Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Elara’s POV

My skull was splitting open.

That was my first conscious thought. The second was that my mouth tasted like something had crawled inside it and died.

I groaned and pressed my face deeper into the pillow. Sunlight stabbed through my eyelids like tiny daggers. Every muscle in my body ached—my ribs, my wrists, the bruise on my hip where Michael had shoved me against the wall.

Michael. The banquet hall. Isolde’s venomous smile. Kaelen’s arms around me in the dark carriage.

Oh no.

Oh no.

My eyes flew open. I was in my own bed. My own tiny bedroom with the stick-figure drawings on the wall and the cracked ceiling I’d been meaning to patch for a while. Someone had changed me out of that ruined ice-blue gown and into my soft cotton nightdress.

“Mommy!”

A small, warm body launched itself onto the bed. Valerius landed on my stomach with all the grace of a cannonball, and I barely swallowed the groan that rose in my throat.

“Careful, sweetheart.” I pulled him close, burying my nose in his curls. He smelled like strawberry soap and sleep. “Good morning.”

“Mommy, you came home so late.” His dark golden eyes were wide with concern. “A giant brought you.”

My heart stopped. “A... giant?”

“A really big man. Taller than the door.” Valerius held his arms as wide as they could stretch. “But I protected you, Mommy. I stood right in front of you and I said ‘who are you’ and he didn’t hurt you.”

Kaelen. Kaelen had been here. In this apartment. In this bedroom.

The blood drained from my face.

“That was very brave of you, baby.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “What else happened?”

“Auntie Brenna made him leave. Then she changed your dress because it was all ripped.” He wrinkled his nose. “You smelled funny. Like the grape juice Auntie Brenna hides in the cabinet.”

“That’s... yes. Mommy made a mistake last night.”

“It’s okay, Mommy.” He patted my cheek with his sticky little hand. “Me and Auntie Brenna had cheese baked noodles for dinner. It was so good.”

The bedroom door swung open. Brenna stood in the frame with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised to her hairline. She wore her morning apron, a wooden spoon in her fist like a weapon.

“Valerius, sweetheart,” she said in a voice that was far too pleasant, “why don’t you go finish your porridge? Mommy and Auntie Brenna need to have a grown-up talk.”

He looked between us, clearly sensing danger. Smart boy. But he kissed my forehead and scrambled off the bed, dragging his stuffed wolf behind him.

The door clicked shut.

Brenna waited for a moment.

“Ela.” She pointed the wooden spoon at me. “Start talking. Now.”

“I—”

“Because what I know is that you went to a palace banquet looking like a goddess, and came home late at night unconscious in the arms of a man the size of a wardrobe who introduced himself as your sovereign.” She stepped closer. “What I don’t know is everything in between. And you are going to tell me every single detail.”

I sat up slowly, pressing my palms against my throbbing temples. “Isolde was there.”

Brenna’s expression shifted. The spoon lowered an inch. “What?”

“She saw me. She told the entire banquet hall that I was—” I swallowed. “She implied Valerius was Prince Gareth’s son. Loudly. In front of everyone.”

“That lying—”

“And then a man named Michael cornered me in the corridor. He was drunk. He grabbed me. Tore my gown.” The words came out flat. Detached. Like I was reciting a report. “Kaelen— His Majesty found me before it went further.”

Brenna sat on the edge of the bed. The spoon clattered to the floor. “Ela. Are you hurt?”

“Bruised. Not broken.”

Her hand found mine. Squeezed hard. “And the sovereign? Why was he the one to bring you home?”

I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Because afterward, in the carriage... we...”

Silence.

“You didn’t.”

“I was drunk, Brenna. And scared. And he was there and he smelled like—” I pressed my hands over my face. “It’s my second day working at the palace and I slept with my employer. My sovereign.”

“Moon Goddess have mercy.”

“I know.”

“Ela, this man is the Alpha Emperor.”

“I know.”

She exhaled hard through her nose. Then, because she was Brenna, she squared her shoulders. “Alright. Did he force you?”

“No.” That much I was certain of. “No, it was... I wanted it. That’s the worst part.”

