Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother (Seraphina and Damien) novel Chapter 243

243 Chapter 243

Seraphina’s Perspective

The bouquet of roses rested silently on the passenger seat beside me, feeling less like a gift and more like a silent accusation. I deliberately avoided glancing at them, refusing to touch their delicate petals. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead, driving in heavy silence as Damien’s car followed closely behind.

My grip on the steering wheel was so tight that my knuckles turned pale, yet I couldn’t bring myself to loosen it. Calm was impossible. Relaxation was a distant memory. Not when I was about to step into that house and pretend, just pretend, that everything was fine.

For the children’s sake. Always for the children.

Through the windshield, the house gradually came into view. It should have felt like home, but it didn’t. It was merely a building now—a place where my kids lived, where Damien lived, and where I once belonged.

I parked the car, grabbed my bag, and left the roses behind in the vehicle. Damien was already waiting by the front door when I reached it, his hand resting on the doorknob.

“Mama!” Lily’s voice rang out before I had even crossed the threshold. She came bounding toward me, her pigtails bouncing with each step, her face glowing with the kind of excitement that only a child on Christmas morning could have. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

I caught her as she flung herself against my legs, holding her tightly and breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Of course I’m here, baby. Didn’t I promise?”

She grabbed my hand and began tugging me forward. “Come see! Adrian and I decorated the whole dining room! We made it so pretty!”

She pulled me through the entryway, across the living room, and toward the dining area—then suddenly stopped.

The room was transformed. Paper hearts dangled from the ceiling, suspended on thin fishing lines. A banner stretched across one wall, crafted in crayon letters that spelled out “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD.” The table was set with our finest dishes, surrounded by flickering candles and fresh flowers, likely picked from the garden by little hands.

“Do you like it?” Lily bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes shining. “Adrian made the banner! I picked the flowers!”

Adrian stood silently by the table, attempting to look casual, but his eyes never left me. They followed my every move, waiting, searching for my reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” I managed to say, my voice thick with emotion. “You both did such a wonderful job.”

“Really?” Lily’s face lit up even more. “We worked on it all afternoon!”

“I can tell. It’s perfect.”

Damien appeared behind me, close enough for me to sense his presence, but not close enough to touch. Not anymore.

“They wanted to surprise you,” he said quietly.

“Mission accomplished,” I whispered.

Lily tugged my hand again. “Come on! Dinner’s ready! Daddy made your favorite!”

She led me to the table where Adrian was already seated, his expression carefully neutral—a mask he wore more often these days.

I slid into my usual seat, muscle memory guiding me before my mind could protest.

Damien took the chair across from me. Our eyes met briefly before both looking away. This was going to be a long dinner.

Lily chatted nonstop throughout the meal, sharing stories about school, friends, and a science project she was excited about. Safe, ordinary topics. Adrian spoke occasionally but mostly observed, his gaze flickering between Damien and me, as if trying to decode something unspoken.

The food was delicious—chicken parmesan, my favorite, just as Lily had said. Yet, each bite felt like chewing cardboard.

“Mama?” Lily’s voice cut through my swirling thoughts. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine, baby. Just tired from work.”

“But it’s your anniversary!” Her fork clattered onto the plate as she grew serious. “You’re supposed to be happy on your anniversary.”

“I am happy,” I lied, the words burning as they left my lips.

“Then why aren’t you smiling?”

I forced my mouth into something resembling a smile. “See? Happy.”

Lily studied my face intently, unconvinced. She was only seven, unable to explain what felt wrong but sensing it deeply.

“We made cake too!” She quickly changed the subject, retreating to safer ground. “It’s chocolate! Your favorite!”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said softly.

After dinner, they brought out the cake—a slightly uneven chocolate cake with white frosting, the words “Happy Anniversary” scrawled in pink icing. It was homemade, clearly crafted with love.

“Adrian did most of it,” Lily confessed. “I just helped with the frosting!”

“You both did amazing.” This time, my smile was genuine. “It’s perfect.”

They sang—off-key but full of enthusiasm—their voices filling the room with a fragile sense of joy.

Damien and I remained silent, watching our children’s efforts to make everything feel normal.

We cut the cake together, his hand covering mine on the knife—the first time we’d touched in months. His skin was warm, familiar, and yet somehow wrong.

I pulled away the moment the cake was sliced.

“I should go,” I said abruptly, the words breaking the fragile quiet.

“What?” Lily’s face fell. “But we just had cake!”

“I know, baby. But it’s late, and I have work tomorrow.”

“Can’t you stay?” Her voice grew smaller, pleading. “Please? Just tonight?”

“Lily—”

“Please, Mama. It’s your anniversary. You’re supposed to stay home on your anniversary.”

“Sweetie, I can’t—”

“Why not?” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Why can’t you just stay? Why do you always have to leave?”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Then what is she?” My voice cracked. “What is she to you, Damien?”

“Nothing! She’s nothing!”

“She’s carrying your child!” The words tore free. “She’s carrying your baby, and you’re here asking me to stay? Asking me to work through this? Like it’s some small problem we can fix?”

“It’s not my baby!” He stepped closer, desperation in his eyes. “I don’t care what she says. I don’t care what the timeline is. That baby isn’t mine because I never touched her. I never wanted her. I only want you!”

“Well, you don’t have me.” My voice was flat, final. “You lost me the second you spent that night with her. Whether you remember it or not. Whether you wanted it or not. You lost me.”

“Sera, please—”

“And you know what the worst part is?” The tears finally spilled over. “The worst part is that I still—” My voice broke. “I still feel something. When I look at you. When you’re near me. I still feel it. That pull. That connection. Whatever the hell it was that made me fall in love with you in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope appearing.

“But it doesn’t matter.” I wiped my face roughly. “This is over, Damien. We’re over.”

I stepped through the doorway and into the cool night air.

His hand shot out, catching mine—trembling, desperate.

“Sera—”

“Goodnight, Damien.”

I took three steps away before I heard it—a small, barely audible sound but unmistakable.

Crying.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around.

And there they were.

Adrian and Lily, standing at the top of the stairs, visible through the open door. Both dressed in pajamas, clutching their favorite stuffed animals.

Both crying.

Lily’s face was a wreck, tears streaming down as her little body shook with sobs.

Adrian tried to look strong, but his face was breaking down, his eyes glossy with tears.

“Please don’t be angry,” Lily’s small, broken voice carried across the distance. “Please, Mama. Please, Daddy. Please don’t be angry anymore.”