Free Web NovelChapter 95: Chapter 95 The Confrontation
Sylvia’s POV
I pulled into the Frostline Enterprises lot running on zero sleep and about three sips of cold coffee. My limbs felt heavy, like I was dragging a wet blanket over concrete.
Even the concealer I’d slapped on this morning was giving up the fight—my face still looked like I’d spent the night in a boxing match with my own thoughts. Which, to be fair, wasn’t far off.
As an Alpha forced to suppress my true nature for three years, I’d become an expert at masking my emotions—but today, those skills were being tested to their limits.
And then I saw him.
Zane Thorne.
Leaning against the front steps like he belonged there, dressed like a damn magazine ad and holding—of all things—a giant bouquet of red roses.
The kind you bring to a proposal. Or a funeral. Hard to say.
I blinked, hoping I was hallucinating. freёweɓnovel.com
Nope. Still there.
I changed course, planning to breeze past him without a single word.
Pretend he didn’t exist, just like I’d been doing for months.
But of course, he moved right into my path like he had VIP access to poor decisions.
One long leg stepped out, blocking the walkway, forcing me to stop just short of a collision.
"What do you want?" I finally snapped, my patience evaporating like morning dew under a harsh sun. "I have work to do."
His smile faltered slightly at my tone. "Looking to send me back to jail again? Didn’t get enough satisfaction the first time?"
The mention of his brief incarceration made his smile freeze.
I knew he’d spent several days in lockup after harassing me, despite his father’s attempts to get him released immediately.
Someone had made sure he stayed there long enough to feel the consequences of his actions.
I hadn’t been behind that particular intervention, but I certainly wasn’t going to correct his assumption.
I looked up with a slow smile and inspected my nails like they held all the answers to the universe. “If you’re that nostalgic for your cell, I’m sure the local precinct can squeeze you back in. Should I call ahead or do you want to be surprised?”
He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
My wolf stirred, catching the shift in his scent—smugness laced with desperation. He still thought I was the girl who used to orbit around him like he was her personal sun.
Cute.
“Sylvia,” he said, voice dipping into what I assume was meant to be seductive, “I’ve forgiven you for all that. Really. I’ve grown. I see things clearer now.”
I barked out a laugh. Loud. Unladylike. Entirely deserved.
“You’ve forgiven me?” I echoed, eyebrows arching. “For what, exactly? For setting boundaries you didn’t like? For not letting you treat me like a consolation prize after your ‘fated mate’ decided she didn’t want you either?”
He blinked but kept going, like I hadn’t just verbally body-slammed him.
He held out a bouquet of red roses—dramatic, overpriced, and wildly out of place at 9:30 on a Monday morning.
“I know you still care,” he said. “Three years together—that doesn’t just vanish. I was misled before, but I’m here now. I’m here to make things right.”
Right. With roses and a redemption arc no one asked for.
And that’s when I noticed them—the growing cluster of people slowing on the sidewalk, phones out, eyes wide.
Passersby, office employees, probably a few interns who lived for this kind of workplace drama. Hell, one woman was already whispering like she was live-streaming to her group chat.
“Say yes!” someone shouted, probably sarcastic. Another voice followed, and suddenly the crowd was judging me like a courtroom full of amateur lawyers.
Zane’s smile stretched wider, smug and practiced.
He thought the public pressure would box me in.
That I’d grit my teeth and take him back just to avoid a scene.
He really had no idea who he was dealing with anymore.
I took a step forward, the sharp click of my heels echoing against the pavement like a starting bell. His eyes lit up—hopeful, smug.
Like he actually thought I was walking over to throw myself into his arms.
Bless his delusion.
Instead, I slapped him. Hard enough to make my palm sting.
The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot.
He reeled, one hand flying to his cheek as his eyes went wide—shocked, confused, and just a little bit pissed.
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” he hissed, voice low and venom-laced, his hand lifting like he planned to return the favor.
Bad move.
I caught his wrist midair, grip firm and unflinching.
His breath hitched, and that tiny wince made my wolf practically purr with satisfaction.
She’d been waiting for this.
For the moment we could show him—show everyone—that I wasn’t his soft-spoken Omega anymore.
That I never had been.
“You finished?” I asked, voice calm like we were discussing the weather.
He tried to yank his arm back. I didn’t budge.
“You show up here with that sad excuse for a rom-com stunt and a pocket-sized audience, thinking I’d fold?” I leaned in just enough for only him—and the half-dozen phones filming us—to hear.
“You don’t get to play the wounded ex anymore, Zane. And you sure as hell don’t get to rewrite history. I’m not your fallback girl. I’m the Alpha who’ll crash your entire ego-driven rebrand before I’ve had my first espresso.”
Then I let go—with a little twist of the wrist that sent him stumbling back, arms flailing like an off-balance toddler.
He barely caught himself before landing flat on the concrete.
His face went beet-red, and the crowd around us exploded—low gasps, stifled laughter, and the unmistakable sound of someone whispering, “Oh my Moon Goddess, she just wrecked him.”
Phones were out. Cameras were rolling. TikTok was about to have a field day.
I adjusted my blazer, smoothed my hair, and walked right past him toward the building.
He could keep the roses.
They’d look great in the dumpster.
