Chapter 40
Elodie’s POV~
The elderly woman frowned. “Elodie p>
“Mom’s here?” Liora’s voice broke through the quiet tension. She had just come down from the upper floor, her soft curls bouncing as she hurried forward. The sight of her, so bright, so innocent made my throat tighten. Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since I last saw her, and even now, I couldn’t bring myself to smile.
Before I could say a word, Liora ran into my arms. “Mom!” Her small body collided with mine, warm and trembling, her scent a mix of wild lilies and wolf. My heart cracked. I wrapped my arms around her gently, my voice barely escaping in a quiet hum. “Hey, baby p>
That was all I could manage.
The elderly lady cleared her throat softly, her expression smoothing into something polite, practiced. She never liked scenes, never liked emotions that bled into the air.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had tea made by your hands, Elodie,” she said with that faint, knowing smile. “Would you make some for me? I do miss your touch p>
I nodded automatically. “Of course, Nonna. Though it’s nearly dinner time p>
Amber, Dante’s sister, interrupted with a scoff, leaning back against the velvet sofa. “Oh, come on, we’ll eat soon anyway. Dante and York should be back any minute now.” She was dressed like she’d walked out of a fashion spread, sharp edges, red lipstick, and an attitude that could slice skin.
The mention of Dante’s name sent a strange ache through my chest. I tried to keep my face steady, but my pulse betrayed me.
And then, as if my thoughts summoned him, the heavy doors opened.
Dante stepped in, tall, broad-shouldered, his presence instantly drawing the air out of the room. His aura filled the space, the kind that made even seasoned wolves lower their heads. He greeted his grandmother first, then his mother.
When his eyes flicked to me, I felt it, the way his gaze lingered, cold and fleeting, before he turned away and took a seat at the far end of the room.
My fingers curled in my lap. He didn’t even nod at me.
“Dad!” Liora squealed, already dashing to him. He smiled then, that rare, soft curve that used to belong to me. My breath hitched. He lifted her onto his lap with ease, his voice gentle, affectionate. “There’s my little Alpha p>
And just like that, I was invisible.
Amber poured herself a glass of wine, laughing quietly with York, who was her youngest brother, the sunlight of their cold family, when he bounded in from the hallway, his boyish grin lighting up the room.
“Were you all waiting for me?” he joked, leaping over the armrest of a sofa like a pup. His energy loosened everyone’s mood. Even the old lady’s lips softened into something resembling warmth.
But not mine.
I just sat there, hands clasped, pretending not to notice Dante’s fingers brushing Liora’s hair, pretending not to feel the sting of being a stranger at my own table. Every smile, every laugh around me blurred into background noise.
Dinner was announced soon after. The small dining hall glittered with soft gold light, and the long table was already set, fine silverware, porcelain dishes, everything immaculate, like the perfect Bellini Pack image had to be.
I took my seat quietly beside Liora, across from Dante. He didn’t look up. His attention was on his plate, his daughter, the family. Never me. I used to know that face better than my own. Now, I couldn’t even read the man behind it.
The old lady, ever the puppeteer, smiled sweetly. “Liora, dear, why don’t you switch seats with your father? Let your parents sit together.” She said it lightly, but there was a glint in her eye. She’d been trying to pull us closer for years, still believing that forced proximity could fix something that had long since shattered.
The elderly lady was always trying tirelessly to bring Dante and me closer. Everyone in the pack had grown used to her quiet persistence by now. They all thought her efforts were pointless because no matter what she did, no matter how many dinners she arranged or how often she made us sit side by side, Dante’s indifference toward me never changed.
I could feel her eyes on me even now, her gentle but desperate hope that one day her favorite grandson would look at me the way he once did like I was his home, his everything. But that version of us was long gone. Replaced by silence, by distance so wide it felt like standing across a canyon.
Amber, his sister, didn’t even bother to hide her smirk this time. She just swirled her wine, watching us like a spectator at a show she’d seen a hundred times. She leaned back lazily, her voice dripping with mock cheer. “Let’s just eat, Nonna. You’ll give yourself wrinkles worrying about lost causes p>
I forced a small smile, pretending not to hear. Dante sat beside me, silent as always, his presence large enough to swallow the air. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight as he sliced through his steak with unnecessary force. He didn’t look at me once, and somehow, that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.
The table was bright with laughter, the clinking of forks and glasses, but I felt detached like I was sitting underwater, hearing everything from a distance. I smiled when I needed to, nodded when someone spoke to me, but my hands trembled every time my fingers brushed the edge of his plate.
When I looked up, the old lady was still watching me with that same helpless expression like she wished I’d fight harder, say something, anything to stir the silence between us. She thought I was too soft, too patient with him. But she didn’t know that sometimes, patience was just another word for exhaustion.
Dinner began formally, with all the elegance expected of an Alpha’s household. Candlelight shimmered on polished silverware. The scent of roasted meat and spices filled the air. Everyone was chatting, Amber, York, even Liora was laughing like everything in this family was perfect. But it wasn’t.
It had been over ten minutes since Dante arrived, and we hadn’t exchanged a single word. Not even a glance. It wasn’t unusual anymore. Everyone had stopped expecting affection between us long ago. What used to draw whispers and pity had simply become the norm, Alpha Dante and his silent Luna, living like ghosts under the same roof.
I lowered my gaze to my plate, pushing food around without appetite. I used to love family dinners, back when Dante would reach for my hand under the table, his thumb brushing my skin, steadying me whenever the pack elders’ stares grew too sharp. Now, my hand just rested there, cold, forgotten.
Liora’s small voice cut through my thoughts. “Mom, I want to eat the big shrimp p>