Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 25

POV: Seraphina

The final, irrevocable line was crossed on the bleakest day of the year. The anniversary of my mother's death.

It was a day I always spent in quiet solitude, a sacred, personal ritual of remembrance. Damian knew this. In the early years of our marriage, he had always made a point to clear his schedule, to sit with me in quiet support. Now, I expected nothing but to be left alone in my grief.

Instead, I woke to the sounds of celebration.

Confused, I went downstairs to find the manor being transformed. Brightly colored banners were being hung, tables were being laden with food and wine, and musicians were setting up in the great hall. It was a party. A full-blown, joyous party.

My blood ran cold. I found Damian in the dining hall, overseeing the placement of a large ice sculpture. He was smiling, a genuine, happy smile.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice a hollow whisper.

He looked at me, his smile faltering slightly, replaced by a look of mild confusion, as if he couldn't comprehend why I wasn't sharing his festive mood. "It's a celebration. For Sylvie. I've officially appointed her to my Alpha's advisory council. It's a significant position, and it deserves to be recognized."

My mind reeled. He had forgotten. The one day of the year that was steeped in my deepest sorrow, he had completely and utterly forgotten. And he had chosen this day, of all days, to throw a lavish party for the woman who was systematically destroying me.

I couldn't speak. I just stared at him, the enormity of his callousness sucking the air from my lungs. He had not just forgotten me; he had forgotten my mother, forgotten the history and the heart of the woman he had once claimed to love.

And Damian, on the anniversary of her death, was giving it to Sylvie.

He lifted the silver rose from its box and presented it to her. She took it, her eyes shining with triumph as she looked from the rose to Damian, and then, across the crowded room, directly at me.

In that moment, watching him place the symbol of my mother in the hands of my enemy, something inside me didn't just break. It died. The love, the pain, the grief, the last vestiges of the woman who had once been his mate—it all withered and turned to ice.

All that was left was a pure, crystalline, and unforgiving hatred.

He placed the stem of the silver rose into her waiting hand.