Chapter 23

Esther’s POV

The letter sat on my desk like a snake coiled in silence, daring me to touch it. My pulse had already stuttered once when I spotted the seal, its wax gleaming faintly in the early morning light. My name wasn’t on the front—not my real one, anyway. It never was. Instead, the elegant script read only: Dr. E. Arden. The pseudonym I had hidden behind for years, my mask and shield, my armor against the people who would tear me apart if they knew the truth.

It shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have opened it. Every year, I made myself a silent promise: destroy all letters, invitations, and reminders of a world I couldn’t safely inhabit. Burn them. Bury them. Pretend they didn’t exist.

But my fingers… they itched with curiosity, a reckless, ungrateful part of me that still hoped. That still believed.

So I tore the seal. I unfolded the crisp parchment.

“Esteemed Dr. Arden,

The Council of Healers formally invites you to present at this year’s Annual Medical Summit as principal investigator. Your groundbreaking work on feral suppression therapies has revolutionized our approach to managing outbreaks. The Council, as well as our primary benefactor, specifically requested your presence.”

My chest clenched. Principal investigator. My work. My name—well, the name I’d chosen to survive—splashed across the largest medical gathering in the country. The words should have been a triumph, a tiny explosion of joy, proof that I was more than Nicholas’s discarded mate, more than a branded shadow. Proof that I was still a healer, still someone who mattered.

And yet, just beneath the flicker of pride, a tidal wave of dread rolled over me.

The Council wanted me in person. And not just them—the mysterious benefactor had requested me by name.

They wanted me out in the open.

I dropped the letter onto the desk as though it burned. “No,” I whispered aloud. “I can’t.”

But even as the word left my lips, my eyes darted toward the adjoining room. Carl, my son and my sweet little boy.

He sat on the floor with a book splayed across his lap, shoulders hunched in that way that made my chest tighten. Beside him, Sofia chattered endlessly, her hands dancing through the air as she tried to elicit laughter from him. He smiled—weakly, quietly—but his eyes… oh, those eyes. Shadowed pools of fear, of knowledge he was far too young to bear.

If my research could be tested, if it could be shared, if it could advance, it might save him. Might save countless others like him. Children who had inherited the same twisted legacy I had survived.

But stepping onto that stage was more than stepping into a spotlight. It was like walking into a trap. It was lifting the veil that had protected us for six long, fragile years. If Nicholas ever saw me… if he ever discovered that Carl and Sofia existed…

The thought made my stomach knot, my hands curl into trembling fists.

A soft knock startled me. I spun around, shoving the letter under a stack of my carefully organized notes as if hiding it from the world could make the threat vanish.

Kevin leaned in the doorway, arms folded casually, blue eyes sharp and unnervingly perceptive. He always knew. Always.

“You’ve read it,” he said simply.

My pulse quickened. I bristled, a reflexive shield. “You shouldn’t walk into my office unannounced.”

“You left the door cracked,” he said, amusement flickering at the corners of his mouth. Then his tone softened. “So… what will you do?”

“I’ll decline,” I said firmly, before my own hesitation betrayed me. “Just like every other year.”

Kevin stepped inside, the quiet authority of him filling the room. For six years, he had been my anchor, a steady hand in the chaos of my life. And yet, I still didn’t want him reading my every thought.

“You’ve declined three years in a row,” he reminded me. “And each time, you’ve buried yourself deeper in guilt. You want your work to matter, Esther. You want people to see the healer you’ve become.”

“I don’t need recognition,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. “I need safety.”

“For your children,” he said quietly, and the words landed with the weight of iron.

Carl and Sofia. My fragile little family. Their safety had always outweighed my own. Always.

Kevin’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw him not as the Alpha King who commanded loyalty and fear, but as the man who had protected me when I had nothing.

“You’ve hidden behind Arden for too long,” he said. “You deserve to step into the light, even if just for a moment. You’ve earned it.”

I turned away from him, staring out the window. Rain streaked the glass, blurring the world outside the way tears often blurred my vision. The same rain, I remembered, that had fallen the night I gave birth here, alone, broken, terrified. I had sworn that night—sworn with every fiber of my being—that Nicholas’s shadow would never touch me again.

“What if they see me?” I whispered.

“Who?” Kevin asked.

The word hovered on my tongue, but I could not speak it. Nicholas. His name was fire and ruin, poison and chains.

I swallowed it back and muttered instead, “Anyone who thinks me dead.”

Kevin stepped closer. “Esther. Do you trust me?”

I looked at him then. The man who had carried the burdens of leadership, the dangers of his position, and still found the time, the patience, the courage to protect a broken healer and her children.

“Yes,” I admitted softly, my voice shaking.

“Then trust me when I say I’ll keep you safe,” he said. “Attend the summit. No one will know who you really are. You’ll share your work, help others, and then return here. That’s all.”

It sounded deceptively simple. But life had never given me simple choices.

Still, I glanced back at Carl through the doorway. Saw the way he leaned into Sofia’s shoulder, how her laughter was the fragile bridge holding him together. My decision settled like stone in my chest. If there was even the tiniest chance my work could save him, I had no choice.

I lifted my chin, forcing strength into my voice. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Kevin’s lips curved into the faintest smile. Relief, pride, something unspoken passed through him. “Good.”

“But only under one condition,” I added quickly, before the weight of the decision could uncoil into fear. “My real name is never spoken. Not to the Council, not to the benefactor, not to anyone. I am Dr. E. Arden. Nothing more.”

He nodded solemnly. “As you wish.”

When he left, I sank into my chair, pressing trembling hands against my face. The letter still lay there, burning through my notes, a symbol of opportunity and threat tangled in one.

The rain had stopped outside, but inside, my storm had only begun.

I thought of Nicholas, of the danger waiting beyond the shadows. I thought of my children, and of the responsibility I carried not just to them but to every cursed soul who could be saved by my work. My heart beat wild and uneven. There was excitement, yes, but fear roared louder beneath it.

If I survived this… if I returned intact, unexposed, and alive… perhaps the world could once again see me. Perhaps my work could mean more than survival.

Perhaps, just perhaps, I could start to reclaim the life that had been stolen from me.

And with that thought, terrifying and thrilling in equal measure, I unfolded the letter once more, scanning the words as though reading them for the first time. My name, Dr. E. Arden, stared back at me. A mask. A lifeline. A promise.