165 At The Table

Olivia’s POV

It was time for breakfast, and as much as I wanted to stay in bed, I knew attending was mandatory. So, to maintain appearances, I asked Nora and Lolita to help me dress in one of my best outfits—a black embroidered fitted gown. My dyed-blonde hair was pulled into a neat bun to showcase my earrings and neck accessories.

Once dressed, I took a deep breath and headed out with them. The walk to the dining hall felt long, though it wasn't. Each step felt heavy, as if the walls whispered memories of all I had endured. But I kept my chin up.

The guards bowed respectfully as we approached. I ignored them and entered.

As expected, the triplets were already seated. The moment I entered, all three turned to look at me. Silence fell across the room. I kept my face blank, refusing to show any emotion—no anger, no pain, nothing. They didn't deserve to know what I felt.

"Good morning," Alpha Lennox said first.

I gave a slight nod. "Morning."

Alpha Levi and Alpha Louis watched me, their eyes searching for any sign of softness. I shot them a glare and looked away. I walked to the far end of the table and sat down. Lady Fiona was already seated; when our eyes met, she quickly looked away. Good.

Servants began placing plates before us, filling the table with food I had no appetite for.

Just then, Alpha Damien arrived and sat beside me. I felt awkward and swallowed hard, but he remained calm. Unexpectedly, he leaned into my neck and inhaled deeply, then groaned.

"Fuck! You smell so good."

My lips parted in shock as I turned to look at him, but he only smirked and focused on his plate. Feeling piercing gazes on me, I looked around—and the first eyes I met were Levi's. His cool, sea-blue gaze was locked on mine, sharp and full of anger. But there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Regret? I couldn't tell, and frankly, I didn't care. I knew Lennox and Louis were watching too, but I didn't care.

I looked away and picked up my fork, ignoring the fury and tension settling across the table like a heavy storm cloud. I hadn't asked for this drama, and I wasn't going to participate.

But, of course, Alpha Damien wasn't finished. He picked up a sausage, turned to me with a smirk, and said softly, holding it out as if to feed me, "Here. Just one bite." He moved it towards my mouth as a romantic gesture.

Before I could refuse, a low, angry growl cut through the air—Levi's.

"She doesn't eat that," he snapped, his voice echoing. "If you're trying to be romantic with your nephew's wife, maybe learn something about her first."

The table fell silent. Damien raised an eyebrow and slowly retracted the sausage. "You're right," he said lightly. "After all, she will be having my child soon. I need to know things about her."

Those words enraged Levi further. He stared at Damien, his eyes full of fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed he was about to shift into his wolf.

I sat frozen, feeling like a prize in a fight I hadn't asked to join. Damien, clearly unsatisfied with the chaos he'd created, scooped up a spoonful of mashed cheese and turned to me again with a teasing smile.

"I believe you'll like this," he said softly. Then, as if we were alone, he raised the spoon toward my lips.

I blinked, confused. Was he really trying to feed me? To cause more chaos?

Before I could react, Lennox slammed his fist on the table, making plates rattle and cutlery jump.

"Enough!" he barked, his voice sharp and laced with rage. His blazing eyes were fixed not on me, but on Damien.

Everyone froze. Even the servants halted mid-step. Louis clenched his jaw but said nothing. Levi's eyes never left me.

Sir Damon, who had been silent, slowly stood. He didn't yell or slam the table like his son. Instead, his voice was calm. "Alpha Lennox, sit down."

Lennox's chest heaved. His fists were still clenched, but he obeyed, roughly dragging his chair back before sitting.

"This will be settled in the council," Sir Damon said, loud enough for all to hear. "Not here. Not now."

I glanced between them, my confusion growing. Settled in the council? What was being settled? What did this have to do with me?

I turned slightly toward Damien, who noticed my confusion. His smirk faded, replaced by a calmer expression as he leaned closer. His voice was low, for my ears only. "They didn't tell you, huh?"

I shook my head. "Tell me what?"

Damien's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the triplets, then back at me. "In a week, the council is meeting to decide your fate… and mine."

My frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

Alpha Damien shrugged. "The triplets have reported me to the council. From what I gathered, they accused me of wanting to take their mate and wife, so the first hearing is next Monday," he explained.

I swallowed hard, picked up a glass of juice, and gulped it down.

"Easy, before you choke," Alpha Damien said—not teasingly, but with concern.

I set the glass down and darted my eyes toward the triplets, who were now glaring daggers at Damien.

I looked back at Damien. "So?"

He smiled and leaned closer to my ear… his hot breath fanning my skin.

"We'll talk about this later," he whispered in a deep, husky voice, then pulled away and returned to his food.

Alpha Damien ate casually, as though he hadn't just leaned into my neck as if he owned me. As though he hadn't made a sound that sent unwanted shivers down my spine.

I shifted slightly, trying to put distance between us, but he only smirked, knowing the effect he had on me.

Damn it. What's happening to me? Get a hold of yourself, Olivia… this man is your husband's uncle. This is a game. Remember that. Remember!

I caught Lady Fiona watching me with curious eyes, as though trying to understand what was happening between me and Damien. Then my gaze flicked back to Levi—he was gripping his fork so tightly, his knuckles were white. His jaw was clenched, his gaze burning into Damien's side as if he were about to attack.

I reached for my water and sipped quietly, not bothering to eat. I had no appetite. Not for food. Not for small talk. And definitely not for more drama.

When I set the glass down, Damien suddenly stood.

"I have a few things to handle," he said, dusting crumbs off his lap. Then he leaned down again, so close his lips almost grazed my ear. "Try not to miss me too much."

And just like that, he walked off—completely ignoring the brewing storm around the table.

After he left, I took a deep breath and picked up my spoon, trying to eat. But I couldn't. My stomach felt sick.

Without a word, I pushed back my chair. The noise echoed in the quiet room. "Excuse me," I said softly, still avoiding everyone's gaze. I stood and walked out. I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn't care. I just kept walking.

My steps took me to the garden. I needed air. I needed space to think. To breathe.

The moment I stepped outside, the cool air brushed against my face. I breathed in the sweet scent of flowers and felt a little better. The birds were singing, and everything felt calm.

But suddenly, I felt a familiar pressure behind me, and even without turning around, I knew who it was.

With a frown, I turned to face him. "Are you following me?"