Chapter 214 His Dirty little Secret

Chapter 214 His Dirty little Secret
"He had a mistress," Amelia forming a defeated smile, and putting the batter down on the table.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." I froze, my hand halfway to the cabinet I'd been about to open.

"It's fine. Honestly, it's kind of funny when you think about it, because how could a mate possibly fall in love with someone who has no soul connection to him?" Despite her attempt at lightness, I could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her smile brittle and forced.

I had that question for a while, but after I found out I’m a weredragon, I understood why my mates can’t be affected or forced to love me due to the mate bond.

A mate bond for weredragons is simply not what it is for werewolves.

For us, it’s more like a choice. We feel mate bonds just for acknowledgment that a certain person can be our partner. The rest is up to us to decide what we want to do with that knowledge. As for a mate bond between werewolves, I heard they feel a pull towards their mate, but then again, these powerful alphas can surely fight that feeling.

"Did you ever meet her?" I asked softly.

Amelia's hands stilled in the dough, which she'd been shaping into a flat disk. Flour dusted her forearms, and a strand of hair had fallen across her forehead.

"I planned to once," she said, her voice taking on a distant quality. "I wanted to see what was so special about her that would make a man betray his mate. But then I heard she was pregnant, and my mate forbade me from causing her any stress."

The pain in her voice was unmistakable, even as she tried to maintain a conversational tone. She resumed working the dough, her movements more controlled now.

"And you know what is funny?" she continued, a bitter laugh escaping her. "I was pregnant with Maxwell at the time. But apparently, he didn't give a damn about any stress he was causing me."

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. "That's not funny at all."

"Well, some men have a dark sense of humor," Amelia replied, covering the dough with plastic wrap and moving toward the refrigerator.

I followed her, gathering my courage to ask the question that had been brewing since she first mentioned her mate. "Your mate, how did he—" I paused when I couldn’t find appropriate words to converse with her over.

"Die?" Amelia finished for me, closing the refrigerator door with a snap. "It was sudden death! I heard They found his body in the mountains."

She seemed to care less, and I didn’t blame her for it. He wasn‘t genuine to her, so why would she waste her precious tears on a man like that?

"What happened to the mistress?" I asked, realizing this might mean Maxwell had a half-sibling I'd never heard about.

Amelia leaned against the counter, dusting flour from her hands. "I heard she moved on to spreading her legs for some other Alpha."

The crude language seemed out of character for the usually composed Amelia, revealing just how deeply the betrayal still stung.

"What about the child?" I pressed.

She could tell that I seemed to have been taking more interest than she was.

But I’m sure that didn’t bother her because she knew sometimes I was a bit too curious to hear about mates as they still fascinate me. The way these werewolves mates are able to feel a strong connection with each other yet they never stop cheating is indeed amusing.

"It was a baby girl. But she died."

My heart constricted. "How?"

"It was a cold night," Amelia said, her voice devoid of emotion. "That bitch forgot to cover her with a blanket. She woke up to find the baby dead in the bed."

The callousness with which she spoke about an infant's death disturbed me. There was no compassion, no sympathy—just cold indifference.

"Your mate worked for Lord and Lady Blackwood, right?" I asked, steering the conversation in a new direction.

Amelia nodded. "Yes, he did. Actually, the day he died was the same day he brought all his things back from the mansion. Working there was taking a toll on his health, and he desperately needed a break."

My mind raced with possibilities. If he'd worked for the Blackwoods, maybe there was something among his belongings that could reveal secrets about these Alpha Kings—information that might help me understand what was happening.

"Have you ever gone through his things?" I asked casually.

Amelia's shoulders slumped slightly. "Actually! I never have. It was too painful."

I saw an opportunity and took it. "Would you like to do it with me? I could provide moral support."

She hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. Then, with sudden determination, she straightened. "You know what? Fuck it! Let's do this."

Grabbing a set of keys from a drawer, she motioned for me to follow her to the basement.

The stairs creaked under our weight as we descended. Rain pounded against the small basement windows, casting shifting shadows across the concrete floor. In the corner sat a pile of boxes and suitcases, covered in thick dust and cobwebs.

"Oh shit! I forgot to clean down here," Amelia grumbled, surveying the neglected space.

A damp, musty smell permeated the air, and I could hear water dripping somewhere. In the far corner, I noticed a small hatch door.

"I'll get a duster," Amelia said. "Wait here, okay?"

As soon as she disappeared up the stairs, I found myself drawn to the pile of belongings. One small package, covered in thick dirt and dust, stood out among the others. The smell of mold and decay emanated from it, but something pulled me toward it.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and opened it.

Inside, beneath layers of old fabric and papers, was a photograph. The edges were worn and yellowed with age, but the image was still clear. It showed a man—presumably Amelia's mate—with his arm around a woman.

A woman with familiar features that had stared back at me from the mirror my entire life.

I stumbled backward, my heart racing as recognition slammed into me.

The mistress—the woman who had been pregnant with Amelia's mate's child—was my mother.