A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs-Chapter 24: A lesson from Zenon

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.

Chapter 24: A lesson from Zenon

{Elira}

~**^**~

Two days later...

I woke before dawn, my pulse already dancing like frantic wings against my ribs.

Today was the day Zenon would tutor me.

Steam rose around me in the bath, but instead of calming me, it made my chest feel tighter. My mind spun in circles:

What if I stutter?

What if he finds me as useless as he probably already believes?

When I brushed my hair, my fingers trembled so badly I had to pause.

At breakfast, the rice on my spoon barely made it halfway to my mouth before I set it down again. My stomach was too knotted to swallow.

The table felt quieter than usual. Alpha Cyprus spoke gently to me, asking if I slept well, but my answer came out faint. My throat was too dry.

Lennon glanced at me, a small crease between his brows. Rennon’s gaze held something softer—encouragement, maybe.

Zenon, as always, didn’t look at me at all. I was his least favourite face to look at.

When breakfast ended, Zenon rose, the scrape of his chair against the floor oddly loud in my ears.

Immediately, I pushed back my chair. My legs felt oddly weak.

As I stepped around the table to follow him, Lennon leaned slightly toward me, voice low so only I could hear:

"You’ve got this, Elira."

I managed a faint nod, drawing the warmth of those words around me like a thin shawl.

Zenon walked ahead, never once glancing back. His posture was rigid, each step unhurried but sure.

I trailed behind, trying to quiet my pounding heart.

When we reached his study on the third floor, the air felt heavier in some way.

Zenon opened the door, stepping in without a word.

"Wait outside," he ordered curtly.

I paused by the threshold, lowering my gaze to the polished floor. My palms felt damp.

Minutes felt like hours before he opened the door again. His eyes met mine briefly—sharp, assessing—and then flicked away.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside.

I obeyed, walking in carefully, shoulders tense. The room smelled strangely familiar, but of course, I was too tense to place the fragrance. My nerves drowned out any thought of it.

My chest felt tight in a way I couldn’t name.

Zenon didn’t offer me a seat. Instead, he stood by the desk, arms crossed. His gaze was cutting, cold.

"Before we begin," his voice was calm, but carried a bite sharp as steel. "ESA isn’t a place for the weak. Someone who can’t even stand up to her own cousin has no business there."

The words were quiet, but they landed like heavy stones on my chest.

Heat prickled behind my eyes. But I forced myself to stand straighter, gripping my own wrist to stop it from trembling.

So, he hadn’t truly agreed to teach me from his heart. I had known, but witnessing it first-hand still hurt.

Zenon finally gestured to the chair. "Sit."

I obeyed, lowering myself onto the seat. My heart wouldn’t stop hammering.

"Essay is part of the entrance exams," he began. "And there, no one will spoon-feed you."

He slid a single blank sheet of paper across the desk, along with a black-ink pen.

"The topic is, ’Why do you want to get into ESA?’"

The topic sounded strange to me. My fingers hovered over the paper, frozen. My mind was a tangle of empty thoughts and rising panic.

Zenon’s eyes pinned me in place. "You have twenty-eight minutes. Start."

What do I even say?

My pulse roared in my ears. I forced my hand to move, scratching out clumsy sentences, scattered and lifeless.

Words that felt small, as though even my handwriting whispered that I was lacking.

When I paused too long, searching for the next thought, Zenon’s gaze sharpened.

"Time’s up," he cut in. His tone made me flinch.

I swallowed hard, pushing the paper across the desk with trembling fingers.

He read silently, expression darkening with every line. His brows drew together until the crease between them looked deep enough to split stone.

Without a word, he picked up his red pen, scratched something onto the paper, then crushed it in his fist and tossed it back at me.

It landed on the desk in front of me after hitting my forehead. I hesitated, then smoothed it open.

He gave me a ’0’—zero solid point.

"This is trash," he said. "No zeal, no conviction. ESA will not pity you. They will dump you straight outside their gates."

His words burned worse than the number itself.

Then he handed me another blank sheet. "Again."

My throat felt raw, but I forced my shaking hand to write again, this time taking in the cold edges of what he had said.

When I handed it back, he read silently, jaw tight. Then:

He gave me fifteen points this time.

And right as I was wondering if this was good progress or not, he spoke.

"Still worthless," Zenon muttered, his voice low, but each word striking like a whip. "ESA doesn’t admit the pitiable, weak or useless people. Think again."

He slid over another plain sheet, the white glaring against the dark wood.

"Last chance," he said. His gaze pinned me, sharp and cold. "Make it count."

I stared at the blank page, the pen heavy in my hand. The ache behind my eyes deepened. My chest hurt, as if my own ribs were trying to keep me from breathing.

But then... I thought of why I truly wanted this. Beyond escaping Regina. Beyond wanting to learn.

I wanted to become someone new. Someone worthy of the fate that chose me.

Slowly, words came. Honest words. Not asking for pity—but promising what I could do if given a chance.

I wrote about the scars of being overlooked, yes, but also my determination to rise.

To lead. To rule. To change things for someone else like me.

When I finished, my hand was cramping. I pushed the sheet to him, my heart beating so hard I thought it might tear free.

Zenon’s eyes moved over each line, slower this time. His expression was unreadable, but something—something felt different in the air.

Then he reached for his red pen. He paused for a breath before he moved.

He passed the sheet to me so I could look at my score.

90.

I got a ninety!

I blinked. My chest felt suddenly lighter, as if something had been lifted. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes.

But right as I was getting deep into my emotions, Zenon ruined it.

"We are done. Leave," he announced quietly. "And take your trash with you." freēnovelkiss.com

I stood up and walked towards the door with the three versions of my essay. At the door, I stopped briefly and turned to him. My voice came out soft, but steady.

"Thank you... Sir."

He didn’t reply.

Outside his study door, I pressed a hand to my chest. My legs felt weak, my breath shaky—but my heart held something stubborn and new.

A single tear slipped free, warm against my cheek.

I had really outdone myself this time.

Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om