Chapter 99 New Job
Aelira’s POV
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I finish the call with Cyrinne and immediately block her number, my finger confirming the action on the
screen. Good riddance.
“What was that about?” Oriana inquires, noticing my tense expression as I slide my phone back into
my pocket.
“Cyrinne Wynthor,” I say, unable to mask the sharpness in my tone. “She’s livid because, apparently,
Daelor has canceled all her herbal remedy contracts.”
Oriana’s eyes go wide before a jubilant smile breaks across her face. “Are you serious? That’s
amazing!”
In spite of my emotional fatigue, a small wave of satisfaction washes over me. Cyrinne had leveraged
her status and influence to undermine my career at Verdant Moon Herbalists. It felt only right that she
was now facing her own downfall.
“I didn’t play any part in that,” I clarify, though a trace of smugness creeps into my voice. “Daelor must have acted independently.”
“Well, ensure I never cross him,” Oriana comments, glancing around the high–tech facility with a
newfound respect.
I follow her gaze, taking in the polished equipment and immaculate workspace. Daelor has built all this–just for me. The thought stirs something within me, a wave of emotion I quickly try to suppress.
He’s an Alpha King, and I am merely a nobody. A she–wolf with a tangled history and an unpredictable future. I’ve already endured heartbreak from falling for a wolf far beyond my reach. I won’t make that
misstep again.
Plus, in three days, my appointment at Lunar Herb Medical Center will alter everything.
“Want to try out some of this equipment?” Oriana proposes, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nod, thankful for the distraction. “Let’s see what these advanced machines can accomplish.”
I select dried moonflower petals from the sample ingredients and place them into a silver–infused
grinding mortar. The pestle feels perfect in my hand, balanced and weighted just right for optimal
efficiency without putting any strain on me.
“This is remarkable,” I whisper, grinding the petals into a fine, uniform powder. “The quality is
exceptional.”
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I transfer the powder to one of the preparation stations, adding a few drops of distilled silverwort extract. The mixture starts to emit a faint glow an indication of perfect potency.
–
“Wow,” Oriana gasps, observing me closely. “I sometimes forget how skilled you are at this.”
I grin, becoming immersed in the familiar motions. This is my calling crafting remedies that aid in the healing of wolves. For a brief moment, I lose sight of Cyrinne, Alarion, and even my looming appointment.
“You seem happy,” a deep voice notes from the entrance.
Daelor stands there, his tall figure filling the doorway. His silver–gray eyes lock onto me, holding an expression that eludes my understanding.
“We’re enjoying ourselves with your impressive tools,” Oriana responds before I have the chance to reply.
I wipe my hands on a cloth. “The equipment is outstanding. Even Verdant Moon Herbalists lack instruments of this quality.”
“I’m pleased you like it,” he replies, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. “I don’t know a lot about herbal remedies, so I instructed them to get the best available.”
“It’s evident,” I remark, gesturing towards the moon–glass containers. “These alone must have cost a
small fortune.”
Daelor shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s an investment for the future.”
His casual attitude towards the cost highlights the stark contrast between our worlds. To him, this facility is merely an “investment.” To me, it symbolizes an opportunity beyond my wildest dreams.
“So,” Daelor continues, “does the shop satisfy your expectations? Is there anything else you think we need before the opening?”
I consider his question carefully. “The equipment is ideal. However, we’ll need to bring on a few more herbalists – at least two with experience in werewolf remedies.”
“Good,” he nods. “I’ll entrust the recruitment and interviews to you. You know better than I do what we’re looking for.”
I blink, taken aback. “You want me to manage the hiring?”
“Absolutely. This is your realm, not mine.” His faith in me is both flattering and intimidating. “You’ll be in charge of this place, after all.”
“I…” My voice hesitates. The weight of the responsibility feels immense. “Thank you for believing in
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me.”
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“Don’t mention it,” he replies matter–of–factly. “You’re the specialist. It would be unwise not to leverage your expertise.”
His practicality is a breath of fresh air, especially after years spent with Alarion, who never acknowledged my talents or opinions. Yet, I sense there is more to Daelor’s proposal than mere business logic.
“I will do my utmost,” I assure him, meaning it.
