#Chapter 83: Hidden Priorities


    Karl


    The mahogany door clicks shut behind me as I step into the conference room.


    Members of the council, influential businessmen and entrepreneurs who hold significant power in the


    hanging in the air, but right now, my thoughts are preupied with something—or rather, someone—


    else.


    Before I can approach the table, my secretary, Gianna, is waiting by the door for me. “Good morning,


    Alpha Karl,” she says, her voice low and even as usual. “Nice to see you after all this time.”


    I nod as I slip my jacket off and hang it on the hook. “I’m d to be back.”


    “And you’re staying, I presume?” she asks, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.


    For a moment, I feel almost like I’m being put on the spot. The others are preupied with their


    preparations, but Gianna’s gaze is unwavering. I always knew that she disapproved of my… adventure


    out to the city to win Abby back, but there’s something else in her gaze. Something I can’t quite put my


    finger on.


    “We’ll see,” I say, trying to be vague.


    Gianna blinks slowly before handing me the meeting’s agenda in a leather bound folder. As she does,


    our fingers brush, and she leans in.


    “Sir, I know this might not be my ce, but I heard that your… ex-wife is staying with you. Is that


    correct?”


    Her sudden choice of words gives me pause, especially in this setting. Slowly turning to face her, I can’t


    help but notice a subtle furrow of her brows, a tightening around her eyes. “And if she is, would that be


    that a problem?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.


    “No, not a problem,” she says, but her hesitation tells me otherwise. “Just… be careful around her, Karl.


    You know how things were.”


    I look at her squarely. “Abby never cheated on me. The gardener manipted the situation. Let’s not


    forget that.”


    Gianna’s expression shifts, a hint of guilt shing across her eyes, but before I can question it further,


    the room settles into a hushed silence, signaling the meeting''smencement. Gianna takes her seat,


    and I push my concerns aside, focusing on the task at hand.


    “Let’s get started,” I say, scanning the room. “First on the agenda—”


    The meeting progresses smoothly enough. Various issues are discussed: business acquisitions,


    investment opportunities,munity initiatives. But it’s thest item on the agenda that makes my


    stomach tighten.


    My brother’s condition.


    “As you all may know,” the local renowned physician and member of the council, Dr. Thompson,


    begins, “your brother may be waking up from hisa soon. How does that affect your position as


    Alpha?”


    All eyes are on me, probing, scrutinizing. I maintain myposure. “I wee it. If he wakes up,


    maybe a little friendlypetition for the role of Alpha wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Of course, my words


    are couched in a hint of humor. But at the same time, I can’t entirely deny the fact that there’s a bit of


    truth behind my words.


    I’ve been the Alpha here for years. No matter how much I love my brother, I won’t give up my position


    so easily. And besides, who’s to say that he’ll even be physically able to lead our pack?


    A low murmur courses through the room at my words. Then Mark, a council member who’s always


    been vocal about his opinions, speaks up.


    “But you’ve been working at a restaurant in the city, haven’t you, Karl?” he asks.


    I shrug. “That is correct,” I say. “And what of it?”


    Mark pauses, then shoots me an apprehensive look. “Perhaps being Alpha isn’t your top priority.”


    The words hang heavy in the air, and I can feel the atmosphere shift, the tension climbing up a notch. I


    look him straight in the eyes.


    “My reasons for working there are not up for discussion,” I say, letting my words cut through the room


    like a knife. “Meeting adjourned.”


    There’s a collective rustling as the council members gather their papers and stand, exchanging curt


    nods and stiff handshakes as they leave the room. I stay seated for a moment longer, letting the weight


    of the meeting sink in.


    “Karl,” Gianna says once they’re gone, snapping me out of my reverie. “I think you shoulde to


    Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    dinner tonight. We need to discuss a few more things.”


    I look up at her. There’s something off about her tone, something I can’t quite ce. Maybe because of


    that, I wind up making a snap decision. “You know what?” I say, standing. “That’s an excellent idea.


    We’ll hold a dinner at my house tonight.”


    For a moment, a peculiar expression crosses her face. It’s fleeting, but it’s there—a mix of surprise and


    something else I can’t identify. She quickly masks it with a professional smile.


    “Very well, sir. I’ll see you tonight.”


    …


    As I settle into the leather seat of my car, the engine purrs to life, but I don’t immediately pull out of the


    parking lot. My fingers drum on the steering wheel, my mind racing through the events of the day.


    Abby’s return home for the weekend, the council’s thinly veiled criticism, Gianna’s strange behavior—


    each thoughtpetes for attention, but it''s Abby who ultimately wins out.


    My wolf stirs, breaking his prolonged silence. “You know, this dinner tonight could be a good


    opportunity. A date with Abby, gaining her approval back.”


    I chuckle softly, already ahead of him. “That was the goal, my friend. I’m even thinking of taking her out


    shopping for a new dress before dinner. Let her choose whatever she wants, no price tag too hefty.”


    Memories flood back: me buying Abby thetest designer handbags, high-end jewelry, whisking her off


    on surprise getaways. I loved spoiling her, loved the shine it would bring to her eyes, or so I believed.


    “But did Abby ever really enjoy being spoiled?” My wolf’s question catches me off guard.


    I sigh, taking a moment to shift through years of memories and moments. Then it hits me. A shback


    steals over my thoughts.


    We were younger then, still grappling with the early years of our rtionship and my role as Alpha. I


    had missed our anniversary dinner due to an urgent Alpha matter. When I returned homete that


    night, I found her in our bedroom, crying softly into her pillow.


    In an effort to make it up to her, I went out the next day and bought an expensive diamond ne. I


    was certain it would cheer her up, that the sheer extravagance would wipe away her tears and


    disappointment.


    But when she opened the box, her face fell.


    “Karl, return it,” she said, her voice filled with a sadness I didn’t understand.


    “Why?” I asked, confused, maybe even a little offended.


    “Because you can’t buy my love,” she replied. “You always think that you can just… shower me with all


    the nes, bags, or gifts you want. But the truth is, I’d never appreciate them as much as spending


    quality time with you.”


    At the time, I thought she was being petty, maybe even bordering on ridiculous. Couldn’t she see these


    gifts were expressions of my love, mymitment?


    The memory fades, leaving a bittersweet ache in its wake. That’s when the realization hits me: my wolf


    is right.


    Maybe I can’t buy Abby’s love. Maybe what she truly wanted, what she might still want, is something


    money can’t buy. My time, my presence, my love expressed not through material things but through


    actions, small and significant alike. It’s proven itself right so far, hasn’t it?


    I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening. It’s a harsh realization, one that strikes at the core of


    what I believed love could be, what it should be. In this moment, I make a decision.


    “Alright,” I murmur out loud, more to myself than to my wolf. “Fine. No shopping spree, no extravagant


    gifts. Just me and Abby, spending quality time together.”


    My wolf hums approvingly, a low, resonant sound that vibrates through our shared consciousness. “It’s


    a start,” he says.