ceramic echoed my broken heart as it shattered once more.

“Ethan Stone, you’re not worthy!” I declared, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to

fall.

I walked out, leaving him stunned amidst the shards of Lily’s final gift.

(Matriarch Evelyn’s POV)

The morning air carried the scent of moonflowers as my car approached the Sacred

Moonlight Cemetery. After three months at the ancient temple retreat, I felt refreshed, my

spirit renewed by the sacred rituals and meditation.

“We’ve arrived, Matriarch,” Bernard Sheppard announced, opening my door with the dignified

efficiency that had characterized his decades of service to our family.

“Thank you, Bernard,” I replied, accepting his arm as I stepped from the vehicle. “I won’t be

long. Just a brief visit to pay my respects to old friend Matilda.”

The cemetery was peaceful, bathed in soft morning light. I made my way to Matilda’s grave, my old bones protesting slightly at the exertion. After placing fresh moonflowers on her

resting place and saying a brief prayer, I turned to leave.

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Another memory flashed–a family gathering at the Stone Estate. A little girl with emerald eyes, perhaps two or three years old, running to me with arms outstretched.

the one on the tombstone.