Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 289: The Stain

Chapter 289: The Stain

Nova’s POV

I stood at the door, frozen. My fingers grazed the handle, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn it.

She was still out there. I could feel her presence like a ghost tapping on the edges of my memories—unwelcome and haunting. My chest felt too small for my lungs. The air was tight, sharp like glass. Eldur stood silently behind me, close enough that I could feel the quiet heat radiating off his body.

"She’s not worth this pain," he said gently. "You don’t owe her anything."

"I know," I murmured, barely hearing myself. "But... I need to see her face. I need to know if she’s even real."

He didn’t argue. His hand found mine, rough yet warm, and gave the softest squeeze. I could feel the power behind it—barely restrained. Eldur was a storm disguised as a man, and yet right now, he was my stillness.

I finally opened the door.

And there she was.

Emily Beck. My mother. The woman who chose flashing cameras over bedtime stories, red carpets over scraped knees and dance recitals.

She stepped through the doorway like a ghost from a past life—wearing a sharp black coat that hugged her frame like it had been stitched just for this moment. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, but they couldn’t hide the truth in her eyes. Eyes that matched mine too well. The kind I used to stare into in the mirror, wondering why they looked like someone who was never there to look back.

Her makeup was flawless, untouched by time or travel, but her lips trembled as she forced a smile. It wavered at the corners, faltering before it could reach the sadness in her gaze.

"Nova..." she breathed, her voice cracking like porcelain. "My baby..."

She reached for me, slow and tentative, like she expected me to fall into her arms with open forgiveness.

But I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch. Eldur’s fingers curled tighter around mine, his silent strength anchoring me in place.

She took my silence as permission and stepped fully into the room, her heels clicking against the floor like the ticking of a clock we couldn’t turn back.

"I know I don’t deserve to be here," she said, voice soft and rehearsed, each word carefully chosen like lines from a script. "But I had to see you. I’ve imagined this day over and over. I had to know if you were okay."

Still, I said nothing. I let the weight of her words hang in the air. Eldur moved with me, shadowing my steps, never letting go.

She glanced at him—just a flick of her eyes—but didn’t ask who he was. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t want to risk the answer.

Her hand rose to her chest like she was preparing to deliver a speech to a crowd. "Nova, I never stopped thinking about you. Not for a single day. Every time the cameras flashed, I wondered where you were. If you were safe. If you still hated me."

"I did," I said quietly.

And for the first time, her polished veneer cracked.

Her lips quivered, the shine of her lipstick catching the light. "I didn’t know how to come back. I was ashamed. I was scared. I made choices I can’t take back, Nova... but I never stopped loving you. I swear, I want to make it right. If you’ll let me."

I wanted to believe her. God, I did. I wanted to collapse into her and pretend the years hadn’t hollowed me out.

And for the briefest moment—I almost did.

Until I spoke of my father.

"He’s gone," I said, voice low and shaking. "He became a ghost after you left. Drowned himself in liquor and memories. When I was twelve, he drank himself past reason and walked into traffic. That was it. No goodbye. Just... gone."

She blinked, her expression barely shifting. "He died?"

There it was—shock that sounded real, but didn’t look it. Her eyes stayed dry. Her lips didn’t even twitch. No falter in her voice. Just smooth, practiced sympathy.

"You didn’t know?" I asked, my pulse pounding in my throat.

"I... I lost touch with everyone," she said too quickly, too cleanly. "No one would take my calls after I left."

"They stopped calling because you left," I said, flat as stone.

She turned her face away.

And then, as if on cue, her tone shifted.

"But darling, we need to be careful moving forward." Her voice suddenly had a different edge—sharper, rehearsed. "You can’t tell anyone that you’re my daughter. Not yet. Not while I’m in contract negotiations for three new roles. One scandal and everything could fall apart."

I blinked. "What?"