The following days blur with a flurry of tasks. I write job descriptions, sift through resumes, and start interviewing potential herbalists. The work fills me with fulfillment, giving my life purpose beyond my personal challenges.
Two days before my scheduled appointment to sever the mate bond with Alarion, my phone rings. I’m surprised to see Esther Riven’s name on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer with caution..
“Aelira, dear,” her warm voice comes through. “How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you,” I respond, uncertain about the reason for her call. Our relationship has always
been friendly, even affectionate, but with the upcoming mate bond severance, communication feels
unexpected. “How have you been? Has your health improved?”
“Much better now, thank you for asking.” There’s a pause before she adds, “Aelira, I was hoping we
could meet. I’ve missed you.
Her request surprises me. “I… I’m not sure if that’s appropriate, given everything.
“Please,” she replies gently. “Just a short visit. I understand if you prefer not to come to the Riven
house. We could meet somewhere neutral.”
I pause momentarily, feeling uncertain. My connection with Esther has always remained distinct from
the chaos of my marriage to Alarion. She has shown me kindness when others in the pack have turned away.
“Roderic won’t be present,” she states, seemingly reading my mind. “Nor will Alarion.”
“Okay,” I concede. “Where do you prefer we meet?”
“How about Lake Restaurant? It’s not far from the Riven residence.”
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We set a time for the next day. After hanging up, I start to contemplate what Esther truly seeks from this meeting. Is it a sincere wish to see me, or is there another motive behind our gathering?
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Chapter 99 New Job
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Upon my arrival at Lake Restaurant the following day, I am taken aback to find not only Esther waiting for me but also Dorothy, the elderly housekeeper who has dedicated decades to serving the Reeds.
“Aelira,” Esther greets me with a warm smile as she rises to envelop me in an embrace. Her frame feels more delicate than I recall, yet her eyes remain lively and aware.
“It’s wonderful to see you looking well,” I respond, returning the hug and then offering a respectful nod to Dorothy. “Good to see you, Dorothy.”
The elder housekeeper offers me a restrained smile, her gaze evaluating me intently.
After we settle into the private dining room Esther has booked, I decide it’s time to address the lingering concern.
“I’m grateful you wanted to meet with me,” I say cautiously, “but I’m curious about the true reason behind this gathering.”
Esther’s expression dims slightly. “You’re always so straightforward, aren’t you? That’s one of the qualities I’ve always admired about you.”
She clasps her hands on the table. “I am upset with my son. His obsession with Cyrinne Wynthor is disheartening.”
I nod, feeling uncertain of how to reply. This information isn’t new to anyone.
“However,” Esther continues, “that’s not the reason I invited you here. Do you recall when I was
poisoned?”
The sudden shift in topic takes me by surprise. “Of course. That was a dreadful period.”
“Indeed,” she affirms. “Everyone thought Susan Blevins was responsible for my poisoning.”
Dorothy shifts uneasily beside her.
“Susan is Dorothy’s daughter–in–law,” Esther clarifies. “She was coerced into confessing to the
poisoning. Her son required costly silver–blood treatment, and the funds she received saved his life.”
I maintain a neutral demeanor, though the revelation doesn’t shock me. I have long harbored doubts about Susan’s culpability.
“I suspected as much,” I confess. “Susan always seemed incapable of such deceit.”
Esther nods in agreement. “You are correct. She was simply a scapegoat.”
Taking a deep breath, her hands tremble slightly. “The person who poisoned me was Roderic.”
The statement lands like a physical impact. I had always suspected that Cyrinne Wynthor bore some
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responsibility, possibly with Roderic’s knowledge. But Roderic himself?
“Your mate?” I whisper in disbelief. “But why?”
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Tears well in Esther’s eyes. “After three decades together, my own mate tried to take my life.”
Dorothy reaches out to gently pat Esther’s hand, her somber expression solidifying the shocking news.
“I always thought it was Cyrinne,” I admit, still grappling with this twist.
Esther shakes her head, sadness evident. “No, it was Roderic–my own mate, and the father of my
son.” Her voice quivers with emotion. “He wanted me out of the way.”
I am left reeling from this revelation that has shattered my assumption of Cyrinne Wynthor being the
culprit.
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