chapter 164
Olivia's POV:
The heavy oak door of my study closed with a decisive click as Owen entered, his silver-streaked hair disheveled, his expression a storm of frustration and indignation.
I'd sensed something was wrong before he even crossed the threshold.
"He refused," Owen said without preamble, his voice tight. "Alpha Lucas refused outright. Wouldn't even consider bringing the girl back to the family."
I set down my teacup with careful precision, the delicate porcelain making barely a sound against the saucer.
"Tell me exactly what he said," I requested, keeping my tone measured despite the frustration building in my chest.
Owen began to pace, his movements agitated, hands gesturing sharply as he recounted the conversation.
"He was cold, Olivia. Dismissive. When I explained the benefits of bringing Tori into the Sullivan Pack—the political alliance, the strengthening of ties between our families—he looked at me as if I'd suggested something obscene."
"Did he give reasons?"
"Reasons?" Owen's laugh was harsh. "He said the last thing Tori needs is to be 'caught in the middle of Sullivan family politics and power struggles.' As if we would harm our own blood!"
I released a slow breath, my emotions tangling into something complicated and bittersweet.
Part of me felt a flutter of warmth. Lucas truly cared for her. Protected her. Loved her in the fierce, uncompromising way an Alpha should love his Luna.
But another part of me, the part that had lost one granddaughter and only just discovered another, felt the sharp sting of loss. She was so close, yet still beyond my reach.
"He's not entirely wrong," I said quietly, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue.
"That girl has been through hell. And we did nothing. We didn't even know she existed."
"That's precisely why we need to bring her home now," Owen insisted, coming to stand beside me. "To make amends. To give her the protection and status she deserves as William's daughter."
I could feel his sincerity, his genuine desire to right past wrongs.
I was silent for a long moment, weighing options, consequences. Then I straightened my shoulders, decision crystallizing clarity.
"If Lucas won't listen to reason," I said quietly, "then perhaps I'm going to contact Tori myself."
"Not to manipulate her, not to pressure her. But she deserves the truth. She deserves the choice."
---
The next morning.
Light slanted through the tall windows of my study, casting long shadows across the Persian rug.
I sat at my desk, fingers hovering over my phone screen, Tori's number glowing like a beacon of hope and uncertainty.
I pressed dial before I could change my mind.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a prayer and a plea.
"Hello?"
Her voice washed over me like a balm.
"Tori, dear. It's Olivia Sullivan."
I heard her sharp intake of breath, the slight rustle as she straightened. Through the phone, I could almost picture her—those expressive eyes widening, that careful control settling over her features.
"Mrs. Sullivan," she said, and I could hear her trying to maintain composure. "This is a surprise."
"I hope not an unwelcome one." I kept my voice gentle, warm, trying to convey everything I couldn't yet say. "I've been thinking about you since our tea together. About how much I enjoyed our conversation."
"I was wondering," I continued carefully, each word chosen with precision, "if you might have time to meet with me again. Perhaps for lunch? "
The silence that followed felt weighted, significant. I held my breath, waiting.
Then her voice came, quiet but firm: "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. I'm very satisfied with my life as it is right now. I have no plans to change my current situation, and I don't think it would be appropriate for us to meet."
She had known. The words hit me like a physical blow.
My hand tightened on the phone, knuckles going white.
"Tori..." My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "Are you blaming me for not bringing you home sooner? That's my fault. I should have found you earlier. I should have—"
My throat closed up, tears burning behind my eyes.
"You don't have to acknowledge me as your grandmother," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush of desperation and grief. "I just... I just want to see you."
I drew a shaky breath, my voice breaking. "Can't you even grant me one meeting?"
The silence on the other end stretched, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the sobs that wanted to escape.
"Mrs. Sullivan..." Her voice was softer now, conflicted.
"Please," I whispered. "Just one meal."
Another long pause. Then, so quietly I almost missed it: "All right. One meeting."
Relief flooded through me so intensely I had to grip the edge of my desk to steady myself. "Thank you. Thank you, dear."
We arranged the details—tomorrow, noon, at the Moonhaven Grand Hotel restaurant.
After we hung up, I sat trembling in my chair, emotions churning through me in waves.
---
I arrived at the Moonhaven Grand Hotel early, my wolf pacing restlessly beneath my skin.
I stood near the entrance, my cane gripped tightly in one hand, watching every person who entered the lobby.
My heart leaped at every dark-haired young woman, only to settle back into anxious waiting when they passed by.
Then I saw her.
Tori stepped through the revolving doors, and the afternoon light caught in her hair, making it shimmer like moonlight on water.
"Tori!" I called out, unable to contain myself. My hand rose in an eager wave, and I found myself moving toward her faster than my old legs should allow, my cane tapping rapidly against the marble floor.
She turned at the sound of my voice, and for a moment, our eyes met.
I saw wariness there, but also something else—a flicker of the same longing I felt, quickly suppressed.