Chapter 157
Ellie POV
That night, I’m settled into a bedroom that was told it was mine, but felt nothing like it.
Dominic’s mother and the maids had been almost aggressively cheerful about my arrive as soon as I rolled in, they pushed me through the halls like a prized acquisition, pointing out wardrobes I hadn’t opened yet, food I hadn’t tasted, views that would soon be mine.
Every reassurance came with a smile that said welcome home long before I was ready to hear it.
Like deja vu over and over and over again.
By the time they finally leave me alone in the old room, it was quiet and dim, lit only by candles flickering soft gold against the crestedwalls.
I remembered the room well. I was the same one I stayed in before Dominic and I wed the first time.
Those awful pink curtains. My hands threaed over the linen.
I kept them before out of respect, but this time they were so gone.
Yuck.
Outside the windows, the estate gardens were swallowed by night. Guards walking, changing shifts.
This all felt…awful. I shouldn’t be here. Yet here I was.
I exhale, my shoulders dropping.
Okay. I can do this.
I roll my chair to the bed, and shift forward, bracing my hands on the mattress as I try to move myself out of the wheelchair. My balance wobbles, panic flaring-
“Shit,” I mutter then when I try and lift myself, the wheel chair flies out from under me.
1 yelp, but it’s caught, stopped.
“Need help?”
I startle.
Dominic stands behind me, the doorway open like he’s been there longer than I realized, his presence filling the room in a way that makes my pulse jump. Before I can answer, before I can even decide whether I want to, he slips his arms under me and lifts me effortlessly.
I gasp, fingers curling into his shirt out of instinct.
“Dominic-”
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly. “Remember?”
Memories of our wedding night flood me like a sinking ship. It wasn’t the same, but still, he hasd that same tone.
“Where were you all day?” I huff into his chest, tring to keep my cheeks cool.
“Working,” He said, “Heard you had so much fun seeing the grounds.”
“Yes,” I muttered, “You’re mother is quiet ecstatic about my acceptance.”
1/3
30 Bonus
He sets me down with care, hands warm and steady, lingering just long enough to make my face heat. He leanes over me and adjusts the pillows behind me so I’m sitting upright, close enough that I can feel the warmth from his chest radiating from him.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He nods once, han don the head board over me, then hesitates.
After a beat, he pulls back, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded stack of papers, setting them gently on my lap along with a pen. He sits beside me on the edge of the bed, close but not touching.
“The contract,” he says. “As we agreed. I figured you’d want to see it before morning.”
I unfold the contract carefully, smoothing it against my lap. He angles it so we can both see, his shoulder brushing mine just barely, close enough that I’m aware of him without being distracted by it.
“Start here,” he says, tapping the first section. “Your education. Non-negotiable.”
I glance up. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” he says evenly, “no one pulls you out of the healer academy. Not my parents. Not the council. Not me. You finish your studies on your timeline, if you so choose.”
I swallow, eyes dropping back to the page. “And if being Luna gets in the way?”
“It won’t,” he replies without hesitation. “Again, if you choose, if someone tries to make it, I’ll shut it down.”
That’s…nice.
He moves his finger down the page. “Autonomy. You answer to yourself. No required appearances, no ceremonial nonsense unless you agree to it. You’re not a decoration.”
I huff softly. “Glad we’re on the same page there.”
His mouth quirks. “I had a feeling.”
He continues, voice steady, methodical. “Authority. You’ll have full access to Alpha resources when it comes to your mother’s case and other ventures. Records, finances, internal investigations. No one blocks you.”
My chest tightens. “Even if it points back to your family?”
He doesn’t dodge it. “It won’t. But even then.”
“And this?” I ask quietly, tapping another section.
“My interference clause,” he says. “Or lack thereof.”
I look at him. “You really put that in.”
“I really did.”
“You’re not allowed to override me,” I read aloud. “Not politically. Not medically. Not socially.” I glance up again. “But… you hate being told what you can’t do.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Which is why I know exactly how important that line is.”
I shake my head slowly, disbelief curling through me. “You thought about this.”
“I told you,” he says. “I’ve been thinking.”
I turn another page. Then another. My fingers slow as the realization sinks in.
This isn’t rushed or sloppy.
2/3
+30 Bonus
