Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 176

Elara’s POV

"Absolutely not," I said, snatching the notebook from Finnian’s hands. "Let me see that."

He grinned and leaned back against the driver’s bench, letting the horses find their own pace down the main street. "Go ahead. You’re in there."

The notebook was small, leather-bound, stuffed with loose pages and dried flower petals pressed between entries. Margaret’s handwriting was precise and unapologetic. Names arranged in columns. Color codes in the margins. Little symbols I couldn’t decipher—except one.

A purple mark beside my name. With a star.

"What does purple mean?"

Finnian rubbed the back of his neck. "Purple means ’the absolute only option.’ The star means she’s already picked out a wedding venue."

I stared at him. Then at the notebook. Then back at him.

And I laughed.

Not the polite, restrained sound I’d trained myself to produce over the past few years. Not the hollow thing I offered customers at the fighting ring when they tried to make conversation. This was real. It cracked out of me like something breaking open, raw and startling and completely beyond my control.

Finnian watched me with quiet satisfaction. "There she is."

"Your mother is insane."

"My mother is thorough. There’s a difference."

I pressed the notebook against my chest, still laughing. The wind caught my hair and pulled it across my face. The cobblestones rattled beneath the wheels. Sunlight came through the canopy of elms lining the avenue, throwing shifting patterns across my lap.

For a moment—just a breath—I felt almost normal.

Finnian brought the horses to a gentle stop on Oak Street to let a merchant’s cart pass. The quiet pause gave us a moment to catch our breath, our conversation shifting to the heavy burdens we had carried over the years.

"It’s been years," I said, my voice still light but grounded in the truth of our shared struggles. "You’d think the weight of it all would get easier."

Finnian rested his arms on his knees, looking at me gently. "Does it? Get easier?"

I thought about it. Really thought.

Every morning I woke up and reached across the bed for Kaelen, longing for my former mate. Every time I passed a dark-haired boy in the market, I saw the ghost of my son, Valerius. Every night, lying alone in the silence, I wondered about Lyra. Whether she had my eyes or his smile.

Years of wondering. Years of reaching for ghosts.

"No," I admitted quietly. "It doesn’t."

Despite the weighty words, a fragile, easy peace lingered between us. I turned to look out at the street.

And I saw the awning.

Pink and white stripes. Faded at the edges from years of weather. A hand-painted sign above the door: Betty’s Bakery.

The light mood shattered instantly.

I knew that awning. I knew the exact shade of pink. I knew the little iron bench outside the door where Valerius used to sit with frosting on his nose, kicking his legs because they were too short to reach the ground.

Sunday mornings. Every single one. Kaelen would carry Valerius on his shoulders. I’d hold the door. Betty would already have our order waiting—our usual weekend treats, and whatever pastry Valerius pointed at through the glass.

The memory detonated inside my chest.

My hand found the edge of the carriage seat. I gripped it until my knuckles ached. Panic clawed at my chest, tearing it apart. My breathing went shallow—too fast, too tight, air entering my lungs in sharp little cuts that did nothing.

Not here. Not now.

"Ela."

Finnian’s voice. Close. Steady.

"Ela, look at me."

I couldn’t. The awning filled my entire field of vision. The ghost of a little boy on an iron bench—

"Elara Frostfang, look at me. Right now."

I turned. His blue eyes were calm. Anchored. Not pitying. Not worried. Just there.

"Take a deep breath," he firmly grounded me, forcing the panic to recede. "We’re not going to Betty’s. My mother ordered the cake from Miller’s bakery, a couple of blocks away."

He didn’t press further. He simply helped me down from the carriage as we decided to cover the rest of the distance on foot, steering me away from the trigger.

"For what it’s worth," he said as we walked, "you’re the strongest person I know. And I grew up wrestling barn horses."

That startled half a smile out of me. "Barn horses."

"Massive ones. Mean ones." He nudged my shoulder. "You’re worse than all of them combined."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It was one, city girl."

The short walk toward Maple Street was quiet. The street was peaceful here—residential on one side, shops on the other. A few merchants arranging outdoor displays. A woman sweeping her front steps. The kind of unhurried afternoon that belonged to people whose hearts weren’t full of shrapnel.

We were halfway down the block when I heard it.

A small sound. Hitching, uneven. The particular frequency of distress that bypasses the brain and reaches straight into the spine.

A child crying.

I stopped walking.

There—at the edge of an alley between a cobbler’s shop and a tailor’s—stood a little girl. Alone.

She was tiny. Maybe a few years old. Her ebony hair was braided into two uneven plaits, one tighter than the other, as if done by small, clumsy hands. Her dress was on backwards, the buttons showing in front. And her shoes—

One pink. One purple.

She stood perfectly still in the middle of the sidewalk, turning in a slow, confused circle. Her lower lip trembled. Fat tears rolled down round cheeks. She looked like she’d been brave for as long as she could manage, and the bravery had just run out.

"Oh no," I breathed. I was already moving. "Finnian, look—"

"I see her."

I crouched down several paces away, making myself small. Non-threatening. The way I used to with Valerius when he was overwhelmed.

"Hey there, sweetheart," I called softly as I approached to help. "Are you lost?"

The girl’s spinning stopped. She blinked through her tears, her gaze landing on me, and her face instantly lit up.

She ran.

Not away from me. To me. Full speed, arms outstretched, tiny mismatched shoes slapping against the stone. She hit my legs with the full force of her little body, wrapping both arms around my knees, pressing her face into my thigh.

Then she looked up, revealing an impossible pair of ocean-like eyes, blue and green swirling together.

Her tear-streaked face split into a radiant smile as she said the word that shattered my world:

"Mommy!"