Free Web NovelChapter 41: Chapter 41 The Joke Writes Itself
Sylvia’s POV
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the edge of a familiar coat.
Zane.
He hadn’t left?
Our eyes met for a second before he stepped out of the shadows, jaw tight, venom in his glare.
"Well, well," I drawled, arms folded. "Isn’t this the great Alpha Zane? Didn’t you already flee the ballroom with your tail between your legs?"
"You smug little bitch," he spat, his gaze flicking toward Caesar with a mixture of contempt and dread.
Even standing here again, he couldn’t ignore the oppressive aura radiating off Caesar—silent, watchful, dominant. But Zane still puffed up like he had something to prove.
"What? Think finding yourself a pretty-boy sugar daddy means you can challenge Thorn Pack?" he sneered. "Don’t flatter yourself, Sylvia. As long as you’re in Howling Peaks, you’ll never win. Let’s see who’s smiling when the dust settles."
I gave a smile as cold as the mountain wind. "Couldn’t agree more. Let’s see who laughs last, Alpha."
Caesar’s hand closed around mine, the subtle warning in his eyes making my stomach flip—not from fear, but because I knew exactly what he was thinking.
How had I ever wasted three years on this... this loud little parasite?
Zane’s fists clenched at his sides. His eyes flicked over us, two silhouettes standing together in total composure. Rage twisted his features. I saw it—envy, resentment, confusion. All tangled up in his petty little ego.
And maybe... regret.
But it didn’t matter.
To him, I’d always been just a broke student. No pack name, no status, just a pretty face he could parade around and control. That’s why seeing me now—unshaken, unbowed—drove him mad.
"Sylvia," he said, voice sharp and childish, "don’t think this is over. I’ll enjoy watching you fall."
He turned, storming away like he’d won something.
Caesar gently squeezed my hand. "Don’t worry," he murmured, "no one touches my Sivi without answering to me."
I looked up at him and smiled faintly. "He’s nothing but noise. A petty clown who thinks he’s a king."
"He’s right about one thing," I added softly. "The game isn’t over. But he has no idea who he’s playing against."
Caesar brushed his knuckles against my temple. "Then go win it. I’ve got your back."
I nodded.
Later that night, back at home, we didn’t speak much—but the silence between us was... easier than before.
After my shower, I stepped into the room wrapped in a towel and immediately caught Caesar’s gaze. He looked up from his phone, eyes lingering. Something warm flickered there, unspoken and slow-burning.
Without a word, he took the towel from my hands. "Let me dry your hair."
I hesitated, the sudden intimacy stealing the air from my lungs. But then I gave a quiet, "Okay."
His fingers worked gently through my damp hair, careful and reverent. He treated me like I was something rare. Precious.
His voice broke the silence. "Sivi... what happened that day? Why did you pull away from me? Did I do something wrong?"
I opened my mouth.
And then the phone rang.
That perfect, suspended moment shattered like glass.
Caesar’s lips thinned in frustration. He pulled out his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and answered, "Yeah?"
His expression darkened fast.
"...I’m on my way."
I sat upright, towel clutched in my hands. "What’s wrong?"
He hesitated.
"It’s urgent. I have to go."
And just like that, he was gone.
The door slammed behind him, leaving behind only silence—and me, staring into it.
I wrapped my arms around myself. Of course. What else could it be? If he looked that shaken, that distressed—it had to be her.
His first love.
The one I’d never met. But always felt hovering, ghost-like, between us.
I told myself it didn’t matter.
It was a marriage of convenience.
We both had our reasons.
But in the quiet, I hated how empty the room felt.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I drifted into sleep.
But somewhere in that space between dream and waking, I swore I heard Caesar’s voice—low, husky, reverent.
"Sivi..."
Over and over, whispering my name like a prayer.
I tried to open my eyes. Tried to reach for him. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
But it had to be a dream, didn’t it?
He wasn’t here.
He was with her.
—
I woke alone.
The space beside me still held a whisper of warmth.
Had he come back?
I padded into the bathroom, brushing sleep from my eyes—and walked straight into Caesar.
He was already dressed, leaning against the doorframe with that familiar unreadable expression.
There was foam on my lips.
I flushed.
"What?" I snapped, too fast, already embarrassed.
He just smiled and reached out, his thumb brushing gently against my mouth. "You had toothpaste."
"Oh." My voice came out small.
"Breakfast’s ready. Don’t take too long."
He walked off with an apron slung over his shirt, the domesticity almost absurd on someone like him.
"Luna Conrad," he called teasingly from the hallway, "I’m waiting."
I splashed water on my face, trying to calm the heat crawling up my neck.
Gods, he was impossible.
By the time I joined him in the kitchen, my mask was firmly back in place. Cool. Composed. In control.
The flirtation of earlier? Buried.
He slid a sandwich in front of me. "Still warm. There’s porridge if you want something lighter."
I nodded. "Thanks."
The sandwich was perfectly portioned. Of course it was. He remembered the memo.
That damn memo.
I suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.
After a few bites, I stood. "I need to get to work. Big day."
Caesar stood too. "I’ll drive you."
"No need." I grabbed my bag. "You should focus on your urgent business."
He opened his mouth—but I was already out the door.
—
Work consumed me, thankfully.
Meetings. Reports. Strategy reviews. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
I didn’t even notice his texts.
Not until lunch, when I forced myself to eat something in the cafeteria. I still didn’t check the messages.
Let him wait.
He had her.
I had work.
By the time I stretched at my desk near the end of the day, I felt like a person again. Grounded. Focused.
But when I stepped into the Frostline lobby, I stopped short.
Because standing at reception, dressed like he owned the place, was Zane.
Again.
I tried to ignore him. Walk past.
But he spotted me immediately, and of course, stormed over.
"Well, if it isn’t the omega with the sugar daddy." He gave me a slow, leering glance. "Didn’t expect to see you back at work so soon. Guess even sluts need day jobs."
I clenched my fists, breathing through the urge to knock his teeth out. "Get out of here, Zane."
"Why?" he sneered. "Ms. Frost might be interested in me. Once I win her over, I’ll have this whole company in my hands. And then, sweetheart, you’ll be the one getting kicked out."
My eyebrows lifted.
"You’re here for... Ms. Frost?"
He nodded smugly. "I’ve got a meeting soon. I’m going to make her mine. When I do, I’ll have no use for parasites like you."
The irony was so thick I nearly choked on it.
"Ms. Frost, huh?" I echoed slowly. "You know what she looks like?"
"Not yet. That’s why I’m waiting here. So unless you want to be helpful for once, get out of my way."
He grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard.
Pain lanced through my arm. "Let go," I hissed. "Right now."
"Tell me how to find her," he growled. "Or are you scared she’ll toss you out herself?"
"You’re making a scene," I snapped. "In Frostline’s lobby. Think that’s going to impress your future Alpha mate?"
He released me—grudgingly.
But he didn’t stop talking.
"Fine. Just tell me when she comes in. I need to make a good first impression."
I rubbed my wrist. "Ms. Frost wouldn’t look twice at you. She likes strength. Intelligence. Power. Not whatever sewer you crawled out of."
His face twisted. "You lying bitch. You’re jealous, aren’t you?"
He lunged forward, arm raised—
