Chapter 94 Resignation
Aelira’s POV
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“Ms. Sunmere, these allegations are quite serious.” The department manager’s voice sounds strained as he shifts his gaze between me and Cyrinne Wynthor, who sits regally on her chair like an injured
queen.
I hold my ground, aware of my wolf bristling beneath the surface. The unfairness of the situation.
ignites a fire within me.
“I did not shove her,” I declare resolutely, making eye contact with each executive around the table.
“Cyrinne is the one who pushed me down the stairs. She has threatened my life and my-‘
I halt before revealing my pregnancy, but Cyrinne’s emerald eyes sparkle with wicked triumph. She is
aware of my secret.
“That’s absurd!” Barbara, Cyrinne’s representative from her pack, steps forward. Her sharp features
twist with indignation. “Ms. Wynthor is Alarion Riven’s intended mate and the foremost healer of the
Thunder Pack. Why would she jeopardize her reputation by attacking you?”
Cyrinne dabs at her eyes with a tissue, flawlessly embodying innocence. “I merely wanted to discuss a potential partnership. I never anticipated being assaulted.”
My patience fractures. “If you are so sure that I pushed you, let’s review the surveillance footage and bring in the territorial enforcers!”
A heavy silence blankets the room. Cyrinne’s eyes momentarily widen before narrowing suspiciously.
“How dare you!” she retorts, placing a protective hand over her belly. “Now you’re attempting to involve
law enforcement? After you threatened to throw me down the stairs?”
Her audacity leaves me in disbelief. “That is a total fabrication, and you know it.”
The cooperative’s director nervously clears his throat. “Ms. Sunmere, perhaps it would be wise for your to apologize to Ms. Wynthor. We cannot afford to lose her expertise in the upcoming joint research
initiative.”
I look at him in disbelief. “Apologize? For defending myself?”
“Consider the consequences,” he continues, avoiding my gaze. “The Thunder Pack’s standing in the
healing community is significant. If Ms. Wynthor were to withdraw her support…”
The implication is unmistakable. My role is indispensable; Cyrinne’s is not.
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The atmosphere in the room feels stifling with cowardice. These executives are ready to throw me
under the bus to safeguard their corporate interests and evade Cyrinne’s fury.
“If this is how Verdant Moon Herbalists prioritizes workplace safety and fairness, then I want nothing
to do with this cooperative,” I declare, maintaining a calm voice even as anger simmers within me. “I
resign, effective immediately.”
Cyrinne’s lips turn upward in a faint smile of triumph before she regains her façade of distress.
“Aelira, I urge you to think this over,” my department manager implores, finally summoning the courage
he lacked until now. “Your skills are crucial to our research.”
“Apparently, they aren’t crucial enough to stand up for what’s right,” I retort icily. “I’ll be emptying my workstation today.”
Without awaiting a reply, I pivot and exit the office, holding my head high, despite the quaking in my
limbs.
Back at my workstation, I start placing my personal items into a cardboard box. My silver–infused
mortar and pestle. The rare dried herbs I’ve gathered over the years. My mother’s handwritten recipe
book for werewolf remedies.
“Aelira?”
I glance up to see Jastor Halden next to my desk, his green eyes filled with concern. The genuine
worry in his wolf’s scent envelops the space as he observes me packing.
“I heard what occurred,” he states in a hushed tone. “The entire floor is buzzing about it.”
I carefully wrap my fragile measuring scales in protective fabric. “I can imagine Cyrinne’s version is quite embellished.”
Jastor shakes his head, assisting me in placing my jars of dried moonflower into the box. “Most of us don’t buy into her story. We’ve known you long enough to trust that you wouldn’t act that way.”
His unexpected support feels reassuring. “Thank you, but it’s too late now. I’ve resigned.”
“You shouldn’t have to leave because of her,” he replies, frustration evident in his tone.
He carefully picks up my silver–infused mortar and pestle, wrapping them in protective cloth before
adding them to my box.
“What will you do next?” he inquires softly.
I exhale, taking in my workstation, which has become my haven since parting ways with Alarion.
I have no idea at the moment. I still hold a license to practice independently.”
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Jastor nods, his protective instincts as a wolf stirring visibly as he helps gather my remaining items.
“Let me assist you with that.”
We make our way to the elevator together, his presence beside me serving as a silent pledge of support that I appreciate more than he realizes. As the doors slide open, I’m taken aback to see Daelor
Briarhallow stepping out, his commanding Alpha scent swiftly permeating the corridor.
His silver–gray eyes swiftly evaluate the scene – me with a box of my belongings, Jastor standing
guard at my side.
“Aelira,” Daelor addresses me, his deep voice steady yet laced with rage. “I heard what transpired.”
News spreads quickly in werewolf circles. I wonder who has informed him, suspecting it could be Dr.
Nyven Leyric, who has connections throughout Aethervale Hospital, where Cyrinne wields significant
influence.
“I resigned,” I state plainly. “It was the only choice that maintained my dignity.”
Daelor’s jaw clenches, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he strives to suppress his anger. Without uttering another word, he reaches for the box that Jastor is carrying.
For a moment, the two men engage in an intense gaze, their wolves silently gauging one another.
Jastor hesitates momentarily before surrendering the box to the more dominant Alpha.
“I appreciate your help, Jastor,” I say earnestly, breaking the tension between the two of them.
Jastor acknowledges Daelor with a cautious gaze. “Just call me if you need anything,” he says.
Daelor responds coolly, effortlessly projecting his Alpha presence. “She won’t need anything.”
I return Jastor’s look with a small smile of appreciation before stepping into the elevator alongside
Daelor. As the doors shut, I exhale a long, trembling breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
“You don’t have to do this,” I remark while glancing at him. “I can handle things on my own.”
His silver–gray eyes connect with mine, momentarily softening with concern. “I believe you can. But
you shouldn’t have to.”
The journey back to Myrthale Residences is silent, with Daelor appearing deep in thought. His
knuckles grip the steering wheel tightly, the only visible hint of the anger he is holding in.
Upon arriving at my apartment, Daelor carefully sets my box down on the kitchen counter. The familiar environment begins to soothe my frayed nerves.
“Please tell me the whole story,” he requests while leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
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I detail the confrontation I had with Cyrinne, emphasizing her threats and the moment she pushed me.
As I recount the story, Daelor’s expression grows darker, his Alpha energy intensifying and filling the
apartment with a tense atmosphere.
“I finish by stating that she’s aware of my pregnancy,” I say, my hand instinctively resting on my belly
where my pup is developing. “And she threatened me–us.”
Daelor’s gaze follows my hand movement, his jaw tightening in response. “No one threatens what belongs to me,” he growls, his silver–gray eyes glimmering dangerously. He quickly corrects himself, adding, “…my friends, I mean.”
His slip sparks a flutter in my chest, but I set the feeling aside to concentrate on the current situation.
“What actions do you want to take regarding this?” he queries, his tone calmer now. “I can deal with
Cyrinne Wynthor, but I will not interfere with your plans for the marking ceremony.”
I appreciate his respect for my autonomy in this matter. “I still prefer to wait until then to reveal their affair. That will create the greatest impact.”
Daelor nods, his expression somber but satisfied. “Then we will go ahead as planned. But I’ll make
certain she stays away from you in the meantime.”
“What about my job?” I ask, suddenly realizing the consequences of my hasty resignation. “I’m
uncertain about what I’ll do now. The herbal healing community is quite small, and Cyrinne wields significant influence.”
To my astonishment, Daelor’s expression softens, and a small smile forms on his lips. “In fact, I have a
suggestion for that.”
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