Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 2

POV: Seraphina

The next morning, I was the first one in the dining room. I sat at my usual place, my back ramrod straight, a cup of black coffee steaming untouched in front of me. I hadn't slept. Every creak and whisper from down the hall had been a fresh stab in my already bleeding heart. I felt hollowed out, a fragile shell of the woman who had woken up yesterday filled with so much hope. Today, all that was left was a cold, brittle anger.

They came down together.

Damian was dressed in his usual sharp suit, his powerful Alpha presence filling the room as if nothing were amiss. He didn't look at me. The woman, Sylvie, clung to his arm, her head tilted at a possessive angle. She was wearing one of my silk robes. It was a pale blue one, a gift from my father. On her, it looked obscene, a trophy she was deliberately flaunting.

Nico trailed behind them, already chattering excitedly about a game he'd played with Sylvie.

"Good morning, Seraphina," Damian said, his voice as devoid of emotion as a winter sky. He pulled out a chair for Sylvie at the table, right next to his. Opposite me. A king seating his new queen.

"Sylvie is an old friend," he continued, finally meeting my gaze with eyes as cold and hard as granite. "Her pack was attacked by rogues. She's lost everything. She'll be staying with us for a while."

An old friend. The lie was so blatant, so disrespectful, it was almost laughable.

I didn't say a word. I just stared at them, letting the silence stretch, become a weapon of its own.

The pack's housekeeper, Helga, brought in breakfast. I'd specifically asked her to make Nico's favorite—pancakes with chocolate chips, shaped like wolves. I placed a plate in front of my son, forcing a smile that felt like my face was cracking.

"Here you go, my little wolf."

"I'm so sorry, Seraphina. He just adored the almond croissants I made. A little recipe from my home. I hope you don't mind me using the kitchen."

Every word was a perfectly aimed dart. My home. My kitchen. She was already claiming her territory, and my husband was letting her. His silent approval was the loudest sound in the room. He wasn't just betraying me; he was presiding over my complete and utter erasure.

I felt a cold, hard knot form in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't an affair. This was an occupation.

Sylvie reached across the table, her fingers brushing Damian's hand as she passed him the sugar bowl.

Her eyes flicked to me for a fraction of a second as she murmured, loud enough for me to hear, "You must be exhausted, darling."