THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

**Celeste's POV**
The council chamber doors slammed behind me with a sound like thunder. My hands shook with rage as I stormed down the hallway, my heels clicking against the stone floor like gunshots. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything else.
She was still here. That pathetic omega was still walking the halls of my school, breathing my air, existing in my world.
I'd had her. The perfect trap. Witnesses ready to testify. Evidence that should have sealed her fate. Everything should have worked. Everything should have ended with Evangeline Cross dragged away in shame, never to be seen again.
But Ronan had ruined it all.
My chest burned with a pain so sharp it felt like someone had driven a knife between my ribs. The boy I loved, the boy who was supposed to be mine, had chosen to defend her. Had stood there in front of the entire council and made me look like a fool.
Students whispered as I passed them in the hallway. I could feel their stares burning into my back, hear the hushed conversations that stopped when I got too close. They'd all heard what happened. How I'd been humiliated. How Ronan had publicly chosen her over me.
The drive home felt endless. Every red light, every slow car in front of me made my blood boil hotter. By the time I pulled into our circular driveway, my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel.
The Hartwell mansion loomed before me, all glass and marble and cold perfection. Usually, seeing it made me feel proud. Today, it just looked empty.
I slammed the car door harder than necessary and stalked toward the front entrance. The sound echoed off the walls of our courtyard like a gunshot.
"Celeste."
My father's voice stopped me cold. He stood in the doorway of his study, still wearing his formal council robes. His face was a mask of controlled fury that made my stomach drop.
"Father," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was just..."
"In here. Now."
His study was exactly like him - cold, expensive, and designed to make people feel small. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, broken only by diplomas and awards that proved his importance. His massive desk dominated the room, carved from a single piece of mahogany that probably cost more than most families made in a year.
Family portraits lined the walls, generations of Hartwells staring down with cold, judging eyes. I felt their disapproval pressing down on me like a weight.
I perched on the edge of the chair across from his desk, my back straight and my hands folded. The same position I'd learned as a child when facing his disapproval.
"What exactly was that performance today?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Performance?" I tried to sound confused. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me, Celeste." He sat behind his desk with deliberate slowness. "That spectacle in the council chamber. Those accusations. That complete breakdown of composure."
"I was trying to protect the school," I said, lifting my chin. "That girl is dangerous. I could sense it."
"Could you?" His gray eyes were ice-cold. "Because from where I sat, it looked like a jealous child throwing a tantrum."
The words hit me like a slap. "I am not jealous of that nobody."
"Aren't you?" He leaned forward, his gaze pinning me in place. "Because your behavior suggests otherwise. Making wild accusations with no proof. Embarrassing yourself and this family in front of the entire council."
"She's hiding something," I insisted. "I know she is."
"Even if that were true, your methods were completely inappropriate." His voice cut through my protests like a blade. "You conducted yourself like a petty bully, not like the future Luna of this pack."
"But Ronan..."
"Ronan Nightbane acted exactly as an Alpha should," my father interrupted. "He defended justice and protected the innocent. Which makes your behavior look even worse by comparison."
The shame burned in my throat like acid. "You don't understand. You didn't see how he looked at her."
"How he looked at her?" My father's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you telling me that pathetic display was based on romantic jealousy?"
I couldn't meet his eyes. "It wasn't... I was just..."
"You were just what, Celeste?" He stood up, his presence filling the room. "Just so insecure that you'd attack an innocent girl because you imagined some threat?"
"She's not innocent," I said desperately. "There's something wrong with her. Something unnatural."
"Based on what evidence? Your feelings? Your suspicions?" He walked around the desk to stand in front of me. "You accused a student of forbidden magic with nothing but gossip and lies to support you."
"The other students saw..."
"Your friends saw exactly what you told them to see," he said coldly. "Don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise."
My breath caught in my throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Because my daughter would never orchestrate a campaign of lies and manipulation. My daughter would never be so weak as to attack someone she perceived as a threat."
Each word was a hammer blow to my pride. I felt tears starting to burn behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he was already disappointed in me.
"I was protecting our family's interests," I whispered.
"By humiliating us? By making us look vindictive and petty?" He turned away from me, staring out the window at our perfectly manicured gardens. I could see wilted roses in the flowerbeds, their petals brown and dying. "I am deeply ashamed of you, Celeste."
The words shattered something inside me. For a moment, I remembered being seven years old, winning my first youth competition. How he'd lifted me up and called me his "perfect little Luna." How proud his voice had been when he told everyone I was destined for greatness.
