The Alpha’s desire

Alone

Ezra knocked softly before entering.

The moment he stepped inside his grandmother’s room, the weight on his chest eased. Warm candlelight glowed across the walls, and the scent of lavender drifted through the air. It was the only place in the mansion that felt safe.

“There you are, my darling boy,” Madam Evelyn said gently from her bed. Though age had weakened her body, kindness still shone brightly in her eyes. “Come here.”

Ezra placed the tray of medicine on the bedside table and forced a smile. “Your medicine, Grandmother.”

She studied him for only a second before sighing. “And your pain, hidden behind that smile.”

His gaze dropped. “It is nothing.”

“It is never nothing when it hurts you.”

Those words broke the fragile control he had held all evening. Tears gathered in Ezra’s eyes despite how hard he fought them.

“They hate me,” he whispered. “No matter what I do, it is wrong. If I speak, I am disrespectful. If I stay silent, I am useless. If I breathe, I am a burden.”

Madam Evelyn opened her arms. “Come here.”

Ezra knelt beside her bed, resting his head against her lap as she stroked his hair the way she had since he was a child.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” she said firmly. “You were born gentle in a family that worships cruelty. That is their failure, not yours.”

“But why was I born here?” Ezra’s voice shook. “Why to them?”

“Because even cold houses need light,” she murmured. “Though many are too blind to see it.”

He let himself cry quietly while she comforted him, her touch steady and warm. In that room, he was not a mistake. He was simply Ezra.

Weeks later, the mansion felt colder than ever.

Madam Evelyn’s funeral ended beneath gray skies and dry condolences. Ezra stood alone while his family spoke more about inheritance than grief.

That same evening, her room was cleared.

The blankets were stripped. Her books boxed away. Her perfume vanished from the air.

When Ezra tried to keep one framed photograph, Damian snatched it from his hands.

“You have no claim to anything she owned,” his brother said.

“She loved me,” Ezra replied, voice trembling.

Damian’s smile was cruel. “And now she’s dead.”

Their mother turned away as if bored. Their father signed papers without looking up.

“Stop causing scenes,” he said coldly. “You should be grateful we still allow you to stay.”

Ezra looked around the room where no one defended him.

For the first time, he understood the truth.

With his grandmother gone, he was no longer family.

He was only something waiting to be used.