Chapter 50: Chapter 50 Accept the Offer
Seraphina’s POV
Morning light crept through the bedroom curtains, pulling me from restless sleep. Another day stretched ahead of me, and the thought made my stomach twist with dread.
I pushed myself out of bed, bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. A strange sense of stillness had settled over me during the night, like the calm before a storm.
The smell of fresh coffee and something sweet drifted up from the kitchen. I made my way downstairs, my footsteps soundless against the tile.
Julian sat at the breakfast table, a stack of golden pancakes on the plate before him. When he saw me enter, his lips curved into a tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
"Good morning," he said, his voice gentler than it had been in days. Here we go again, I thought. Back to his old tricks of trying to win me over with sweet gestures, hoping I’d forget everything that had happened.
I paused in the doorway. "Morning. Shouldn’t you be in meetings right now?" My voice came out neutral, though his presence caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected to find him here, much less with breakfast prepared.
Something flickered across his face, like he’d been waiting for a different response. Disappointment, maybe. But I kept my expression blank, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.
"I called them off," he said, his tone becoming smoother. "Cleared my entire schedule. I thought we could spend the day together."
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Part of me, a tiny piece I tried to ignore, felt touched by the gesture. Which was exactly what he was counting on. He’d been pulling this routine for days now.
"That sounds nice," I said, moving toward the coffee pot. "But I already have plans."
I took a seat and cut into the pancakes. They were perfect, light and fluffy, but I barely tasted them. Julian hadn’t touched his food. Instead, he stared at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
I tried to ignore him, but the weight of his gaze became unbearable. Finally, I set my fork down with more force than necessary. "What?"
He drew in a slow breath. "I know I screwed up," he started, his voice dropping to that earnest tone I’d heard too many times before. "And I want to apologize for—"
"Julian, please." I cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. "Just stop."
But he kept going, words spilling out about explanations and second chances and how sorry he was. Each word felt like a knife scraping against my already bleeding heart.
"Julian, stop!" The words exploded out of me, echoing off the kitchen walls. My voice cracked with all the frustration I’d been swallowing down for weeks. "Aren’t you exhausted from constantly apologizing? Because I’m exhausted from hearing it. Can’t I just eat breakfast without this?"
The fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, he looked genuinely broken. Good, I thought viciously. Now he knows how I feel.
I picked up my fork and finished eating in crushing silence. When I was done, I carried both our plates to the sink. He’d barely touched his food.
As I scrubbed the dishes, I felt him hovering behind me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
"You know," he began again, that pleading note creeping back into his voice. "You promised you’d give me a chance. You said you’d give me a mont—"
I shut off the water and turned around, drying my hands slowly. "I haven’t forgotten," I said, each word sharp and clear. "That’s why I’m still in this house. But it doesn’t mean I have to put up with you suffocating me every time I try to function."
I walked past him without another glance, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen with his regret and unfinished apologies. Back in my room, I closed the door and leaned against it, finally able to breathe again.
By the time I emerged, dressed and ready to face the day, Julian was waiting by the front door. The desperate hope in his eyes made my chest tighten, but I pushed the feeling away.
"What’s on your agenda today?" he asked, studying my face like he could read my intentions there.
"The usual," I replied flatly. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, "Don’t worry. I won’t be anywhere near your mother. Or Roxanne."
He opened his mouth to respond, probably to launch into another explanation or plea, but I was already walking away. My steps carried me toward the pack house while doubt gnawed at my insides. Was I making the right choice? Was walking away from whatever remained between us the answer?
But then I remembered the suffocating loneliness that followed me everywhere in this place. The way tears came without warning, how I felt like I was drowning in my own misery every single day. That couldn’t be normal. That couldn’t be love.
I knew Alpha Dorian had his own agenda. I wasn’t naive enough to believe it was coincidence that he kept appearing in my life. But right now, his motives didn’t matter. What mattered was getting myself out of this situation.
The pack house loomed ahead, its stone facade imposing against the morning sky. I walked straight to Alpha Dorian’s office and knocked, the sound sharp in the empty hallway.
The door swung open, revealing Dorian’s surprised face. But when he saw my expression, understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something that looked suspiciously like triumph.
"Seraphina," he said, his smile warm and welcoming. "Come in."
I shook my head firmly. "Thank you, Alpha Dorian, but I’d rather not. People might get the wrong impression." I met his gaze directly. "I’m here because I’ve decided to accept your offer."