Now he couldn't even look at me.
My father's approval had been the foundation of my entire world. Without it, I felt like I was floating in empty space with nothing to hold onto.
"Daddy, please," I said, my voice breaking. "I can fix this."
"Can you? Because what you did today will follow you for the rest of your life. The council members will remember. They'll question your judgment, your character, your fitness to be Luna."
"Then what do I do?" The question came out as a sob.
"You learn to control yourself. You learn that a true Luna rises above petty jealousies and personal vendettas. You prove that you're worthy of the position you were born to hold."
The study door opened behind us. "What's all this shouting about?"
I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway, elegant and poised as always. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect chignon, and she wore a cream-colored dress that probably cost more than most people's cars.
"Mother," I said, relief flooding through me.
"Jonathan," she said to my father, her voice cool. "What's wrong with Celeste? She looks upset."
"Your daughter," my father said without turning around, "disgraced our family today at the council meeting."
My mother's eyes flashed. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."
"Is there?" My father finally turned back to face us. "Because I'd love to hear it."
My mother moved to stand behind my chair, her hands resting protectively on my shoulders. "Celeste is a strong young woman with good instincts. If she felt something was wrong with that Cross girl, then perhaps we should listen to her."
"Her instincts told her to make false accusations and embarrass herself publicly," my father said coldly.
"False accusations?" My mother's voice rose. "Jonathan, our daughter has never lied to us before. If she says something is wrong with that girl..."
"Then she should have come to us privately instead of creating a spectacle," he interrupted. "Instead of making us all look like fools."
"She's eighteen years old," my mother said, her voice fierce with protective anger. "She's still learning. Making mistakes is part of growing up."
"Some mistakes have consequences, Eleanor." My father's voice was final. "And this is one of them."
My mother's hands tightened on my shoulders. "What kind of consequences?"
"Celeste will write formal apologies to the council members. She will stay away from Evangeline Cross completely. And she will spend the next month reflecting on what it truly means to be a leader." His voice turned ice-cold. "Because if she loses Ronan Nightbane through her own foolishness, she loses everything. The engagement. Her future position. Her place in this family."
The threat hung in the air like a blade. I felt my mother stiffen behind me.
"A month?" My mother's voice was sharp. "Jonathan, that's excessive for a simple misunderstanding."
"It wasn't a misunderstanding," my father said. "It was a calculated attack on an innocent student. And it stops now."
I felt my mother's anger radiating through her touch. She might be disappointed in me, but she would always protect me. Always take my side when my father was being unreasonable.
"Come along, sweetheart," she said to me. "You look exhausted. Let's get you something to eat."
My father watched us leave, his face carved from stone. "Remember what I said, Celeste. This behavior ends now."
I nodded without looking back.
My mother led me to the kitchen, chattering about how difficult council politics could be and how my father sometimes forgot that young people weren't perfect. Her words washed over me like warm water, soothing the raw wounds my father had left behind.
But even as she fussed over me, making my favorite tea and cutting fresh fruit, part of my mind was elsewhere.
I sat at the kitchen island, sipping my tea and letting my mother's gentle words wash over me. I nodded in all the right places and made appropriate sounds of agreement.
But inside, my mind was elsewhere. Spinning. Calculating.
My father thought I would give up. That a lecture and some council scolding would be enough to tame me. He was wrong.
I wasn't going to fight fair next time.
No more accusations. No more public hearings. No more opportunities for Ronan to swoop in like some self-righteous hero and steal the moment.
This time, no one would see it coming.
My eyes drifted toward the sleek black cabinet in the far corner of the kitchen. My father kept his "restricted compounds" there.... potent magical substances under lock and spell. He thought the cabinet was foolproof.
He was wrong about that too.
I'd picked the lock last year, just for fun. I remembered exactly where he kept the vial. A soft blue liquid in a crystal stopper bottle. One drop caused confusion. Two weakened the body. Three, well, no one had ever taken three and lived.
Evangeline didn't need to die. Not yet.
She just needed to suffer. To fall apart in front of everyone. To become unreliable. Erratic. Dangerous in a way no one could defend.
Then, and only then, would I strike the final blow.
I smiled faintly, swirling my tea.
"Don't worry, Mother," I said sweetly, looking up at her. "Everything's going to be fine."
She smiled, relieved.
And I sipped my tea, already counting down the hours until Monday's lunch period.