Bonds of the Alpha Billionaire (Maya and Alex)

Chapter 136

-Maya's POV-

The only thought I could hold onto was their laughter. I knew I'd hear it again soon. I had it saved on my phone, a recording I played over and over again. My wolf felt him first, scrambling to her feet the moment his scent hit the air. I could never quite describe it, that scent, something vaguely like chocolate, but whatever it was, it always pulled me towards him. Still, I didn't turn around, acknowledge his presence. He sat down quietly, keeping a space between us. He dipped his feet in the cool water of the lake, staring out in silence. I didn't say anything either. There wasn't anything left to say, not right now. So we sat there, the silence thick and heavy.

Honestly, I don't even know why I spoke first. It was like my lips moved on their own. "I didn't know you had this place," I said, surprised by the sound of my own voice breaking the quiet.

A sigh escaped him. "I bought it after..." His voice trailed off, the sentence left unfinished.

"After you threw me out," I filled in the blank for him.

He took a deep breath, but didn't answer. The silence stretched on again, broken only by the crickets chirping in the distance then he spoke again, "I wouldn't have thrown you out. I wouldn't have done what I did if I had known..." his voice faded again.

"If you had known I was carrying your children?" I finished for him again.

He nodded, a slow, heavy nod. "I would have..."

"Would have what?" I cut him off, my voice suddenly sharp. "Would have just let me stay? Never asked me about the pictures, never gotten angry? Pretended like everything was okay between us while the hate slowly festered? Or maybe you would have taken them away the moment they were born? Just one sentence, Alex. That's all it would have taken. One sentence to ask me if it was true, but you didn't." Another sigh. "I know, and I'm sorry."

I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Sorry doesn't change anything. Doesn't change what you did. And what about Adrian? Nothing excuses what Ivan's doing, it's not your fault you have a power hungry asshole for a father, who by the way, is also responsible for my brother's death. But Adrian? You deserve every bit of hate he throws at you. You destroyed his life because of a lie."

"I know," he whispered, his voice flat with resignation. "I'm not a good person. The worst, probably. Everyone should hate me. You should hate me."

I can't. That no matter what you do,

their chirping, the only sound besides the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. My

fix this," He muttered, "I don't know

here. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I pushed you away, it felt inevitable, like we were always going to end up together. But then there's Ivan, and there's Miranda, and neither of us knew it was

- it was all still

was crying until I felt them tracing a path down my cheeks. Wiping them away angrily, I stood up. My body ached, a

turmoil inside me. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman looking back. My copper hair, usually a source of pride, was a

I looked wrong, broken.

flooding back then, a relentless torrent of images and emotions. The sting of rejection, the cold, suffocating hate from my father, every moment I'd allowed Ivan near me, every

pressure building behind my eyes. I needed it to stop, this constant ache that seemed to permeate every

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11:59 AM

Chapter 136

counter. Without a second thought, I grabbed them, the cold metal a contrast to

I reached for a section of my hair at shoulder length. The act felt strangely detached, almost robotic. But the moment the blades closed around the hair, a jolt of electricity shot through me. It was like a physical manifestation of the emotional pain, a raw, searing

the world, at myself, at everything that felt

coming in ragged gasps. Finally, with a choked sob, I let the scissors fall from my numb fingers. It clattered to the floor with a hollow thud,

pain didn't disappear. It was still there, a dull throb beneath the surface. But for a moment, the act of cutting my hair had offered a strange sense of release, a way to externalize the turmoil within. Looking around at the mess I'd created, I knew it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it

cold bathroom floor, the sobs eventually turning into dry, shuddering gasps, and then a knock on the door startled me. It was Natalia's voice, laced with concern. "Amaya, can I come