Chapter 112

Grayson’s POV

Elaine didn't give me a chance to speak or explain. She turned and fled my study, her footsteps echoing down the hall. I cursed under my breath, frustration and dread twisting in my chest. Liam, who had been sitting across from me, rose, concern etched on his face.

“Stay here,” I snapped, my voice sharp. “I’ll handle this.”

Without waiting for a response, I pushed through the door and into the dimly lit corridor. Elaine was already disappearing around the corner, moving with a desperation that cut me deeper than I cared to admit.

“Elaine!” I called, but she didn't stop.

I sighed wearily, knowing I was about to make things worse, but having no other choice. The weight of my Alpha aura rolled over the space between us, commanding her to stop. “Stop, Elaine,” I said firmly, my tone brooking no defiance.

Her steps faltered; her body froze. Her shoulders were rigid, her back to me as she stood motionless in the hallway. I didn't relish using my authority, but there was no other way to make her listen. Slowly, I closed the distance until I was a few feet away.

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady but hollow. “I started the fire that night. But I didn’t intend for it to kill your parents or my mother. Things spiraled out of control.”

The admission hung heavy between us, like a boulder dropped into a bottomless chasm. Her shoulders stiffened further, and when she finally turned, her eyes were brimming with tears, pain, and fury.

“Just how inhuman have you become, Grayson?” Her voice trembled, each word sharper than the last. “You were responsible for that night, and you don’t even feel remorse? After all these years of lying to me?”

“Elaine—”

“No!” she cut me off, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. “That night, I watched my father burn. Do you have any idea how many nightmares I’ve had? How broken that moment made me? And you… you wake up every day and act like it’s my fault—when you did this, Grayson!”

She shoved me, her hands pressing against my chest with more force than I expected. It didn’t move me physically, but the impact of her words hit far harder than any physical blow.

“You ruined my childhood!” she cried, her voice cracking. “You made me… this… you made me believe I needed to be just as broken to avoid feeling alone! And then you act like taking me in was some kind of favor, as if I wouldn’t be this way if it weren’t for you!”

Her tears streamed freely, smudging her makeup as she wiped at her face. It was heartbreaking, leaving me utterly powerless. I wanted to say something—anything—that could make it better, but there was nothing. Nothing I could say or do would undo what I had done.

It was one of the reasons I had Maria suppress my memories. I hated what I’d done to her, hated how I’d destroyed her life. And yet, I couldn’t find the words to make amends. So, I stayed silent, my numbness and bleakness filling the void.

“Fifteen years, Grayson,” she continued, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “Fifteen years of lies. That’s why you did nothing that night, isn’t it? I knew you were a bad person, but I didn’t know you were this evil.”

Her words were a knife twisting in my chest, but I didn’t flinch. Everything she said was true, and there was no point in denying it.

“You are…” she paused, her voice breaking.

“You are… a monster.”

And that’s when I saw it—the full extent of the damage. She wasn’t just angry or grieving. She was broken. Completely and utterly broken. And it was my fault.

Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I murmured, my voice low and strained.

For a moment, she didn’t resist. She cried against my chest, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching. She was saying something—words I couldn’t make out—but the pain was unmistakable. It was the sound of someone carrying too much for too long.

Then, like a spark igniting, she pulled away, her expression hardening. “Don’t touch me, Grayson,” she said, her voice icy. “Even if you didn’t mean for it to happen, how can you spend all these years acting high and mighty, as if I’m the problem, when you—” She broke off, breathing deeply. “When you made me this way?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished.

“And even after everything, you bring that commoner here.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “You continuously belittle me because I am this way, even though you’re the one who made me like this. And still, you choose her, over and over.”

Her words slammed into me, and I froze, realizing where this was going.

“You want to make this right?” she demanded, her eyes burning with desperation and fury. “Then tell her to leave.”

The ultimatum hung heavy and suffocating. My wolf growled, repulsed by the idea. Ava was… she was everything I didn’t deserve but somehow had. She was light to my darkness, hope to my despair. And yet, looking at Elaine—her tear-streaked face, her trembling lips—I knew what I had to do.

“Fine,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. “I’ll ask her to leave. Ava Pierce means nothing to me.”

The words tasted bitter, but I forced myself to say them. The moment they left my lips, I felt a gut-wrenching sensation, like a part of me had been ripped away.

And then, I felt it—her presence.

I turned sharply, my wolf picking up the faint sound of retreating footsteps. My heart sank.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

I started to move, my instincts urging me to follow her, but Elaine’s voice stopped me.

“If you go after her,” she said, her tone low and threatening, “I swear on the Moon Goddess’s name, you will lose the only family you have left. I will leave, and I’ll never come back.”

I froze, torn between impossible choices. My wolf urged me to follow Ava, to fix this before it was too late. But deep down, I knew what I had to do.

Elaine was my family. She was broken because of me, and I owed her this.

So, I stayed. I let Ava go.

The sound of her footsteps faded, and a hollow emptiness settled over me. My wolf howled, but I silenced it, steeling myself against the pain.

Ava and I were never meant to be. She wanted a life I couldn’t give her, and maybe it was better this way—ending things now instead of prolonging the inevitable.

Still, standing in the dim hallway, watching Elaine wipe away her tears, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just lost something irreplaceable.