Lennox’s POV

I emptied the bottle of whiskey and shoved it away, the glass clinking loudly against the wooden table. Levi’s words kept ringing in my head for the past few hours, circling like vultures refusing to let me breathe.

“I forgave her.” “I never stopped loving her.” “I’m going to court Olivia—openly.”

I gritted my teeth, my fingers curling into fists on the table. Why the hell was he forgiving her? Why was he so damn eager to run back to the very person who shattered him?

I could still remember the nights Levi broke down when he thought no one was looking. I remember watching my brother—proud, unshakeable Levi—turn into a ghost of himself, hollowed out by a heartbreak none of us could truly understand. Just like me, he had loved her fiercely, and when she hurt him, it gutted him.

And now… he’s talking about courting her? Loving her again?

“I’m done punishing both of us for the past.”

Those words struck harder than I wanted to admit. I hated them because deep down, I knew they mirrored something I hadn’t been willing to face. That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t mad at Levi for forgiving her. I was mad because I couldn’t.

I stood up abruptly, the chair screeching back against the floor. My heart was pounding too fast, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. I paced the room, fists still clenched, my eyes burning.

What Olivia did to Levi might be forgivable. But what she did to me? No one knew. Not Levi. Not Louis. No one. And I didn’t want to remember it either. But Levi’s confession had ripped the lid off a box I had sealed shut years ago.

The memory came flooding back—raw, vivid, painful. I slammed my fist into the wall, breathing heavily. A crack formed in the plaster, but I didn’t care. I needed the pain. I needed something real to anchor me.

I couldn’t do what Levi was doing. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But… damn it, I envied him. His clarity. His courage. His ability to say he still loved her, despite everything.

I sat back down, this time slower. My hand throbbed, but the ache was nothing compared to what twisted inside my chest. And for the first time in years, I whispered the truth aloud.

“I still love her, too.”

The words felt foreign on my tongue. Bitter. But true. I buried my face in my hands, trying to silence the war in my heart when suddenly a sharp knock landed on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I frowned, dragging my palms down my face before yelling, “What?”

The door creaked open, and one of the maids poked her head in nervously. “Alpha Lennox… Lady Anita is asking to see you. She says it’s important.”

My jaw clenched instantly. Of course, she was. I looked away, muttering a curse under my breath. I didn’t have time for Anita’s drama—not tonight, not ever, if I had it my way. But then the maid added softly, “She’s not feeling well today… she’s been coughing blood again.”

Damn it. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I had made a promise once—back when I thought having a concubine would be enough to distract me from the hole Olivia left in me. Anita had been persistent, pretty, and obedient. But never Olivia. Never close.

With a sigh that came from deep in my chest, I pushed up from the chair, my hand still aching from where I’d slammed it into the wall. “Fine,” I muttered.

The walk down the corridor felt heavier than it should. Guilt mixed with frustration in my veins like poison. I knocked once on her door before pushing it open. The room smelled of expensive perfume and something faintly metallic—medicine, maybe. Anita sat propped up on the bed, wrapped in a silk robe, her skin paler than usual, but her lips painted a deep red that screamed anything but sick.

Her eyes found mine immediately, and she gave me a small, sly smile. “Look who finally decided to come.”

I didn’t respond. I just stepped in, closing the door behind me.

She tilted her head. “I was starting to think you all forgot about me.”

“We’ve all been busy,” I said flatly.

She chuckled, her voice soft and dry. “No. You’ve been avoiding me. Again.”

I didn’t deny it. She patted the space beside her on the bed. “Come. Sit with me.”

Reluctantly, I did—but on the edge, keeping distance. She stared at me for a beat before saying softly, “I missed you.”

I looked away. “Don’t start.”

She reached for my hand, but I pulled it back. Her expression didn’t falter. Then, slowly, Anita leaned in, her lips brushing the side of my face. I turned my head, dodging her mouth.

“I said don’t,” I muttered, sharper this time.

She paused… but then, without a word, she slipped off the bed and knelt in front of me. My eyes narrowed as she reached for my belt, fingers nimble.

“Anita.” My voice was low. Warning.

“I just want to make you feel better,” she said, her tone sultry but shaky.

“I’m not in the mood.”

She looked up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Please… just let me… I’m sick, Lennox. I miss this.”

I stiffened. She saw the hesitation flicker in my expression and pounced on it emotionally.

“You weren’t there yesterday when I fainted in the garden. You didn’t visit when the doctor said the infection is spreading. I’m scared,” she whispered. “I just want to feel close to you…”

I stared at her—on her knees, trembling, playing every card she had. Manipulation or not, the weight of her words pulled at me. I closed my eyes, my jaw tightening. I wasn’t in the mood, but I couldn’t say no.

Anita’s fingers moved to my belt, slowly, like she was afraid I’d stop her again. I didn’t move. I just sat there, letting her make the choice. I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. I was tired of the voices in my head—tired of Levi’s words, tired of feeling everything I didn’t want to feel. Maybe this would shut it all down. Maybe she could help me forget…

She undid my belt, and the small click of the buckle sounded too loud in the quiet room. Her warm breath touched my skin, then her lips. Soft. Careful. Like she was testing my limits.

I stayed still. She kissed my abdomen, moving lower, and I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my body locked with tension. Her hands were warm on my thighs, stroking gently, almost worshipfully. But all I could feel was emptiness where something should have been.

This wasn’t passion. It was punishment. Her mouth took my cock, and I hissed sharply through clenched teeth. She moved with a practiced rhythm, slow and deliberate, like she knew exactly how to use every second to her advantage. Like she wanted to pleasure me.

But I didn’t feel it. Not for a moment. My hands fisted in the sheets beside me, not in her hair. I wouldn’t give her that intimacy. I kept my eyes open, staring blankly ahead, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. My breath came faster, but it wasn’t pleasure that had my heart racing. It was the storm. The guilt. The rage. And behind it all, the quiet, aching voice that whispered Olivia’s name in my head.

In place of Anita, I wanted Olivia. I wanted her on her knees, driving me insane with her mouth. Fuck! I desired that woman!

Anita’s rhythm quickened, sensing my restraint. She hummed softly, trying to coax a reaction from me, something real. But I couldn’t give it to her. I felt nothing… my cock was just semi-hard.

I stared down at her for a moment—her head bowed, her hands braced on my thighs, her eyes fluttering shut as if she could make me cum. But there was nothing exciting about this.

Tired of it. I reached down to stop her when suddenly the door burst open, and I looked up, expecting one of my brothers. But to my horror, it wasn’t any of them.

It was Olivia.