The Flagrant

The Flagrant
The months following the confrontation in the forest were like a silent winter inside the Vorn mansion. There were no screams, no new violent arguments, but the absence of warmth between Rhaek and Narelle was evident. The couple shared the same roof, sometimes the same table, but no longer the same bed.

Narelle, firm in her decision, slept alone. Rhaek, in turn, respected this distance with a wounded pride that prevented him from attempting any direct reconciliation. There were no touches, no kisses—only glances exchanged across meals and a routine their children could no longer ignore.

Luxor, now a grown man, husband and father, watched everything in silence. He was no longer the boy who sought answers in his parents’ gestures: he was the one giving the example, taking care of his own family, running part of the company, keeping a protective eye on his siblings. And precisely because he had matured, it was impossible not to see the abyss opening between Rhaek and Narelle.

On a rainy morning, Luxor walked into the dining room and found his father seated with the newspaper in front of him, but his gaze fixed on nothing. Narelle poured coffee for the younger children, her expression impassive, as if every gesture had been studied not to betray emotion.

Luxor watched the scene with a tight chest. He knew his mother was hurt, but he also saw in his father a rigidity that hid more pain than fury. There was a distance between them made not only of silence—it was made of pride.

After breakfast, while Rhaek went up to the office, Luxor approached his mother.

“Are you all right, Mother?”

Narelle forced a brief smile.

“I am, my son. I always will be.”

But Luxor didn’t believe her. He had learned over the years to read between the lines.

One afternoon, Narelle decided to go to the company without warning. It had been months since she had kept her distance, but something in her intuition drove her there.

As she crossed the main hall, she greeted secretaries and employees, who looked at her with surprise and even relief—as if they had been waiting for her return. She took the elevator to Rhaek’s floor and, upon opening the glass door of the meeting room, she froze.

Rhaek was seated at the table, leaning forward. In front of him, Amélia, the young assistant, laughed softly while the two of them drank coffee very close, almost like a couple sharing forbidden intimacy.

For na instant, Narelle didn’t move a muscle. She simply observed.

Rhaek noticed her presence and immediately drew back, rising from the chair as if nothing had happened.

“Narelle… I didn’t expect you here.”

Her gaze slid to Amélia, who flushed and lowered her head nervously. Narelle said nothing at that moment. She only turned on her heels and left, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway like blades.

Rhaek felt the blow. He tried to hide it, but inside something twisted. He didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, that he still cared about the way Narelle looked at him.

...

A few days later, during a board meeting, the numbers were laid out. Since Narelle had stepped away from administration, the company had suffered concerning drops. Stalled projects, dissatisfied suppliers, teams without direction.

One of the directors raised his voice:

“With all due respect, Alpha, but we need her back. Mrs. Narelle has always been the administrative mind of this house. Without her, the machine doesn’t work.”

Rhaek swallowed hard. He knew it was true. He couldn’t allow pride to destroy what they had built together over the years.

That night, he called Narelle to his office. She walked in with her back straight, her eyes cold.

“You wanted to see me?”

Rhaek drew a deep breath.

“I want you to return to the company. Not as my wife, but as the administrator you’ve always been. They need you.”

A heavy silence lingered between them. Finally, Narelle replied:

“I accept. But understand: I return for the good of the company, not to stand at your side.”

Rhaek only nodded. Deep down, part of him felt wounded. But another part— him felt wounded. But another part—hidden, proud—knew that it was necessary.

The following week, Narelle resumed her duties. Employees sighed in relief at her return. The company, little by little, regained its rhythm.

But not everyone was happy. Amélia, the young assistant, noticed her influence over Rhaek diminishing by the day. The Alpha no longer gave her the same attention. The space she had tried to occupy was once again Narelle’s.

One morning, as Amélia walked into the company break room to grab coffee, she nearly dropped her cup when she noticed Narelle leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

“Amélia.” Narelle’s voice was firm, sharp.

The assistant tried to disguise her nerves, but the tension was obvious.

“Yes, Mrs. Narelle?”

In a swift movement, Narelle pushed her against the wall, her hand gripping her arm firmly. Her silver eyes gleamed with threat.

“Listen well. This company has na owner. And the Alpha has a Luna. You are and will never be more than na employee. If you dare again to try to get close to him, I swear nothing will remain of you but fear.”

Amélia’s eyes widened, her body trembling. She didn’t dare answer. She only nodded, terrified.

Narelle released her, calmly adjusting her blazer.

“Good girl. Now go back to work.”

Amélia rushed out, pale.

The news reached Rhaek that same afternoon. Na indiscreet employee commented that Narelle had put Amélia in her place.

At first, Rhaek was irritated. But soon after, alone in his office, na involuntary smile formed.

She was still jealous.

That realization brought him a strange, almost childish pleasure. Amid the ice of the last months, that gesture was like a spark. Narelle could deny desire, she could push him away from her bed, but she could not hide that she still wanted him for herself.

Rhaek rested his elbows on the desk, thoughtful. For a long time he had believed he was losing his Luna. Now, he realized that despite all the distance, the bond still existed.

It wasn’t the end.

Meanwhile, Luxor watched everything from the outside. He saw his father more restrained, his mother stronger, and the company regaining its brilliance. He also saw his younger siblings growing up in na environment heavy with silences and tensions.

At night, when he returned home, Luxor kissed his wife, embraced his children, and silently thanked for learning from his parents’ mistakes. He loved Narelle and Rhaek, but he didn’t want to repeat their failures.

He looked at them and thought: there was still time for them to reconcile. The only question was whether pride would allow it.

...

Months had passed, and although the distance remained, something had begun to move between Rhaek and Narelle. It wasn’t forgiveness, nor reconciliation—not yet. But the simple fact that she had marked her territory, that she had faced Amélia with such fervor, rekindled in him a silent hope.

The game was not over.

And deep down, Narelle knew it too.