The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 91: Crying Over Him
Aurora’s POV
I stared into the mirror; the reflection looking back at me was nothing like me. My face was pale, my lips still slightly swollen, and my eyes... they were red and full of unshed tears.
My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get enough air, no matter how hard I tried.
"Stop crying, you idiot. Stop crying," I hissed at my reflection, my voice trembling in the empty room. I roughly wiped the tears that had fallen off with the backs of my palms. "Stop being a pathetic bitch."
But the tears didn’t care about my pride. They kept coming, hot and relentless, dripping off my chin and onto my shaking hands.
I didn’t even know why I was crying. I should have been relieved. Raymond was leaving. He was going to France, and that meant the shadow he cast over my life was finally moving across the ocean. It meant I could finally breathe. It meant I could walk into the pack house tomorrow morning, look Alpha Oliver in the eye, and love him with the devotion he actually deserved.
Oliver was the light. He was the man who wanted to cherish me, the man who had offered me a world of safety.
And yet, here I was in the middle of the night, standing before my dressing mirror, sobbing, bawling my eyes out. I was wailing for a man who had just looked me in the eye and told me I was a game. A man who admitted he only stayed because I was "playing hard to get."
The worst part? The part that made me want to scream?
I was standing here breaking my heart for my parents’ killer. The man who represented everything I was supposed to hate had just discarded me like a bored child with a broken toy, and I was mourning him like I’d lost something precious.
"Stop this, Aurora!" I snapped at myself.
I had to pull myself together. In seven hours, I had to be at the palace. I had to be the professional, composed assistant to the Alpha King. I had to hide the fact that I had spent the night crying over another man.
"Oliver," I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to conjure his face—his blue eyes, his protective warmth. "I’ll focus on you. I promise. I’ll make myself forget Raymond ever existed."
But as I looked back at the mirror, I knew the truth. You don’t just forget the man who broke you, even if you hate him for it.
By morning, I stood before the iron gates of the palace. I had spent the last three hours frantically pressing cold spoons against my eyes and layering concealer over the dark circles that refused to fade. I looked composed, but I felt like I could collapse at any moment.
Forget him, I commanded myself, taking a steadying breath before reaching for the heavy oak handle. Focus on the man who actually wants you.
I pushed the door open.
Oliver was already there, bathed in the early morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He looked perfect—impeccably dressed, his red hair neatly styled, the very image of a King in control. But the moment his blue eyes landed on me, his expression shifted. The professional mask he usually wore for the world didn’t just slip; it shattered.
"Aurora," he said, his voice dropping into that low, protective rumble that always made my skin prickle.
He didn’t stay behind his desk. He moved fast, crossing the room in seconds to stand directly in front of me. I tried to look down, to hide the lingering puffiness of my lids, but he reached out, his warm fingers cupping my chin to tilt my face up to his.
"Your eyes," he whispered, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that made my throat tighten. "You’ve been crying. All night."
I tried to force a fake smile. "It’s nothing, Oliver. Just a late night and a bit of a headache."
"Don’t lie to me," he growled softly, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp intensity. He searched my face as if he could see every tear I’d shed in the dark. "What happened?"
I swallowed hard and stepped back, my heart racing. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell the Alpha King that I was mourning the man he might considered his greatest rival.
"Nobody," I lied, my voice shaking. "I just... I didn’t sleep well. I’m fine, I promise. I’m here to work."
Oliver didn’t move. He stood there, his hands still hovering in the air where my face had been, a look of agonized frustration crossing his features. For a second, he looked almost... guilty.
"You aren’t fine," he said firmly. He reached out again, but this time he didn’t touch my face. He took my hand, his grip firm and anchoring. "You don’t have to be ’the assistant’ today, Aurora. Talk to me. Tell me what happened."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and the pain in my heart became unbearable. Here was the man who had confessed he wanted to cherish me, while the man I had given my heart to had told me I was a game.
"I just need to stay busy," I whispered, a single, traitorous tear escaping and rolling down my cheek. "Please, Oliver. Just let me work."
He stared at me for a long beat, his jaw tightening. I saw his gaze drop to my hand, and for a split second, his eyes narrowed as if he were looking for a mark—a bruise, a stain, something to explain the broken girl standing in front of him.
"Fine," he finally said, though his voice was thick with unspoken emotion. "But you aren’t leaving my sight today. You stay in this office. With me."
He guided me to the small velvet armchair by the window. He pressed a glass of water into my hands, his fingers lingering against mine as if he were trying to transfer some of his strength into my shaking body. I took a sip, the cool liquid doing nothing to soothe the burning tightness in my throat.
Oliver sat across from me, his long legs nearly brushing mine. He didn’t pick up a pen or look at a single file. He just sat there, staring at me with a worry so profound it made my heart ache. I wondered what was going on in that brilliant, royal mind of his. I wondered what he would think if he realized I wasn’t just tired—that I was mourning the loss of another man. If he knew I had let myself fall for another man, would he still look at me with this much devotion?
Oliver is perfect, I screamed at myself internally. He is right here. He is the one holding you. Aurora, stop this.
I tried to pull myself together, setting the glass down and moving toward my workstation. I began to pull up the morning reports, but the air in the room felt thick. Every time I glanced up, Oliver’s eyes were on me. He wasn’t even pretending to work. He was watching my every breath, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to solve a puzzle he couldn’t quite grasp.
The silence was broken by the sharp buzz of his phone. He answered it quickly. "Yes... is it ready? Good."
He hung up and turned to me. The heavy intensity in his gaze shifted into something softer.
"Aurora," he said, standing up and reaching for my hand again. "I want to show you something."
