Piss Off, Alpha! You Lost Me Forever-Chapter 76 Grandpa Birthday II

SOPHIA’S POV

The car ride to Stone Manor was completely silent.

Neither of us spoke. The driver kept his eyes on the road. I sat in the back with the pot roast on my lap, watching the city when my phone buzzed. George’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered immediately.

"Sophia, my dear." His voice was warm. "I heard you’re coming tonight. That made my day."

"Happy almost-birthday, sir." I smiled despite everything. "I’m bringing your pot roast. The one you like."

"You remembered." He sounded happy. "That boy of mine doesn’t deserve you. Never did."

"George-"

"Don’t argue with an old man on his birthday." He chuckled. "Just get here safe. That’s all I want."

"I will. I promise."

"Good girl. See you soon."

The call ended and I held the phone against my chest for a moment. George had always been like that. He was direct and honest and completely unconcerned with pack politics or social games. He saw people for who they really were. He always had.

The phone call I had with him now made me smile.

It reminded me why I was doing this, not for Damien but for George. Because he was a good man who deserved to have people who cared about him show up on his birthday.

We arrived at Stone Manor.

The car stopped and the driver opened my door. I gathered the pot roast and my gift bag and stepped out. Several cars were already parked in the driveway.

I walked toward the entrance. The door opened before I reached it. Helen stood there, Damien’s mother. She looked me up and down with disgust.

What a great start to this gathering.

"Well. You finally decided to show up." Helen’s voice was loud enough for everyone inside to hear. "We’ve been waiting. George has been asking where you are. It’s incredibly rude to keep an eighty-year-old man waiting, Sophia."

My jaw tightened. Helen had never liked me. Even during the marriage she’d made it clear I wasn’t good enough for her son.

"I came straight from the hospital," I said. "I had a long shift."

"How inconvenient for us all." Helen stepped aside to let me in.

"Helen." The voice came from behind her. The tone was deep and commanding. George appeared in the doorway, leaning on his cane but standing tall. His white hair was neatly combed and he glared at Helen.

"What exactly do you think you’re doing?" George asked.

Helen blinked in surprise "Father, I was simply pointing out that Sophia-"

"You were being cruel to a woman who drove here after working all day to cook your father’s favorite meal." George snapped at her. "She’s here. She came. That’s what matters. I suggest you apologize and find something better to do with your evening than making people feel unwelcome in my home."

Helen’s face flushed red. Her mouth opened then closed. She looked around, clearly aware that several family members were watching. She looked embarrassed.

"I... yes. I apologize, Sophia." The words came out stiff and forced but they were there.

George nodded. Then his expression softened completely as he turned to me. "Come here, sweetheart. Let me look at you."

I set the pot roast down on a side table and went to him. He pulled me into a gentle hug. His arms were thinner than I remembered.

"How are you really doing?" he asked quietly. "And don’t give me the polite answer. Give me the real one."

"It’s hard, George." My voice was small. "Everything is hard right now."

"I know. I’ve watched." He squeezed my hand. "But you’re still standing. That counts for something."

He guided me inside.

The manor was warm and bright with candles and fresh flowers. Family members gathered in the living room. They all had drinks in their hands. I saw Damien across the room with Tiffany beside him as always. Simon stood nearby looking uncomfortable that I was here.

"I brought you something." I turned back to George and pulled the gift bag from where I’d set it down. "It’s not much. I hope you like it."

George took the bag and reached inside. He pulled out a pair of shoes. It was a pair of simple, brown leather shoes. They were comfortable. I picked them because they seemed like the kind of shoes that would be good for elderly people. I’d spent hours finding them, searching for the perfect pair that would feel like walking on clouds.

George turned looked at them. He ran his fingers along the soft leather. The shoes weren’t flashy or expensive, but deeply personal. I chose them with care and love.

"These are perfect." He looked up at me, and I saw small tears in his old eyes. "Exactly what these old feet need. Thank you, Sophia."

"You deserve comfortable shoes on your birthday." I smiled. "Happy birthday, George."

He hugged the shoes against his chest like they were made of gold. "Better than anything else I’ll receive tonight. You tell everyone that."

I laughed softly and squeezed his hand before excusing myself to the kitchen. I needed to get the pot roast into the oven and start on the birthday pie I’d promised George.

He’d mentioned it last week during one of our phone calls. His late wife used to make him apple pie every year. He missed it terribly.

I set the pot roast in the oven and began gathering ingredients for the pie. I started cooking.

I was rolling out the pie crust when the kitchen door opened. It was Declan. Damien’s younger brother.

I hadn’t seen him in a while and I was glad. He was loud and had always been a bit entitled. He walked in like he owned the place, grabbing an apple from the counter and taking a bite.

"So what’s for dinner?" he asked through a mouthful. "Mom said you’re cooking tonight. I’m starving. We’ve been waiting forever."

"I’m making pot roast for George and a pie for his birthday." I didn’t look up from the crust.

Declan’s chewing slowed. He looked at the pie in progress, then at the single pot roast dish in the oven. He frowned.

"That’s it? Just a pot roast and a pie?" He sounded genuinely offended. "Come on, Sophia. You used to make a whole spread. Remember Thanksgiving? Three courses. Desserts. That amazing soup." He gestured around the kitchen like expecting more dishes to appear. "This is George’s eightieth birthday. You can’t just show up with one dish and a pie."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I was so offended at his comment but I wouldn’t make a fuss.

I’d calm myself for George.

I gritted my teeth. "I came straight from a twelve-hour hospital shift, Declan." My voice stayed calm. "I made George’s favorite meal and his favorite dessert. That’s what matters to him. Not a five-course spread to impress everyone else."

"But it’s a big celebration. People are expecting more." He crossed his arms. "You’re supposed to be a good cook. Everyone knows that. This is kind of embarrassing honestly."

I finally looked up at him.

"If you’d like more food, you’re welcome to cook it yourself. Otherwise, I suggest you appreciate what’s being made for a man who specifically asked for exactly this."

Declan opened his mouth to argue further but something in my expression must have stopped him. He looked away first, grabbing another apple.

"Whatever. Just thought you should know people are expecting better." He left the kitchen without another word.

Good riddance.