My Guardian Married My Sister But I’m His Alpha Chapter 07
He didn’t look at her.
His hand hung at his side, the obsidian wedding ring glinting coldly under the chandelier.
“Is that true?” Chiara asked, her voice barely a whisper.
This time, Griffin didn’t remain silent.
“Yes,” he said.
Chiara stared at him, her world tilting on its axis.
“Do you have an explanation?”
“No.”
She froze.
This man—the one who, when she was sixteen, had promised that no matter what, he would always be on her side.
The man who had held her outside the healer’s wing and sworn he would take care of her.
He had been the one to ask for a marriage alliance with her sister.
“Griffin.” Francesca’s soft voice broke the silence. “Could you get me a glass of water? I don’t feel well.”
Griffin glanced at Chiara for a fraction of a second before turning toward the kitchen.
Chiara watched as he filled a glass, tested the water temperature with his finger, then bent down to place it in Francesca’s hand.
“There,” he said gently.
“Thank you,” Francesca murmured.
Her eyes were still red, but the corner of her mouth was curved in the slightest hint of a smile.
It was an expression only Chiara could decipher.
Standing there, she felt like the scene before her was a perfect, complete portrait.
Her mother holding Francesca’s hand. Griffin standing protectively by her side.
They looked like a family.
And Chiara looked like an intruder.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
No one tried to stop her.
At the door, Chiara pulled a plain steel ring from her right hand and set it on the entry cabinet.
She had won it at Coney Island when she was sixteen.
It was worthless, just a cheap souvenir.
Griffin had been the one to take her there. He’d stood behind her the whole time, shielding her from the jostling crowds.
That ring held too many of her secrets.
Back in the cab, the wind dried the tears on her cheeks, leaving a cold, stinging sensation.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Francesca.
*Chiara, don’t be angry with Griffin. He’s not good with words, but he’s always cared about you.*
Chiara didn’t reply.
A second message followed almost immediately.
*Tomorrow I’ll help you pick something to wear, okay? The Riverbend elders will be there, too.*
Chiara looked at the screen, then finally replied with two words.
*No need.*
Then she opened her contacts and let her finger hover over a name.
Mr. Vale.
Sterling Vale was eight years older than her, the current Alpha of the Ironwood Pack. His name appeared alongside Griffin’s in Council briefings more and more often.
But where Griffin was the man the Morettis had raised to solve their problems, Sterling was the true heir of the Vale bloodline.
Three years ago, during her second month in Paris, Chiara had found a black briefcase at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
Inside were a passport, a checkbook, and a signed inter-territorial trade agreement.
She had sat in the terminal for four hours before Sterling finally appeared, his expression grim.
He had said very little. He’d taken the documents, given her a quick, assessing glance, then pulled a business card from his pocket.
“I owe you one,” he’d said. “No matter where you are, if you need something, call this number.”
Only later did Chiara learn that the agreement had involved three of Ironwood’s most valuable trade lines.
In the three years she spent in Paris, she’d been evicted by landlords, worked odd jobs without a contract, and at one point, had only ten euros to her name.
She never used that card.
Because a promise from an Alpha was a heavy debt.
But tonight, he was the only person she could think of.
She spent ten minutes composing a message. In the end, she sent only one line.
*Mr. Vale, this is Chiara Moretti.*
She hadn’t expected him to reply almost instantly.
*Where are you?*
No greeting. No questions.
*New York. The Hyatt.*
*I’ll be in your lobby in twenty minutes.*
She had barely finished reading when another message came through.
*Whatever it is, the answer is yes.*