The Alpha Faked Depression to Win My Love Chapter 11

The Alpha Faked Depression to Win My Love Chapter 11

LYRA 

During my years in the United Kingdom, most of 

my life revolved around Rowan’s art account. 

I kept Wintervine alive. 

Before everything happened, I had often accepted 

illustration commissions. 

I had skill, even if I would never have Rowan’s gift. 

After five years, the account had gained many 

more followers. 

That spring, I decided to return to the United 

States. 

When I landed in Los Angeles, Mira was waiting 

with a bouquet of tulips. 

She was now one of the leading talent agents at 

an entertainment company. 

The moment we sat across from each other, tears 

filled her eyes. 

“Lyra, I never thought I would see you again.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you for everything you did.” 

Her voice broke. 

For half a minute, she could only cry. 

Then she told me that after Marcus died, her 

depression had disappeared as if someone had 

torn out its root. 

She no longer lived inside the past. 

She no longer grew more numb with every day she 

spent regretting it. 

I patted her shoulder the way I used to. 

She had finally gained some weight. 

That was good. 

Mira seemed to remember something. 

She reached into her bag and placed a bank card 

in front of me. 

“There is two hundred and ten thousand dollars in 

this account.” 

“It includes the one hundred and twenty thousand 

you gave me and everything I’ve saved from my 

salary.” 

“Please don’t refuse. You have to take it.” 

I did not touch the card. 

Mira pushed it closer anyway. 

Then she began telling me what had happened. 

over the past five years. 

After Kieran surrendered, Sabrina formally forgave 

him as Rowan’s bereaved mate. 

The Blackwood family hired the best attorneys 

they could find. 

They also presented his voluntary confession and 

his cooperation in helping the police recover all 

the evidence. 

With all of those factors, Kieran was sentenced to 

ten years in prison. 

After Sabrina watched the videos her father had 

left behind, the backlash from her unfinished mate 

bond struck again. 

Her mind broke soon afterward. 

She still lived in a psychiatric hospital. 

Only once a year, near the end of spring, did she 

leave to visit Rowan’s grave. 

I nodded. 

Their names felt familiar and strange at the same 

time. 

As if I had known them in another life. 

Some part of me no longer wanted to remember. 

Near the end of our conversation, I asked Mira 

about herself. 

“Did you date anyone during those five years?” 

The light in her eyes dimmed. 

She folded her hands together. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

She looked away. 

“Because the person I met when I was young was 

too unforgettable.” 

Late that night, wind moved softly outside my 

window. 

I opened Wintervine and posted one of the winter 

landscapes Rowan had left behind. 

Beneath it, I wrote: 

I only wish that in your next life, 

you will pass through it safely and peacefully, 

all the way to the end.