Chapter 29 The Discarded Clothes
Serena’s smile widened.
The answer pleased her. Alpha Sebastian did not like the idea of her arriving with another man. She filed that away.
"Then I guess I’ll go alone."
"Not a chance," Isabella said brightly. "Once we’re inside, I’ll give Sebastian right back to you. I won’t be in the way."
Serena laughed.
"You’d better remember that."
Alpha Roger and Luna Margaret exchanged a look, then excused themselves for the night. Isabella followed them into the hall.
Before the door closed, she lifted her phone.
Alpha Sebastian had leaned toward Serena after she complained something was in her eye. Serena tipped up her chin and kissed him.
Isabella snapped the photo.
Perfect.
She sent it to Eira.
Isabella: Thought you should see this. He looks happier with Serena. Stop pretending your marriage has a future.
Eira’s phone was still switched off. The message sat unread.
--
Alpha Sebastian pulled back first.
"Serena."
He glanced toward the closed dining room door.
"We should probably be careful."
"Is it wrong?" Serena asked softly. "You care about me. I care about you."
"No." The answer came too fast. "It’s not wrong."
Serena smiled but gave him space.
"I’m tired. Can you show me to my room?"
"Of course."
She held out her hand.
"I’m still a little dizzy."
Alpha Sebastian took it and led her down the hall.
At the guest suite, Serena glanced at the door beside it.
"Your room is next door?"
"It is." He stopped at the threshold. "If you need anything, call me."
"I need something now." Her smile was small. "Something to sleep in."
"Give me a minute."
Alpha Sebastian went to his room and opened the closet.
His shirts hung neatly on one side. Eira’s clothes filled the other.
Plain white T-shirts. Cotton shorts. Soft, practical things bought for comfort, not attention.
She had bought them in multipacks, always choosing the cheapest option.
He had told her more than once to buy something nicer. Silk pajamas, maybe. Something that looked less like it came from a clearance bin.
She always said the old shirts worked fine.
His phone was still in his hand.
He opened his messages.
Sebastian: I’m clearing some space in the closet. You should replace the old sleepwear when you can.
The message stayed undelivered.
No argument. No question.
He gathered several of Eira’s shirts and dropped them into a storage bag.
A tie pin caught the light on the shelf above.
Eira had picked it out. The tie beside it, too. His watch. His briefcase. Half the things that made him look successful had passed through her hands.
Then there were her clothes. Cheap cotton. Barely taking up space.
The contrast sat badly with him.
"Sebastian?"
Serena stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame.
"It’s taking you forever to find one shirt."
He reached for one of his own button-downs.
"Nothing in here will fit you comfortably. Take this."
She accepted it, then glanced at the trash bin.
"What’s that?"
"Nothing."
Serena looked at the white shirts.
"You don’t have to keep a museum of a marriage that’s already ending," she said gently.
Alpha Sebastian’s eyes moved back to the bin. "I’ll deal with it later."
"Of course."
--
At Beatrice’s estate, Eira turned her phone back on before bed.
Notifications flooded the screen.
Beatrice’s missed calls. Alpha Sebastian’s undelivered messages. Then Isabella’s photo.
Alpha Sebastian and Serena kissing on the couch.
So what?
Serena’s perfume had already been in Eira’s bedroom. Black lace had already been under the bed. The sheets had told the rest of the story.
Then she saw Alpha Sebastian’s message.
[I’m clearing some space in the closet. You should replace the old sleepwear when you can.]
Fine.
She had not planned to go back for those clothes anyway.
She scrolled through old messages with Alpha Sebastian.
The last two weeks were almost empty.
Further back, they were full of small reminders.
Eira: What do you want for dinner?
Eira: Your gray suit is pressed.
Eira: Your tie clip is on the dresser.
His replies never changed.
Sebastian: Thanks, wife.
The word used to make her feel chosen.
Now it looked like an automatic response from a man who had never really seen her.
She locked the phone and turned over.
Sleep came late.
--
The Thorne kitchen was quiet the next morning.
The housekeeper looked up when Eira walked in.
"Miss Crawford, are you hungry? I can make breakfast."
"I’ve got it," Eira said. "Thank you."
She made a batch of breakfast biscuits with eggs, sausage, and sharp cheddar.
At the group home, a hot biscuit had once felt like a real luxury. It was simple, filling, and warm enough to make a bad morning survivable.
By the time she finished, a tray of oversized biscuit sandwiches sat on the counter.
The housekeeper stared.
"They’re huge."
"That’s the point."
For Alpha Sebastian, she had learned to make tiny, careful things. Mini quiches. Small pastries. Food that looked good on a polished table.
But this was what she liked.
She left a few for Beatrice and the staff, packed the rest, and headed to Sterling Tower.
At work, Eira set one wrapped biscuit on Natalie’s desk.
Natalie looked at it.
"Breakfast."
"You made breakfast for me?"
"I made too many."
Natalie took a bite.
Then stopped.
"Oh, wow."
"Apparently, something worth stealing," Natalie said, pulling the bag closer.
Eira handed Kate one too.
Miles arrived a few minutes later. Natalie held out the last extra biscuit.
"You want one?"
"What is?"
Alpha Killian’s voice cut through the room.
Miles turned. "Miss Crawford brought in homemade breakfast biscuits."
Alpha Killian looked toward Eira’s bag.
Only one remained. The one Eira had set aside for herself.
"Let me try one."
Eira moved before anyone else could.
She grabbed the last biscuit and took a large bite.
"Sorry, Alpha Killian," she said around the mouthful. "Last one."
The office went quiet for half a second.
Then Natalie looked down at her desk to hide a smile.