Emily adjusted her sunglasses, avoiding my eyes. "It’s not about you, sweetheart. It’s just... the media. They wouldn’t understand. A surprise daughter? After everything I’ve built?"

I felt the pieces of her story crumble in real time.

"So... that’s it?" I said, my voice a whisper. "You came here to... to shut me up? To keep your perfect little image intact?"

"Nova," she said, her tone growing annoyed, "Don’t be dramatic. I came here because I care about you. But you have to understand, I can’t have a scandal like this ruin my life."

"Your life?" I laughed bitterly. "You walked out on me. You never called. You let me think I wasn’t enough to keep. You weren’t missing me. You were protecting your brand."

"I was missing you," she snapped. "But I also have responsibilities. You don’t understand how this industry works."

"No," I said, voice shaking. "You’re right. I don’t understand how a mother looks her daughter in the face and asks her to stay a secret."

"I’m not trying to hurt you," she sighed. "But you’re... a complication. A stain. One I can’t afford right now."

A complication. A stain.

That’s what she thought of me.

Eldur’s growl was low and dangerous, breaking the tense silence like a blade slicing through ice. "You don’t get to talk to her like that."

My mother turned to him, scoffing as though just realizing he existed. "And who are you? Her bodyguard? Her little boyfriend? You look like a failed fantasy novel."

"Careful," Eldur said, his silver eyes glowing faintly. "You have no idea who you’re talking to."

"Eldur," I murmured, stepping between them. "She’s not worth it."

"She called you a stain," he said, his jaw tight. "Don’t ask me to stay quiet about that."

I turned to face her, my pulse pounding like war drums in my chest. The kind of beat that demanded blood.

"Get out," I said.

She blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." My voice was low, steady—calm in the way a storm is calm before it tears the world apart. "Get out of my apartment."

She scoffed like I’d just told her the punchline to a bad joke. "You can’t be serious. You’d really throw me out? After everything I—"

"After everything you did," I snapped, cutting her off before she could twist the narrative any further. "You haven’t done a single thing for me. You don’t get to disappear and then waltz back in like a savior. You didn’t come here to make amends—you came to spin your story before I could tell mine."

Her mouth opened again, but I wasn’t giving her the space to perform.

"Go back to your red carpets," I said, venom laced behind every word. "Go back to your cameras, your rehearsed tears, your scripted apologies. Go play the saint for people who don’t know better. But don’t come near me again."

That’s when her eyes shifted—gone was the trembling mother, and in her place was the cold calculation of someone used to holding power.

"If you say a word about this—about us—to anyone," she said, her voice dipped in threat, "I swear to God, Nova, I’ll ruin you. I’ll make your life a living hell."

That was when Eldur moved.

With a smooth, deliberate step, he positioned himself between us. The air around him changed—darker, heavier—like the calm before lightning strikes.

"Try it," he growled, voice like smoke over embers. "Go ahead. Try hurting her. I won’t be polite next time."

She faltered. Her posture wavered, her breath caught—but only for a second. She recovered just enough to toss her hair and retreat with a hissed, "You’ll regret this."

The door slammed shut behind her like the final word in a conversation I never wanted to start.

For a moment, I stood still.

The silence was sharp, deafening.

Then it broke—inside me.

My knees gave way, and I collapsed to the floor. The sobs tore out of me, sudden and violent, like a dam breaking after years of pressure. Years of silence. Of waiting. Of wishing.

Eldur was there in an instant, dropping beside me, his arms wrapping around me like armor. I buried my face into his chest, clutching his jacket like it was the only real thing in the world.

"She never loved me," I choked, each word slicing its way out of my throat.

His voice was quiet, but firm. Unshakeable.

"I do," he said. "And I always will."

We stayed like that—on the cold floor, in the middle of the wreckage she left behind—holding onto each other through the storm.

And because of my wonderful boyfriend—

...I didn’t feel abandoned.

I didn’t feel forgotten.

I didn’t feel alone.