My Guardian Married My Sister But I’m His Alpha Chapter 61
Chiara looked at him, saying nothing.
His throat moved.
“Your father didn’t want me as his son-in-law. I can’t change that.”
“I married Francesca and kept you in the dark for three years. I can’t change that, either.”
“But there are things I can change. You have every right to ask the Council to replace me.”
“Chiara.” His voice was low. “Before any Pack title, before anything else—would you be willing to let me be your boyfriend first?”
He wasn’t asking for a mate bond or a mark.
Chiara met his gaze.
Then she took the steel ring out of her pocket and slipped it back onto her finger.
“Boyfriend first,” she said. “As for Alpha and Luna—I’ll be the one to decide that.”
Griffin stared at her hand, and his eyes reddened.
He didn’t say anything. Only after he was sure she wasn’t going to pull away did he draw her into his arms.
This embrace was nothing like the one outside the healer’s wing.
Chiara rested her head against his shoulder, her nose stinging.
Her wolf recognized his pine scent and, this time, accepted her choice.
The tears that came were not bitter.
Back in the car, her phone vibrated.
Surprisingly, it was their mother.
*I’m taking Francesca to Europe for treatment tomorrow. I want to see you before we leave. At the Pack estate. Just us.*
Chiara stared at the message.
Griffin saw her expression but said nothing.
He simply placed the car keys in her hand.
“Go,” he said. “If that’s what you want. I’ll wait at the apartment.”
Maple leaves carpeted the grounds of the Pack estate.
When Chiara opened the door, only a single lamp was lit in the living room.
Her mother sat on the sofa. Two cups of tea and a thermos were on the table in front of her.
When she saw Chiara, she stood, her lips parting as if to speak.
“Sit,” she said, her voice rough. “I’m sorry to have you come so late.”
Chiara sat across from her.
Her mother touched the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and poured the contents into a small bowl.
It was a clear chicken broth with tiny pasta, still steaming.
The soup Francesca always had after returning from the healer’s wing.
The same soup Chiara had smelled a thousand times as a child but had never once been offered.