She studied me for a long moment. Then she picked up her spoon and stood. “Eat some porridge. Drink water. Get dressed.” A pause. “And for the love of the Moon Goddess, Ela, do not sleep with him again.”

The walk to the palace felt like a march to the gallows.

Every step, I rehearsed disaster. Whispers behind gloved hands. Sidelong glances. Someone would have seen me leave the banquet in Kaelen’s arms. Someone always saw.

But when I entered through the servants’ gate and crossed the lower corridor toward the archives, the palace was... quiet. Ordinary. Maids carried linens. A steward reviewed a ledger near the kitchens. No one stared. No one whispered.

I reached my workstation and froze.

On my desk sat a cup of steaming herbal tea. Beside it, a small plate of honey pastries. And tucked beneath the saucer, a folded note in neat handwriting:

“You looked like you needed a good morning. The tea helps with headaches. —C”

Claire.

Something tight in my chest loosened just a fraction. I pressed the note between my fingers and sat down, wrapping both hands around the warm cup.

Maybe today would be survivable after all.

At nine o’clock sharp, his office door opened.

Kaelen stepped out wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray court uniform. Every button fastened. Every line precise. His black hair was combed back from his face, and his dark gold eyes swept the archive room with the detached authority of a man reviewing his territory.

Those eyes landed on me.

Nothing. Not a flicker.

“Miss Elara.” His voice was clipped. Professional. “I need the Morrison Duke’s alliance covenant reviewed and annotated by noon. Additionally, please reschedule my two o’clock session with the Privy Council to accommodate an extended briefing.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He turned back to his office without another word. The door closed with a soft click.

I stared at that closed door. My pulse was hammering so loud I was certain the whole archive could hear it.

Miss Elara. As if last night hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t carried me to his carriage, hadn’t touched me until I shattered, hadn’t brought me home and met my son.

Fine. If that was how we were doing this, fine.

I pulled the Morrison covenant from the shelf and got to work.

The hours crawled. I annotated. Filed. Cross-referenced several separate trade provisions. Answered a few inquiries from junior clerks. Rescheduled the Privy Council session and confirmed it through the appropriate channels.

All while pretending my skin didn’t prickle every time his office door opened.

He emerged twice. Both times for documents. Both times with the same glacial professionalism. Miss Elara, the border report. Miss Elara, the treasury summary.

I handed them over without meeting his eyes. Our fingers never touched.

By late afternoon, the other clerks began filtering out. The archive emptied slowly—first the junior staff, then the senior scribes, until the vast room held only the scratch of my quill and the distant echo of boots in the corridor.

Five o’clock.

I was alone.

The office door opened one final time.

Kaelen stood in the doorway. But something had shifted. The rigid set of his shoulders had loosened. His collar was unfastened by a single button. And when he spoke, his voice was different. Lower. Stripped of ceremony.

“Elara.”

Not Miss Elara. Just my name.

My quill stopped moving.

“Could I have a word? In my office. Privately.”

I set the quill down and stood. My legs felt unsteady as I followed him inside.

His office was dim. The curtains half-drawn. He didn’t sit behind his desk. Instead, he leaned against the edge, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

I spoke first. If I didn’t, I might lose my nerve.

“Your Majesty, I owe you an apology. My behavior at the banquet was inappropriate, and I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I lost my composure in the great hall. In front of your court. And what Isolde said about my son—” My throat tightened. “Valerius is not Prince Gareth’s child. I need you to know that. Whatever she claimed, it’s a lie.”

Something moved behind his eyes. Quick. Unreadable.

“I never assumed otherwise.”

“The court might. People talk, and I can’t afford—”

“Elara.” He uncrossed his arms. “I said I believe you.”

The quiet certainty in his voice stole whatever argument I had left. I stood there, stripped bare by three simple words.

“I also want to thank you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “For stopping Michael. For bringing me home safely. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

The silence between us thickened. Heavy. Charged. Like the air before a storm.

I needed to leave. Right now. Before this became something I couldn’t undo.

“If that’s all, Your Majesty, I should return to my desk.”

As I turned to escape back to the safety of my desk, Kaelen’s hand suddenly shot out and clasped my wrist. A jolt of electricity from his warm, strong fingers spread up my arm, making me gasp softly.