Chapter 82

Nathan

The next day found me standing before the Alpha Council, the paternity results Angela had forged clutched tightly in my hand. My heart pounded against my rib cage like a war drum.

“Here,” I said, holding up the little white envelope. “The paternity test results that you so sorely needed.”

Alpha Mike’s face twisted up into a contemptuous sneer. “Let’s see it,” he said, holding out his hand.

I handed over the envelope. Mike read it first, his thick eyebrows raising high on his forehead. Without a word, he handed it over to my father.

I watched with bated breath, hoping that they wouldn’t notice that it was fake, as they all slowly passed it around and carefully scrutinized the contents.

After what felt like an eternity, the Alphas and the Elders nodded, one by one.

Their faces softened, some even murmured apologies.

“Well,” Alpha Mike said, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “It seems that the baby is, in fact, yours.”

The tension in my chest eased, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. However, from the corner of my eye, I caught my father giving me a strange look. His gaze was unreadable, a hint of suspicion creeping into his stern features.

Something about it sent a cold chill down my spine.

The Council meeting ended on a grim note, and as the Alphas left the room, I gathered my courage and approached my father.

We stood there in silence for a moment, just father and son in a room that had seen the rise and fall of many Alphas.

“Dad… what's your problem?” I finally managed to spit out, my tone coming out harsher than intended.

He looked at me, his gaze penetrating. “Pardon?” he asked.

“I saw the way that you looked at me, dad,” I said, feeling my heart pound inside my chest. “You still don’t believe me, do you? What would it take for you to finally trust your son?”

My father stood there for a moment, absentmindedly shuffling the papers in front of him from that day’s meeting. Without a word, he brushed past me, his shoulder bumping against me as he took long strides over to the door.

“Dad!” I whipped around, glaring at the back of his head. “All I want is to be taken seriously by you and the Council! When will you realize that?!”

I watched as my father froze, his tall form bristling. For a long time, he said nothing.

“Be wary of the traitor's daughter,” he finally replied, his voice cold. “She might just be using the baby to trap you. Are you prepared for that?”

Anger flared within me, a smoldering fire ignited by his words.

I had had enough of his baseless accusations, his obstinate refusal to see Olivia for who she truly was. With a deep breath, I crossed my arms and faced him.

“Why do you keep calling her father a traitor? Can't you just explain it to me once?” I snapped, my voice echoing in the empty hall. “Maybe I can understand it if you’d just tell me what really happened.”

As soon as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I realized my mistake. My father's face hardened, his eyes becoming icy.

I was not just his son in that moment; I was a member of the Council questioning his authority.

My father spun around. In three long strides, he was standing in front of me, towering over me with a dark expression on his face that was only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight.

“You will mind your status, boy!” His voice was a thunder, a storm that reverberated around the room and shook the paintings of the dead Elders that hung on the walls. I almost felt myself shrink before him, like David and Goliath.

The weight of his next words crushed me like a ton of bricks. “You are banned from council meetings for a week.”

I stood there, stunned, my mouth opening and closing as I struggled to come up with a response.

Before I could say anything, however, he turned and left me alone in the grand hall. His words, his punishment, all seemed too much to bear. I felt the burden of my actions, the enormity of my mistake.

At the same time, I felt a burning resentment growing in my chest. The secrets that my father held always eluded me, even when they seemed to be hanging right above my head. And in this backwards, traditional society, I was the one who faced punishment just for wanting answers.

My steps were heavy as I walked back home, the events of the day running in a loop in my head.

I felt defeated, my head hung low, my shoulders slumped.

As I rounded the corner onto my street, the villa slowly came into view around the bend. Its yellowed plaster walls and arched windows, gleaming with golden light from within, were like a beacon of sanctity.

At least here, in this little villa that used to fill my childhood days, I could feel safe.

The porch came into view, along with Olivia, who was seated on the swinging bench with a book in her hand. She jerked her head up as I approached and quickly set her book down, her face etched with worry.

“How did it go?” she asked, standing before I even reached the steps.

I said nothing. No words would come; I could only offer a reassuring glance as the memories of my father banning me from Council meetings, my own father treating me like I was nothing but an insolent brat, threatened to seep out.

“Nathan, what happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. Her hand shot out before I could pass, grabbing my shoulder and stopping me from going further. I froze, chewing my lip.

I shook my head, managing a weak smile. “Nothing to worry about, Liv,” I assured her, choosing not to unload my problems onto her.

With a gentle tug, I released myself from her grip and retreated inside. The house smelled sweet and warm.

“Smells good,” I said, glancing into the kitchen to see that there was another pie sitting on the wire cooling rack. “You get the baking itch again already?”

Olivia, however, stubborn as always, followed me with her arms folded across her chest.

“Talk to me, Nathan,” she insisted, her voice laced with concern. “Did they believe you or not believe you?”

I shrugged, kicking my shoes off by the door as I tried to avoid her stern hazel gaze. “They believed me,” I said, managing a weak smile. “We don’t need to worry about the baby being questioned anymore.”

Olivia let out a sharp sigh of relief. “Thank god,” she murmured, then paused, still staring intently at me. “Why do you look so glum, then? Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

For a moment, I considered telling her what my father said. But as I lifted my gaze from the floor to meet her sparkling eyes, I found that I just couldn’t do it. How could I tell her that my father saw her as a traitor who would try to trap me with a baby?

“I’m just tired,” I lied, smiling gently.

Olivia, nodding, dropped her arms back to her sides. “Want a slice of pie to lift your spirits?”

I nodded as a slow smile began to spread across my lips. My chest started to swell once more for my affection for Olivia, for the comfort that she provided when it was sorely needed.

“Yeah,” I said. “I could go for a slice of pie.”