My Love Inappropriate. Her Scandal Take the Blame. Get Lost, Uncle! I Married the Mad Alpha! Chapter 08

My Love Inappropriate. Her Scandal Take the Blame. Get Lost, Uncle! I Married the Mad Alpha! Chapter 08

The memorial service was scheduled for Friday. The flight to New York took a little over five hours.

Damian sat beside me in a perfectly tailored black suit, not a single crease in sight, with a glass of whiskey in one hand.

He was half Italian and half Belgian, with sharply defined features and gray-blue eyes that always looked almost unnervingly cold.

As the youngest Alpha in the Moretti family, he held considerable influence in both the business world and the Wolf Council.

People called him dangerous and obsessive. Some even claimed that once he chose his prey, he would never let go.

Yet in the five years we had been married, we had never had a serious conflict.

He managed his corporate empire and family affairs, while I ran my own film company. Whenever we attended formal events together, he used his Alpha presence to keep anyone with malicious intentions away from me, and I dealt with the guests who approached him solely for profit.

Our marriage had been far easier than I once imagined.

After the cabin lights dimmed, I leaned against the window and closed my eyes.

I did not know how long had passed before a slight weight settled over my shoulders.

It was a neatly folded jacket.

—

I kept my eyes closed and pretended not to notice.

Damian leaned back and opened the file in his hands as if he had done nothing at all.

He had always been like this. He never questioned or pressured me, never expected thanks, and simply prepared whatever I might need before placing it within easy reach.

After a while, he glanced down at me.

“Are you hurting?”

“No.”

“Your scent says otherwise. It smells like grief.”

I opened my eyes.

One werewolf could rarely hide their emotions completely from another, especially not from an Alpha with senses as sharp as Damian’s.

He pushed the whiskey toward me.

“Take a sip and sleep. Once we land, I’ll deal with those people.”

I did not touch the glass. I only stared at the clouds beyond the window.

Adrian was dead.

From the moment the call came, the news had made it difficult to breathe.

I had thought I no longer cared. Five years had passed, and after

—

leaving New York, I had never once reached out to him.

But the pressure in my chest never eased.

It remained when the plane landed, when the car drove down Fifth Avenue, and when I entered the cathedral and saw the enlarged memorial portrait.

Adrian wore a dark gray suit in the photograph. His expression was as stern as I remembered, though his eyes seemed slightly softer.

I stood there staring at him for a long time.

Then a small figure slammed into my arms.

“Mommy, you finally came back!”

The boy in the little black suit looked up at me, his nose red from crying.

I froze before crouching to wipe away his tears.

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m not your mother.”

He cried even harder, his shoulders shaking with every sob.

“But Daddy said… Daddy said you’d protect me like a mommy would. Everyone keeps bullying me. You’re the only one who’ll help me.”

I could not make myself push him away, so I gathered him back into my arms.

The sweet scent unique to a young wolf was threaded with cedar, making it impossible for me to push him away.

The Carter relatives surrounding us were all staring. Some looked

—

shocked, some guarded, and others were already calculating how
they could seize custody of the child and gain control of the fortune
in his name.

I ignored them.

The boy raised his head and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“They all said you wouldn’t come back. They said you have a
wonderful life now and don’t care about Daddy or me.”

I did not answer. I only held him a little closer.

Damian entered the cathedral moments later and stopped two steps
away.

He did not release any Alpha dominance. He merely swept his cold
gaze across the room, and the greedy, calculating scents around us
immediately subsided.

The elderly butler approached and lowered his voice.

“Miss Irene, Mr. Carter left instructions before his death. He said that
if you were willing to return, you should go to his study on Long
Island. There’s a letter there for you.”

—

I nodded and looked down at the boy still clinging to me.

“What’s your name?”

“Leo,” he whispered. “Daddy named me after you. He said you always loved the stars.”

My throat tightened.

Damian stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll go to Long Island tomorrow. Tonight, rest.”

I looked up at him, grateful for his steadiness.

He did not ask questions. He did not push. He simply stood beside me, a quiet anchor in the storm.

I turned back to Leo and took his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

He nodded, his small fingers curling around mine.

As we walked out of the cathedral, I could feel the Carter relatives’ eyes on us—watching, calculating, waiting.

But I had Damian beside me. And I had Leo’s hand in mine.

Whatever came next, I would face it head-on.

I had survived worse.

I had survived Adrian.