Chapter 28 #2
“Forgive me, Alexa. By the time I heard about it, it was already too late. And Mrs. Gertrude was protected by inheritance law, so the elders ruled her innocent. They believed her story that your father was a gambler who left those debts behind. But Alpha Gabriel swore to find you.” Mr. Pascoe presses his fingers against his forehead.
I groan and cover my face with both hands. Greed hides behind polished titles and careful words. What kind of fool believes Mrs. Gertrude so easily? My father, perhaps. He married her without ever seeing the trap.
She was once one of my maids. She drew me closer to Lorraine and presented herself as trustworthy, as someone my father could rely on to watch over me. She played the role of a gentle mother, replacing the one I had lost. My father never saw that every smile was part of a careful scheme.
“The problem is, I have to repay Alpha Alastair for the money he used to buy me at that auction,” I say quietly, wrapping my arms around myself.
“We can sell one estate,” Mr. Pascoe suggests.
“I have five days left. If I fail, he’ll either attack the Silver Moon Pack or drag me back to the Blood Moon Pack. Can we close a sale that fast?” I squeeze my arms tighter.
“I can offer it to the elders. Or to Alpha Gabriel. Folks around here move quick when there’s profit on the table,” he adds in a steady, familiar tone.
A long breath leaves my lungs. Is this truly my fate? In the end, I still have to depend on someone else’s mercy, and it’s Gabriel of all the people.
“Alright. I’ll trust you to handle it,” I say at last.
With a firm nod, he gives me a few more reassuring words.
After that, he advises me on how to manage my family’s wealth, his voice steady and practical, as if we’re discussing crops before winter instead of the remnants of my father’s life.
He hands me a pen and slides several documents across the table for me to sign, the final closure of the inheritance transfer.
Beside my signature, Mrs. Gertrude’s name already etched onto the papers. She signed them long ago, hoping my absence would open the door for her.
Mr. Pascoe refused her request, citing internal pack law. I couldn’t be declared dead unless my body was found or I had been missing for more than a decade. So, he waited for six full years.
We agree to meet again tomorrow night to finalize the sale of one of my father’s estates. Once I’m certain he will secure the funds I need, he leaves with a leather bag heavy with documents and the quiet weight of responsibility.
When I step out of the library, two guards fall into place behind me. This time, there’s a flicker of relief. One major problem is finally moving toward a solution. Still, the week looms ahead, crowded with unfinished battles. Gabriel remains one of them, a storm that refuses to drift away.
The guards lead me to the dining room. Inside, Mrs. Gertrude, Lorraine, and Gabriel are already seated, waiting. They sit comfortably while I remain at the edge of the room, hesitant, as if I’m trespassing in a house that once belonged to me.
My father stepped down from his position as Alpha when his heart condition began to worsen.
For years before the accident that killed him, I focused on taking care of him and cleaning the house, while Mrs. Gertrude took control of the family business.
She said we didn’t have much money, so she couldn’t afford to hire a maid.
Since then, I’d never dined in the family dining room again. They would throw cruel remarks at me about my weak body, about how I was nothing but a burden, and about how my father would not last much longer. To avoid them, I chose to eat in the kitchen or alone in my bedroom.
So this sudden invitation feels less like kindness and more like another evil scheme.
“Come on now, Alexa. Sit and have supper with us,” Mrs. Gertrude says, rising from her chair and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder to guide me into the seat beside her, directly across from Gabriel.
“You get what you needed from Mr. Pascoe? Everything square?” Gabriel asks as the servants begin placing dishes before us.
“Not yet. I meet him again tomorrow night.” I shake my head.
“Something still out of place?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“I have to wait for Mr. Pascoe to sell one estate to gather the ransom money. Someone drained every last dollar from my father’s bank account.” I let my gaze settle deliberately on Mrs. Gertrude.
She and Lorraine shrink slightly in their seats. They seem unwilling to challenge me in front of Gabriel. Lorraine’s face grows paler with every breath.
“Let’s eat first. Then we can catch up easy,” Lorraine says, her smile stretched too tight.
“Yes, of course. I’ve prepared new clothes for you in your wardrobe,” Mrs. Gertrude adds, her enthusiasm carefully performed.
“Is that so? Which wardrobe would that be? The servant’s room where I used to stay, or my childhood room from before you arrived?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh.” Mrs. Gertrude gasps softly. Gabriel’s sharp gaze fixes on her, and she falters. “Your childhood room, naturally. You’ve only ever had that one room. Besides, Brenda needs her own space.”
Brenda, apparently, is the new maid of the Dawson household. My brows lift at the thinness of the explanation.
Gabriel must have ordered them to treat me with respect and threatened punishment at my discretion. That’s the only explanation for the sudden transformation.
From then on during our glooming supper, Mrs. Gertrude and Lorraine flinch whenever I answer with quiet sarcasm. Disbelief flashes across their faces. I’m no longer the silent girl they once cornered.
After the meal, Gabriel and I are escorted to my old room on the second floor.
Everything has been restored. The furniture stands where it once stood, as if Lorraine never claimed it.
The walls remain washed in cream and white, colors meant for a child.
Now they frame a twenty four year old woman who has seen too much.
“They’re putting on quite a show, aren’t they? I told them to give us space,” Gabriel says with a low chuckle. “Now that you’ve handled your business, reckon it’s my turn.”
“You haven’t released my friends or Mrs. Geeny,” I reply.
I turn just as he closes the door behind him. He walks toward me, arms slightly open as if he intends to pull me close. I step back, just like I have every time since I met him again.
“What exactly are you after?”
“Our marking ritual. Tomorrow,” he says, his tone no longer playful but firm, like a claim laid across open land.