The Alpha's Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger. Chapter 278 278: The secret of the private study

Lyla

I wasted so much ti with Luna Vanessa that by the ti I went to where Nathan was supposed to et with the shooters, I was told he had returned to the Beta house.

Imdiately, I hurried to him. But when I entered Nathan's ho office, where an Oga had inford he was, a chill ran down my spine. Clarissa was there, lounging comfortably on the edge of his desk.

Her legs crossed delicately, her manicured fingers drumming against the wood. Her smile was smug—too smug—and the glimr in her eyes was unmistakable. It felt like I had walked into a scene I wasn't' ant to see.

Or maybe they were saying sothing about , and my presence stopped the conversation.

Nathan barely glanced up when I stepped inside. His attention was glued to his phone, fingers tapping across the screen steadily. He looked up briefly, then back down.

Instantly, I felt uncomfortable.

""Where have you been?"" he asked casually. ""You're' more than thirty minutes late.""

I couldn't help but look at Clarissa again, tilting her head. The smirk on her face deepened. My insides twisted with uncertainty as I noticed her self–satisfied smile, which seed to hide sothing—a secret, perhaps, or a victory I wasn't yet aware of.

I felt that she knew I had spoken with her mother, so I decided to tell the truth. Keeping my expression neutral, I faced Nathan.

"I stopped by to chat with Luna Vanessa," I replied quietly, eting his gaze as a small smile played on my lips.

He paused, lowering the phone for just a fraction of a second. Not before I noticed his eyes darting between and Clarissa.

""What about?""

My eyes shifted to Clarissa again. She was watching intently, like a cat playing with its prey. It was maddening. I turned back to Nathan, keeping my voice steady.

"She wanted to talk to you about the war with Ramsey," I began. "She wanted to beg you not to go ahead with it. To try to convince you that we could seek other solutions and hope you will reconsider. She's worried. She thinks it's' too risky."

Nathan's expression barely changed. The phone was still in his hand, though he wasn't typing on it as rapidly as before. The room felt suffocating. I considered stopping there, but sothing in —so need to stake a claim, to prove I wasn't afraid—pushed to continue.

"She also brought up the letter my father left for ."

That seed to catch his attention. Nathan straightened, eting and holding my gaze for the first ti I stepped inside his office. Clarissa's smirk faltered just a bit. The satisfaction in her eyes faded, replaced by sothing else—irritation, maybe.

"What letter?" Nathan's tone was cautious now.

I tried not to stutter. "The letter he left before he died. She said she knew I'd read it and was keeping its contents to myself."

Nathan then turned to Clarissa, whose expression had shifted to one of casual disinterest—too casual. I could see the effort behind it. He set the phone down slowly, deliberately, and glanced at Clarissa again.

"Leave," he said firmly.

Clarissa didn't move imdiately. Her eyes darted to , like she dared to celebrate the victory. She uncrossed her legs and stood gracefully, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not leaving. I am your mate, Nathan. If there's anyone who should leave, it should be her."

"Clarissa…" Nathan said softly. "We'll continue our conversation later. Just leave now."

"I don't think—"

"Leave," Nathan repeated, his voice had gone a notch higher and sounded colder too.

She shrunk back, but she didn't argue further. She swept past with a glare, making sure she bumped into , but I couldn't care less. I wasn't interested in her antics now. She closed the door, deliberately banging it shut.

Finally alone, Nathan leaned back against the desk, his gaze settling on with a focus that made my skin prickle.

"I thought you were going to lie to ," he said.

I huffed a humorless laugh. "There's no need to do that. I'm already bound to you, aren't I?"

The words felt bitter, a reminder of my current situation.

Sothing flashed across his face—sothing I couldn't' make out—but it was gone too quickly. Deciding to push my luck, I decided to question him more.

"The truth is, after I got the letter, I never had the chance to open it. On our supposed wedding day, when I packed and stayed at that hotel, I took the letter with and intended to open it. I left it on the dresser as a reminder, but after everything, I forgot to take it back with and never got the chance to return for it. I doubt it would still be there, anyway. Did you, by any chance, take the letter?"

His expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered with hesitation.

"One of the hotel cleaners brought it to after you left," he responded smoothly. Yes, I have the letter.

I sighed with relief. "Do you have it now?"

His lips quirked slightly as if amused. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of what seed like an envelope. Without a word, he tossed it toward . I caught it, my fingers curling around the rough edges.

"I've had it since that day. Since you never bothered to ask about it, I just assud you didn't want it," he admitted.

As I stared at the letter, the questions I had buried, the uncertainties, all ca rushing back with renewed intensity.

"Do you know where my father's' private study is?" I asked quietly, lifting my eyes to him again.

Nathan's' gaze hardened just a fraction, and he folded his arms across his chest as if guarding himself.

"Yes," he replied, he sounded careful.

I waited, watching his expression closely. "What's in there?"

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Nothing of great importance. Just a wall filled with Moonsingers—analyzed, dissected. Your father kept track of all of them. Their patterns, history… from Neriah to the last one."

The ntion of Moonsingers caught my attention.

""Where is this private study? Is it within the pack house?"" I asked

Sothing in my tone must have surprised Nathan. He raised an eyebrow but didn't' challenge . ""Curious all of a sudden?""

""You know sothing,"" I responded. Sothing about that study, about the letter, about my father: I want to know what it is. This is an opportunity to see why he went to great lengths researching it.""

Nathan studied for a few seconds until I wondered if he could see the desperation I was trying to hide—the desperate need to piece together everything I've found out so far, to understand the truth that felt just beyond my reach.

His expression softened, but only slightly. "I can."

For a mont, I saw a trace of sothing vulnerable in Nathan's' eyes, a glimpse of the man beneath the guarded exterior. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by the cool, composed Alpha I had grown accustod to.

I glanced down at the letter in my hand, the edges crinkled from Nathan's hold. My fingers trembled slightly as I unfolded it.

Lyla,If you're' reading this, then I am gone. I had hoped to have more ti to tell you what I failed to do for so long. I don't' expect forgiveness for my mistakes, but I hope you understand that I did what I thought was best—to protect you, to shield you from the truths that could break you.You are more than you know, Lyla. More than a Moonsinger, more than a daughter. You are a force, a legacy. The blood in your veins carries power beyond what any of us could imagine. Use it wisely.I wanted you to lead, to guide our people, not because you are my child, but because I know you are capable—more capable than Nathan, even if he does not see it—more capable than I was.If there is anything I regret, I did not give you the love you deserved. I let my fears control , and in turn, I failed you. Please, do not let my mistakes define you. Rise beyond them.

The last line blurred as my vision wavered, and the words sank into . My father had believed in —had seen sothing in I had never allowed myself to see. The truth was overwhelming, suffocating, and freeing all at once.

For the first ti, I felt my heart settle and almost all my animosity toward him fade.

NathaNathan'se cut through the silence. "Lyla""

I l"oked up, eting his gaze. He had a concerned look on his face. "Are y"ou alright?" he a"sked

"Just"take. to his study," I "hispered,

Nathan nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. Whatever awaited us beyond that room, beyond the secrets my father had left behind, I knew I coulcouldn'tae it alone. And perhaps, despite everything, Nathan understood that too.