The Alpha's Rejected But Defiant Fated Mate

ALLEGRA RIDDLE'S POV:

I did not let my steps slow. I walked quickly back to my chambers until the door clicked shut behind me. I let out a breath of relief, then pulled open the bottom drawer of my writing desk.

Inside was a small, rosewood box, intricately carved with vines and leaves.

Holly and Mrs. Gable knocked and entered, their faces etched with worry. "My lady, you can't be serious!" Holly cried, her voice a pained whisper. "You can't just accept this!"

"I had no choice," I said, my voice flat. "Fighting him would have been pointless. He would have used his Alpha command, forcing me to agree. It is a known power of an Alpha over his pack, especially his mate. Better to agree on my own terms than to be broken to his will in front of everyone."

Mrs. Gable nodded slowly, her sharp eyes assessing me. She was a strategic thinker, not just a governess. "A strategic retreat. Wise. But what is your next move, my lady?"

"I don't know. I think I need to be alone," I said, my hand resting on the rosewood box.

They shared a look but respectfully withdrew, closing the door softly behind them.

I lifted the lid. Inside, tied with a faded blue ribbon, was a stack of letters. Hundreds of them.

My letters. The ones I wrote to Carson over the five years he was at war. Letters filled with longing, with hope, with the desperate love of a fated mate for the man who barely knew she existed.

I picked one up at random. My own handwriting swam before my eyes. *My dearest Carson, Today the first snow fell... I thought of you, and prayed to the Goddess to keep you warm...*

Another asked if he still remembered my face. Another told him I would wait, no matter how long.

Every one ended with "Your Allegra." Every one had gone unanswered.

A wave of self-disgust washed over me, so strong it felt like bile rising in my throat. How could I have been so naive? So foolish? Pouring my heart out to a man who was finding comfort in another woman's arms.

Suddenly, a commotion came from downstairs. A maid's frantic voice, then Carson's sharp, commanding tone.

I moved to the door, cracking it open just enough to hear. Holly was in the hall, her ear pressed to the air.

"What is it?" I mouthed to her.

Holly scurried over. "It's the new lady, Finley," she whispered. "She's feeling unwell. Dizzy spells. The Alpha is in a panic."

I heard Carson's heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs and past my door, heading towards the Blue Room. He didn't hesitate. He didn't even glance in my direction. My existence was an inconvenience he had already forgotten.

The door to his mistress's room opened and closed, and the sound of his concerned voice faded away. That sound was the final nail in the coffin of my dead love. He had his priority. It was not me.

I turned back to the rosewood box. My resolve hardened into something sharp and unbreakable.

It suddenly occurred to me--the ring on Finley's hand. My mother's ring, on that woman's finger.

I gathered the box in my arms and walked to the fireplace. A small fire was already crackling there, meant to ward off the evening chill.

I untied the blue ribbon. It felt like severing the final thread of a bond that was only ever real for me.

One by one, I took the letters, my letters, and dropped them into the flames.

I didn't read them. I didn't need to. I knew their pathetic, hopeful contents by heart.

The paper curled, blackened, and turned to ash. The ink, filled with my dreams, vanished into smoke.

I felt a strange sense of liberation. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It felt... clean. I was burning the old Allegra. The weak, hopeful, loving fool. The woman who rose from these ashes would be someone else entirely.

I watched until the very last letter was gone, the rosewood box now empty on the floor beside me.

When Holly and Mrs. Gable returned later, they found me sitting calmly by the fire, the empty box beside me.

Holly gasped when she realized what I'd done. "My lady... all your letters..."

"He was never worthy of them," I said, my voice steady. "And I will not waste another thought on him."

Mrs. Gable looked from the empty box to my face, and a slow, understanding smile touched her lips. She saw the change in me. "What will you do now?" she asked, her tone serious.

"Now," I said, standing up and brushing a speck of ash from my dress, "I survive. And I will make sure he understands exactly what he has thrown away."

I walked to my writing desk and opened the ledger Holly had brought back. On the first page, Finley's name had already been circled in red cinnabar.

"Tomorrow," I said, "we start checking the accounts."