Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 145: Facing the Past

Chapter 145: Facing the Past

TERESA’S P.O.V.

The my father’s words clung to me like a suffocating shroud as I clung to Lucian’s embrace, my tears soaking through his shirt. His warmth was the only thing grounding me in that moment, his steady voice murmuring reassurances into my ear.

"I’m here, my love," Lucian whispered, his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back. "We’ll figure this out. Whatever you need, I’ll handle it. You just need to breathe for me, okay?"

His words were a balm, but the storm inside me refused to calm. Then it struck me—I needed to call Luke.

I pulled back suddenly, breaking free of Lucian’s hold. His sightless eyes followed my movements as I crouched down and snatched the shattered phone from the ground. My hands trembled as I fumbled to piece it together and locate Luke’s contact.

"Teresa," Lucian said softly, his brows furrowing in concern. "What are you doing?"

"I need to call Luke," I replied, my voice shaky and raw from crying.

Lucian’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing, allowing me the space to act. I pressed the call button, and the line rang, each buzz tightening the knot in my chest.

Finally, Luke’s voice came through, loud and exasperated. "Teresa! It’s about damn time. You’ve been back for days, and you haven’t come to see me? Are you serious right now?"

I winced, his scolding voice momentarily cutting through my anxiety. "Luke, I—I’m sorry," I stammered. "I just got back yesterday, and I was exhausted after the trip. Then this morning, I had to follow Lucian to the company. I swear, I was going to call you, but—"

"You were going to call me?" he interrupted. "Teresa, I’m your brother! You don’t ’call’ me; you show up! How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t know what’s going on in your life?"

I sniffled, trying to compose myself. "Luke, please. I promise we’ll catch up, but right now, I need to tell you something serious."

His tone shifted immediately. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I took a shaky breath and launched into the story, recounting every venomous word our father had spat over the phone. By the time I finished, my voice was trembling, and Lucian reached over to place a comforting hand on my shoulder.

There was silence on the other end before Luke’s voice erupted, filled with rage. "That bastard. That miserable excuse for a man. Who the hell does he think he is? I’m going over there right now, and I’m going to demand he explain himself!"

"I’m coming with you," I said quickly, my determination matching his.

"No, Teresa, you’re staying out of this."

"I’m not a child, Luke! If anyone deserves answers, it’s me."

There was a pause before Luke relented with a sigh. "Fine. Tomorrow morning. But don’t expect me to hold back."

********

The next morning, the air was thick with unspoken words as Lucian and I packed the car for the trip to my father’s mansion. Lucian held our babies—our sweet little twins, Ollie and Mai slept peacefully—while I struggled to keep my emotions in check.

"You’re too quiet," Lucian finally said, his voice cutting through the silence as we drove.

"I’m just... thinking," I replied, my eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

He reached over, his hand finding mine with unerring accuracy. "You don’t have to face this alone. I’ll be right beside you. Always."

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that held me in place. I squeezed his hand, offering a small, grateful smile.

When we arrived, Luke’s car pulled in right behind us. He stepped out, his tall frame exuding the protective energy that only an elder brother could have. I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck.

"Luke," I breathed, the relief of seeing him in person washing over me.

He hugged me back, his strong arms reassuring. "You okay, Tess?"

"No," I admitted, pulling back and handing Ollie over to him. "But I will be."

He gave me a knowing look, nodding. "We’ll catch up later. For now, let’s deal with this mess."

As if on cue, the grand double doors of the mansion creaked open, revealing Vanessa, my stepmother. She was dressed to the nines, her perfectly styled hair and sugarcoated smile radiating false warmth.

"Teresa, darling," she cooed, her arms opening as if she expected a hug. "What a surprise. And you brought the whole family. Come in, come in."

Her sweetness made my stomach churn, but I plastered on a polite smile and followed her inside. The grandeur of the house felt suffocating, every detail a reminder of my father’s control. Vanessa led us to the living room, gesturing for us to sit.

"Williams will be down shortly," she said, her voice syrupy. "He’s just finishing up some work."

Lucian’s hand found mine again as we waited, his steady presence keeping me grounded. My mind raced, filled with questions and anger.

When my father finally appeared, descending the grand staircase with deliberate steps, the air in the room seemed to shift. His presence was heavy, like the calm before a thunderstorm, each movement calculated to command attention. The faint clink of his shoes against the marble echoed, amplifying the tension that already pressed down on my chest.

I stood slowly, my entire shaky from anger but steady enough to hold me upright. His cold, piercing gaze met mine, sharp and unrelenting, as if daring me to falter. But I didn’t. Not this time.

As I stared at him, a storm brewed inside me—a surge of anger, betrayal, and resentment that I had kept buried for far too long. My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms, but I welcomed the sting. It reminded me of why I was here.

This wasn’t just about answers. It was about truth. It was about every lie he had ever fed me, every moment he had stolen from me with his manipulations. And as much as I hated the thought of being in this house, facing him now, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t leaving without the truth. Even if I had to peel it out of him layer by layer.

He reached the bottom step and stopped, his gaze unwavering, his expression unreadable. But I saw through the facade. Beneath that composed exterior was a man who thought he still had the upper hand.

He was wrong.

I was no longer the Teresa of old, and he was about to find out the hard way.