Chapter 79 – Zander POV
I shouldn't have gone.
I knew what would happen the moment the summons came with my grandfather's seal on the envelope—tight, black wax pressed like a threat. But part of me still held onto the illusion that maybe this time would be different.
It wasn't.
The Vale estate is cold in ways that go beyond temperature. Opulence bleeds from every marble surface, but none of it feels alive. The halls are quiet, not with peace, but with control.
I walked through them like a guest, not an heir. Not a son.
My uncles barely looked at me. My cousins offered hollow greetings with too-sharp smiles. And my grandfather—he gave me the same thin-lipped scowl he always does when I walk into a room wearing freedom.
"Heard your omega's making headlines again," he said, sipping brandy like it was laced with disdain.
"Omega of the year. A model. How quaint."
I didn't respond. I never do. The more I defend Ivan, the more they'll see him as a weakness.
The meeting was short. It always is. They wanted to remind me of my responsibilities. My image. My inheritance. As if I needed the warning. As if I didn't already walk a razor's edge, balancing what I want with what they demand.
I left before dessert.
Now I'm in my car, engine idling in the parking structure beneath Vale Tower. I haven't called Ivan. I haven't answered his texts.
Not because I don't want to. Because if I hear his voice, I'll break.
He doesn't deserve the poison in my veins right now.
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles whiten, then force myself to move. To breathe. To pretend like I'm not that same kid who used to stand in the mirror and rehearse apologies for being born wrong in a family obsessed with appearances—one that thinks their shit glitters like gold.
But even as I step into the elevator, even as the doors glide shut, the ghost of my grandfather's voice follows me:
"Do you really believe you'll keep that omega, Zander? When he sees the cost of loving a Vale?"
I close my eyes.
God, I wish I hadn't gone.
I shove the thought aside and steel my spine. Work. Work will distract me.
I push through the double doors of my office. The cool air greets me like an old habit. The lights flicker on. Everything's where it should be.
I'm in control here.
At least… I can pretend I am.
*
The soft opening and closing of my office door pulls my eyes away from the screen. No knock. No announcement.
Only one person enters my office like that.
I glance up.
And there he is.
Ivan.
Standing just inside the doorway, like he owns the place—which, to be fair, emotionally, he probably does. His coat drapes off one shoulder, his hair slightly tousled like he rushed here. His eyes land on me, and whatever mask I've been wearing all morning almost slips.
He gives me a once-over. Quiet. Observing. Reading me in seconds.
"You look like you drowned in a pool of executive despair," he says lightly, but there's something careful behind the joke.
I lean back in my chair, trying not to show how much I needed to see him.
"I did. Vale-shaped pool. Very deep. No lifeguard on duty."
He hums and walks over, slower this time, like he's approaching something fragile.
Me.