[ADRIAN'S POV]
"Tell me about your father," Dr. Chen said, her pen poised over her notepad.
I'd been seeing her three times a week for a month now, and we kept circling back to this topic. I hated it.
"We've talked about him," I said evasively.
"We've talked around him. But you haven't really examined how his parenting shaped your relationship patterns." She leaned forward. "Adrian, you told Elena that your father taught you vulnerability was weakness. Let's unpack that."
I stared at the ceiling of her office, wrestling with the urge to walk out. But I'd promised myself I'd do this. Really do it, not just go through the motions.
"He trained me to be Alpha from the time I could walk," I said finally. "Every decision, every interaction, every emotion was scrutinized. If I cried, I was weak. If I showed affection, I was soft. If I admitted I didn't know something, I was incompetent."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It was normal. I didn't know anything different." I sat up. "He'd create these tests. Put me in situations designed to make me fail, then punish me for failing. Said it would make me stronger."
"Like the tests you put Elena through."
The parallel hit like a punch to the gut. "I... I didn't think of it that way."
"But you see it now?"
I did. God help me, I did. I'd recreated my father's toxic parenting style in my relationship. Test Elena's love, push her boundaries, punish her for not meeting impossible standards.
"I'm just like him," I whispered.
"No," Dr. Chen said firmly. "You have patterns you learned from him. But you're here, doing the work to change them. That's the difference. He chose to stay that way. You're choosing something different."
"Elena might never forgive me."
"That's her right. You hurt her badly, Adrian. For a long time." She set down her pen. "But here's what I want you to understand: you're not doing this to get Elena back. You're doing this because you deserve to be healthy, regardless of whether she returns."
The floating messages agreed:
[Yes! Therapy breakthrough!]
[The Alpha is finally getting it]
[Character growth montage incoming...]
After the session, I sat in my car for a long time, thinking about my father and Elena and the man I wanted to become.
My phone rang. Marcus.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble.
"What now?"
"Sophia's gone to the media. Major interview with Pack Weekly. It drops tomorrow."
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. "What's she saying?"
"I got an advance copy. She's claiming you led her on, promised her a future, then discarded her for 'the one that got away.' She's painting herself as the victim and you as a callous playboy Alpha."
"For fuck's sake."
"It gets worse. She's implying that Elena left because you were cheating with Sophia the whole time. That the wedding drama was Elena finding out about an affair."
Rage flooded through me. "That's complete bullshit!"
"I know. But it's a good story, and Pack Weekly is running with it. They've already promoted it on social media—'The Alpha's Secret Affair' or some garbage like that."
I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. Every time I tried to move forward, something dragged me back.
"What do I do?"
"You could sue for defamation. Or issue a counter-statement. Or..." Marcus paused. "Or you could get ahead of it. Tell your side of the story first."
"A public interview?"
"A real one. Not corporate PR speak. Actual honesty about what happened, why it happened, and what you're doing to change." He sighed. "It's risky. Alphas don't usually air their failures publicly. But it might be the only way to control the narrative."
I thought about it. My father would be furious—he'd always taught me that Alphas maintain appearances at all costs. But my father's way had gotten me here: alone, miserable, and losing Elena.
"Set it up," I said. "But I want editorial control. And I want them to know this isn't going to be some puff piece."
"You're sure?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway."
Two days later, I sat across from Jennifer Park, one of the most respected journalists in the pack media world. She'd built her reputation on tough, fair interviews that didn't let Alphas hide behind their titles.
"Thank you for agreeing to this," she said, setting up her recorder.
"Thank you for giving me the chance to set the record straight."
"Before we start, I need to be clear: I'm going to ask hard questions. About Sophia Chen, about Elena Sterling, about your behavior at the wedding. If you want a friendly interview, I'm not your person."
"I don't want friendly. I want honest." I met her eyes. "Ask whatever you want."
She smiled slightly. "Alright then. Let's start with the wedding. What were you thinking when you gave your engagement ring to your fiancée's bridesmaid?"
And for the next two hours, I told the truth. All of it.
I admitted to the mind games, the manipulation, the tests. I explained about my father's influence, my control issues, my fear of vulnerability. I talked about therapy and the work I was doing to change.
I didn't excuse my behavior. I didn't blame Elena. I just... owned it.
"Do you love Elena Sterling?" Jennifer asked near the end.
"Yes. She's my mate, and I love her. But I didn't know how to love her in a healthy way. I thought love meant control, possession, making someone prove their devotion." I paused. "I was wrong about all of it."
"Do you think she'll forgive you?"
"I don't know. I hope so, but I understand if she doesn't. What I did—the manipulation, the public humiliation—that's not something you just get over." I looked directly at the camera. "If you're watching this, Elena, I want you to know: I'm not asking for another chance. I'm just asking you to believe that I'm trying to be better. That I understand now what I didn't then. You deserved better. You still do."
When the interview wrapped, Jennifer turned off her recorder and studied me.
"That was either the bravest or stupidest thing an Alpha has done in my twenty years covering pack politics," she said.
"Probably both."
"The other Alphas are going to crucify you for this. Admitting weakness, going to therapy, talking about your failures publicly—that's not how the game is played."
"Then maybe it's time to change the game." I stood up to leave. "When does this air?"
"Tomorrow night. Prime time." She paused. "For what it's worth, Alpha Blackwood? I hope Elena sees this. And I hope she gives you the chance to prove you've changed. But more than that, I hope you're doing this for yourself, not just for her."
"I'm trying to."
The interview aired the next evening. Within an hour, my phone exploded.
My father: You've made us a laughingstock. Therapy? Admitting mistakes? Have you lost your mind?
Other Alphas, calling to express their "concern" about my fitness to lead.
Pack elders, demanding a meeting.
But there were other messages too:
Pack members thanking me for being honest.
Young wolves saying they'd struggled with similar issues and felt less alone.
And one message that made my heart stop:
Pippa: Elena watched your interview. She's not ready to talk yet, but she wanted you to know she saw it. —P
Not a message from Elena herself. But confirmation that she'd watched. That she'd heard me.
It was something.
The floating messages appeared:
[Public accountability complete!]
[The Alpha is really doing the work]
[But the real test is still coming...]
I stared at that last message, wondering what it meant.
Then my phone rang again. Marcus.
"Turn on Pack News Network. Now."
I grabbed the remote and flipped to the channel. Sophia was on screen, tears streaming down her face, telling a reporter that my interview was "victim blaming" and that she was filing a lawsuit against me and Blackwood Industries for emotional distress and defamation.
"Of course she is," I muttered.
But underneath the frustration, I felt something unexpected: relief.
Because for the first time in my life, I'd told the complete truth about my failures. I'd made myself vulnerable on a massive public stage. And the sky hadn't fallen.
My father was furious. Other Alphas questioned my leadership. Sophia was suing.
But I'd done the right thing.
And maybe—just maybe—that mattered more than maintaining appearances.