The transformation in my wife's expression was instantaneous. It was almost pathetic how easily she pivoted.
"Gideon? Really?"
"One day, Ellie. That's all I'm promising."
She threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck so tightly I could barely breathe. She sobbed into my shoulders.
"Thank you," she choked out. "Oh, Goddess, thank you, Gideon. You're the best... you're the only thing I have left. I'll make it right, I promise. I'll pick someone perfect. I'll make sure the Goldbane name is safe."
I patted her back, my expression blank as I stared over her shoulder at the wall. Yes, you will, Ellie. You'll pick Marisol, and you'll thank us for the privilege of being replaced.
"Think fast about who you want," I whispered into her hair. "The Council isn't going to wait forever. Pick someone you trust. Someone who feels like... family."
I untangled myself from her embrace, giving her one final, lingering kiss on the forehead. "I need to freshen up. Vector is resuming today, and I have a mountain of work in the study. Aurelius left the accounts in a state of absolute chaos."
Elowen wiped her eyes, a small, watery smile on her lips. "Are you coming down for breakfast? I can have the kitchen make those lemon crepes you like."
"I'd love to, but first, I think I'll just discuss work with Vector first. I need to hit the ground running."
Elowen's smile almost disappeared. "Vector. Right. He's been gone for two weeks, hasn't he?"
I paused, my hand on the bathroom door. My internal alarm bells didn't just ring; they shrieked at her sharp observation.
"You're going to be cooked, Gideon." My wolf, whom I hated for being weak, tutted.
"Two weeks," Elowen repeated, her brow furrowing. "That's... that's a long time for him to be away. Especially since it started the day after my father's death. It was strange, wasn't it? He's usually so... present."
Was she… was she trying to suspect Vector might know something about her father's death right now? Heck, this Goldbane bitch seems to be growing some wings, doesn't she?
I turned, leaning against the doorframe with a casualness I didn't feel."His mother had a stroke, Ellie. I told you that."
"Did you?" she asked, her voice trailing off. "I don't remember."
"You've had a lot on your mind, sweetheart. Shock does terrible things to the memory." I flashed her a reassuring smile. "He's back now. That's all that matters. He's the only one who can help me fix the mess your father made."
"I suppose," she nodded, but the furrow in her brow didn't disappear.
"Go have your breakfast, Ellie. Dream about the future. I've got the present under control."
I shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, my heart racing.
She's getting observant, I thought, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My instincts were one of the biggest elements that got me this far. Right now, they were telling me something was going wrong… Somewhere, with my plan.
The bergamot, the questions about Vector, the way she flinched...
I turned on the shower, the roar of the water drowning out the sound of my own thoughts.
I needed Vector. I needed him to find out exactly what Jarek Ashthorne wanted with my wife. And I needed to make sure that whatever Elowen thought she saw in that "rogue" who saved her was buried under a mountain of medical gaslighting.
.
.
I stepped out of the bedroom and descended the grand staircase, every muscle in my face adjusted to the tension of a grieving, overworked Alpha.
"Good morning, Alpha Gideon," a maid murmured, dipping into a low curtsy as I passed the west gallery.
"Good morning."
I didn't look at her. An Alpha doesn't look at the help unless he's about to fire them or fuck them.
Halfway to the study, I encountered Barnaby, the head butler. He was a man in his late forties who had served the Goldbanes since he was a boy. He was a human, but he had the stiff, rigid spine of a soldier. He stood by the tall windows, checking the shine on a silver tray.
"The council's correspondence has been placed on your desk, Alpha," Barnaby said, bowing his head just the right amount. "And the kitchen is preparing the lemon crepes for the Luna. Shall I have a tray sent to the study for you as well?"
"Just black coffee, Barnaby. Thank you."
"Of course, Alpha."
I felt his eyes on my back as I walked away. Barnaby was a traditionalist and I knew that deep down, he saw me as an interloper—the Omega's son who had charmed his way into the royal bed. He was right, of course, which made his forced subservience all the more delicious.
Then, I saw her.
Marisol was coming from the opposite end of the corridor, carrying a fresh stack of linens and a tray of tea. Her eyes were downcast, but as we drew closer, the air sparked with the electricity of what we had done on that desk only hours before.
She didn't even slow down or stop, but as she brushed past me, heading toward the master suite to "serve" my wife, her scent hit me. I could literally taste the lingering spice of her skin underneath the starch of her apron on my tongue.
"Alpha," she whispered, but weighted with a filthy intimacy.
"Marisol," I acknowledged coldly for the benefit of any listening ears.
We were a masterpiece of deception. I could almost hear the applause of the devils watching us from hell. She continued on her way to play the "sister" to my broken wife, and I continued toward the study to play the king.
I entered the study and slammed the door. I didn't go to the desk. I didn't look at the council's letters. Instead, I pulled my burner phone from my pocket and dialed a number that wasn't saved in any directory.
The line rang three times before a woman's voice picked up, sounding breathless and tinny.
"Dr. Aris. I want the update. Now."
"Alpha Vexwood," she stammered, the fear evident even through the speaker.
Aris was a brilliant fertility specialist, but she was a coward. I liked cowards; they were easier to keep on a leash. "I… I was just about to call you."
"Tell me everything," I commanded, pacing the length of the rug. "Word for word. What did my wife say? How did she react to the surrogate proposal? Did she mention names?"