Chapter 213 Lies
Chapter 213 Lies
Kristen's POV
The morning sun streams through the windows, casting an uneasy glow as I received a letter. Calhoun, my husband and Alpha of the Greyhound pack, didn't show up last night after leaving without telling me of his whereabouts.
The words on the letter are like a chilling wind;
"I won't be coming home for two weeks, something came up."
My eyes narrows at the note for some seconds.
"Bullshit!" I yell, throwing the letter aside, startling the servants nearby.
"This isn't Calhoun's handwriting. And he would never write to me about leaving because something came up. He always sees me first."
I glare from one servant to the other, and they tremble, unaccustomed to seeing their Luna so furious.
"Did he tell anyone he was leaving yesterday?" I demand.
"No," they chorus, but the younger servant seems skeptical.
"Yes?" I stand in front of her with a questioning brow.
"I was out when I saw him heading to Nana Joyce's," the servant blurts out and avoid my eyes.
And hearing this makes me stiffen.
Nana Joyce, Calhoun's grandmother, has always been a source of tension. She is hateful towards me and aims to separate us.
I can never forget how she freed my own mother from prison, brought her into our home and
demanded Calhoun reconcile with her, and then kick
me out.
My own mother who is a threat to me, Aiden and my unborn child.
Why would Calhoun ever go there? I thought he was avoiding her in the meantime?
The last conversation I had with Calhoun involves his struggle to forgive his grandmother for what she has done. Now he went to see her?
Is Calhoun contemplating taking back my mother?
My mind is racing with so many thoughts from Calhoun's sudden leave, the letter, and me finding out that the last place he was seen was at Nana Joyce's.
Meanwhile Sapphire is still here, being so bitter towards me despite being in my home and mourning her late husband, Bruce.
"Why would he go to his grandmother, especially now?" My voice is mixed with frustration as I let this
out.
While servants exchange uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond to this.
"Did he seem troubled, upset, or angry when he left?" I ask again.
"No, Luna. He seemed... normal," One servant replies.
Normal. A word that clashes with the abnormality of this situation.
My mind churns with several thoughts again, except none of which offers a clear explanation.
"I need to talk to Nana Joyce." I say more to myself than the servants.
Upon reaching Nana Joyce's villa, I take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation with the woman who I do not get along with, although she's the only parental figure in my husband's life.
When the servants offer me their greeting and creak the doors open, there I see Nana Joyce, her eyes
shadowed with suspicion.
"What brings you here, Kristen?" She inquires with a
stern face without even bothering to offer me a seat. Not like I even care.
Ensuring my frustration is evident, and not bothering
to mine my words, I ask, "Where is my husband?
But Nana Joyce feigns. innocence. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"He left a letter, claiming he won't be home for two
weeks because something came up. Did he tell you that?" I make sure I hold I gaze without breaking it
off.
While Nana Joyce's gaze falters for a moment, but she quickly recovers.
"Calhoun did visit me, but he didn't say why he was leaving. Perhaps something important came up." Nana Joyce responds after clearing her throat.
But I don't buy any of this.
Instead we get involved in a deep stare exchange,
with me trying to detect that she has something up to
her sleeves.
"You and I both know there's more to this. What did
he say?" I continue, showing her I am more smart than she can ever predict.
At this, Nana Joyce sighs, her demeanor shifting.
"He's dealing with family matters, Kristen. Matters that don't concern you," She says, with her voice sounding like I am nothing to my husband.
And with my frustration boiling over, I snap back.
"Everything in Calhoun's life concerns me. We are husband and wife. We are mates, bound by more than just love."
"You might be his mate, but there are aspects of his life you don't understand. This is one of them." Nana Joyce's eyes turns cold as she lets this out.
"If this concerns our family, then it concerns me. Calhoun and I face everything together." And Because my patience is wearing thin, I clench my fists. "Sometimes, I, facing everything together isn't the best course of action. Some burdens are meant to be
borne alone," she explains, trying to seem less
hateful.
There's so much meaning to the words of my husband's grandmother, that I am left with no choice but to pause for some seconds so my brain can fully comprehend everything, since there seems to be a lot that I am missing out on.
"I won't let secrets tear us apart. I need to know where Calhoun is and what he's dealing with," I say
after a short pause of silence.
Nana Joyce, her gaze unwavering, finally reveals this,
"He went to seek answers, Kristen. Answers that have haunted our family for generations. But be warned, some truths are better left undiscovered."
My heart jumps in my chest from this. Some truths are better left undiscovered?
Is that why Calhoun just took off like that without
bothering to give me a heads up? And had someone write that letter instead?
"Yesterday, he was hellbent on finding Bruce's
murderer, how can he just leave like that?"
Nana Joyce gets stern as I press for answers, demanding to know where Calhoun went and why he left that letter.
"You won't understand, Kristen. Some paths are better left untraveled," Nana Joyce says.
Torn between frustration and a yearning for the truth, I clench my jaw. The old woman's words ringing in my head as she ushers me toward the door, a silent command to leave. Yeah, right. She'll always hate me.
Reluctantly, I turn away since I am an unwelcome
visitor.
Stepping outside, the cool breeze does little to soothe the turmoil within me.
The front door creaks closed behind me, leaving me alone on the porch. A restless energy spurs me to glance back, my eyes get guided to a table at the far
end.
Amidst a sea of plain sheets and half-written letters lies Calhoun's ring.
My eyes widen, shock and realization sweeping over
me as I approach the scattered sheets. The letters, incomplete and abandoned, with the same handwriting from the one I received this morning.
I sift through the papers, my hands tracing the outlines of the unfinished words. And a deep ache settles in my chest.
Calhoun didn't write the letter, he had someone else
to do it.
At the far end of the table, Calhoun's ring glistens, a symbol of our bond and commitment.
The door swings open, and this time, it's Nana Joyce
who appears haunted as if she's being chased by a ghost. The sight of me with the half-written letters brings a
gasp to Nana Joyce's lips as she realizes I've stumbled upon more than intended.
"Kristen, wait!" She yells. But it's too late. My eyes fixate on the ring, my mind
racing with questions and fears. This peels back a
layer of the lies, leaving me standing on a truth I might not be ready to face.
"You weren't meant to see this, Kristen," Nana Joyce
has guilt taking over her face.
The air thickens with unsaid words as I, clutching Calhoun's ring, face Nana Joyce.