<h4>Chapter 34: Chapter 34 He Had Chosen Me.</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    The dinner party wrapped up.


    Sebastian emerged looking perfectly sober—piercing eyes clear, stride steady. But when he handed us the room card and told us to take care of the check, Beta Sawyer and I exchanged nces. Our Alpha was definitely drunk.


    Amara seemed more put-together tonight than yesterday. She hurried to Sebastian’s side on quick, dainty steps, tugging at his arm with familiar ease that made my wolf go crazy inside me.


    "Want toe to my ce?" she purred. "I have that whiskey you like."


    "No." Sebastian’s rejection was immediate, clipped—the single syble leaving no room for negotiation. That was pure Alpha attitude—short, direct, absolute.


    We continued down the corridor, the tension still thick in the air.


    Then it happened.


    Sebastian’s boot caught on a raised edge of the carpet. His bnce shifted.


    Before Beta Sawyer or I could react, Amara stepped forward, already positioned like she’d been waiting for exactly this. Arms slightly outstretched, her expression carefullyposed.


    He was about to fall straight into her.


    But instead—his hand shot backward. It caught my wrist.


    No warning whatsoever.


    One second I was walking behind him, the next—I was airborne. Yanked forward with such force that my heels barely touched the floor.


    I collided with Amara. Hard.


    She stared at me.


    And I saw something raw in her eyes. Furious. Wounded.


    He had pulled me between them.


    He had chosen—me.


    She stepped back. Slowly. Her jaw tight, spine rigid, hands clenched at her sides.


    Then she turned and walked away without a word, her heels echoing down the corridor like bullets.


    I stood frozen.


    Still catching my breath. Still processing.


    Three days into this job, and I’d just been used as a shield—by an Alpha. Against another wolf.


    And I had no idea what that meant.


    Back in the car, I noticed a sharp pain in my knee. Looking down, I saw an ugly purple bruise forming, dotted with tiny blood spots where I’d collided with Sebastian’s leg. Werewolf bones might as well be steel. My fair, delicate skin always bruised easily, but this looked especially nasty.


    Sebastian sat beside me, eyes closed, one hand supporting his head. His face was peaceful, almost serene in the dim light of the car—like he hadn’t just used me as a human shield minutes earlier. He appeared to be sleeping.


    At the hotel, I tried saying his name several times. No response.


    He was truly drunk, then.


    Beta Sawyer and a male hotel attendant struggled to help him to his room. All six-foot-three of pure Alpha werewolf muscle—they were both dripping sweat by the time they managed it.


    "How’s your knee?" Beta Sawyer asked when he emerged from the bedroom, his sharp eyes immediately catching my injury. "You should ice that." His concern seemed genuine.


    "I’ll ice it in my room," I replied.


    "Go ahead. I’ve got this covered."


    I nodded. "Okay."


    At the door, I paused and turned back. "You should go with the Alpha to the summit tomorrow. I won’t show up in the morning. The factory is on Jurong Ind in the west—pretty far. I want to leave early so I can get back sooner."


    "Sounds good," Beta Sawyer agreed. "Hit me up if you need anything."


    I said okay and left.


    Back in my room, I took a shower and settled into the armchair with ice for my knee. The moment I pressed it against the bruise, I winced.


    Yet somehow, as the pain pulsed, I found myselfughing. How crazy my situation was hit me all at once.


    This trip—supposedly a working distraction from my divorce—was turning out to be quite the ride. Staying busy was good. It kept me from thinking about Denver and everything I’d left behind.


    I wondered what was happening there now.


    Author’s pov


    Denver, 9 p.m.


    Rain drummed steadily against the windows of Harper’sw office, the city outside wrapped in darkness and cold. Low clouds pressed down over the skyline, casting the world in heavy, crushing gloom.


    Alpha Xavier sat across from her, the picture of aristocratic control—immactely tailored in charcoal gray, his features sharp, unreadable.


    Harper didn’t bother hiding her disdain.


    "I thought you’d act heartbroken a little longer," she said coolly. "But I suppose this way is better. The sooner you get your act together, the sooner we can wrap up the paperwork."


    She pushed the divorce agreement across the table.


    Xavier picked it up, fingers slow and deliberate. He flipped to thest page, pausing at his own signature. Dated a month ago—back when he’d just returned from Switzend.


    Harper saw the recognition in his eyes. He was remembering.


    Cecilia had brought him those papers herself—smiling calmly, talking about work. She hadn’t flinched. Not once.


    "The waiting period is over," Harper said. "Once Cecilia returns, you’ll both go to city hall. It’ll be done."


    Xavier said nothing.


    "She asked me to remind you," Harper added, her voice sharper than a knife, "that if you try to screw her over on thepensation, she’s prepared to fight—until the bitter end. Your little mistress was pretty generous with the evidence. I doubt either of you want another charity g incident."


    Under the table, Xavier’s hands clenched. The edges of the contract crumpled in his grip.


    "When did she find out?" he asked roughly.


    Harper’s temper went off.


    "Oh, now you care?" she snapped. "Now you want to feel guilty?"


    She leaned forward.


    "Did you feel guilty when you slept with Cici? When you swept her off to Switzend for a romantic getaway? When you held her hand and made those ridiculous heart shapes at sunrise for your little photo op?"


    Xavier didn’t move.


    Harper kept going, her voice cutting like ss.


    "How long has it been since you came home? Since you sat down and ate a meal with your mate like a husband should?"


    "You promised to take her to see the Northern Lights in d. Instead, you lied—told her you had a business trip, then took your mistress instead."


    "She knows everything, Xavier."


    "She couldn’t sleep for weeks. Survived on sleeping pills just to get through the night. And yet she kept showing up at work like nothing was wrong. The only time she broke down, she cried for hours. I’ve known her since we were kids. I’ve never seen her like that."


    Harper’s voice shook, but she didn’t stop.


    "She gave up everything for you. Do you remember that?"


    "And you destroyed her."


    "She’s not divorcing you because she’s weak, Xavier. She’s doing it because she’s strong enough to walk away without making a scene."


    "She sold everything. Even the wedding ring. Burned your wedding photos right in front of you—to remind herself never to look back."


    Harper paused. Her voice dropped, quieter, but just as brutal.


    "I’m not telling you this to mess with you. I’m telling you because she’s noting back. If there’s anything left in you that looks like a man, you’ll give her the final shred of dignity she deserves."


    Silence fell.


    Then Xavier doubled over, like something had snapped inside him.


    A growl tore from his throat—low, animal, broken.


    And then he shredded the divorce papers to pieces.


    "I won’t divorce her," he snarled, eyes shing gold.


    "Says who I don’t love her?" he shouted. "I love her! I love her! I love her!"


    Harper stared at him.


    And for the first time in all the years she’d known him...


    She wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her—


    Or himself.