The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 157

Freya

"I'd be happy to," I'd replied, genuinely touched by her offer. It wasn't just work—it was recognition, something I'd been starved for since returning from exile.

"Perfect! I'll text you soon to arrange a time. Unfortunately, I have to run to another appointment," Selena had said, exchanging numbers with me before hurrying off.

I returned to the design department with Selena's words still warming me. Lunch had been a surprising respite—finding someone who remembered me, who spoke to me without suspicion or disdain, felt like stumbling upon water in the Forgotten Wilds.

As I settled back at my desk, my phone vibrated with an incoming call. The screen displayed "J. Stone." My heart rate quickened as I answered.

"Hello, Alpha Stone."

"Miss Potter." Jasper's voice sounded smooth and controlled. "I wanted to check in on your first day. Is everything to your satisfaction?"

I glanced around the office, noticing several heads turn in my direction at the mention of my fake name. "Yes, everything is fine," I answered, keeping my voice neutral despite the stares.

"Good. And lunch? I hope you found the cafeteria adequate."

"Actually, I had lunch with Selena Price. We... ran into each other."

There was a brief pause on the line. "Interesting coincidence. I'll have to thank her for showing you around."

"She was very kind," I said, mindful of the increasing attention from my colleagues.

"I'm glad to hear it," Jasper replied. "The design department can be... territorial with newcomers."

I almost laughed at the understatement. "I've noticed."

"You'll find your place," he assured me. "Wolves always do, eventually."

A brief silence fell between us, and I felt compelled to fill it. "And you? Did you have lunch?"

His low chuckle rumbled through the phone. "Is that concern for an Alpha I hear, little wolf?"

I immediately regretted the question, especially when I noticed Melissa passing by my desk, her lips curled in disgust as she muttered, "Sitting here slacking off and flirting with the boss."

"I should get back to work," I said quickly.

"Of course. I won't keep you." The amusement in his voice was unmistakable. "Good afternoon, Miss Potter."

I ended the call and immediately turned my attention to the pile of designs I'd been organizing. The task was monotonous but required enough concentration to keep my mind occupied. Hour by hour, I sorted through the blueprints and sketches, creating an organized system that would make the archives accessible.

The afternoon passed quickly as I immersed myself in the work. I noticed the subtle differences between designers' styles, the evolution of projects over time, and the recurring clients who seemed to prefer certain aesthetic approaches. There was something soothing about bringing order to chaos, even if it was just papers and folders.

Just as I was finishing the last batch, approaching what I assumed was the end of the workday, Carter appeared at my desk, dropping another thick stack of blueprints.

"These are from the department head's personal collection," he said with a smirk. "Emma wants them integrated with the rest."

I stared at the new pile, easily as large as what I'd spent all day sorting. "I see."

"Everyone's heading out soon," he added, glancing at his watch. "Don't worry about staying late. Security knows you'll be here."

Around me, other designers were shutting down computers and gathering their belongings. No one made eye contact or offered a goodbye. I took a deep breath and pulled the new stack toward me, determined not to show any frustration.

As the office emptied, Melissa stopped by my desk, her tall figure casting a shadow over my work. With a casual swipe of her hand, she knocked several of my carefully organized files to the floor, papers scattering across the carpet.

"Oops," she said, not bothering to hide her satisfaction.

I moved to pick up the fallen documents, but Melissa deliberately placed her foot on one of the folders, preventing me from retrieving it.

"So sorry," she said, her eyes flashing gold for an instant. "You're just so slow. Everyone's gone home, and you still have so much to do." Her voice dropped to a hiss. "If you can't keep up with us, don't be so shameless as to stay where you're not wanted."

My wolf stirred inside me, bristling at the challenge. Despite my exile mark limiting my abilities, I felt the familiar heat of defiance rising in my chest. I met her gaze steadily as I gently but firmly pushed her foot off my papers.

"Excuse me, you're stepping on my work," I said calmly. "And I appreciate your concern, but I'll manage just fine. If these little tricks are your way of trying to drive me away, you'll need to try harder."

Melissa's nostrils flared, clearly surprised by my resistance. She opened her mouth to respond when another voice cut through the tension.

"What's going on here?"

We both turned to see a woman standing in the doorway. She was in her early thirties, with sharp features and auburn hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her business attire was impeccable, and she carried herself with unmistakable authority.

As I knelt to gather the scattered papers, I noticed a familiar signature on one of the designs. Emma White. The department head whose work I was supposedly organizing.

"Nothing, Emma," Melissa replied quickly. "Just helping the new girl understand our filing system."

Emma's gaze swept over the scene—me on the floor collecting papers, Melissa standing over me, the mountain of work still on my desk. Her expression revealed nothing, but I sensed she was taking in every detail.

"I see," she said, her tone neutral. "And why is she organizing my personal collection after hours?"

Melissa hesitated. "Carter said you wanted—"

"I've been at the West Ridge client site all day," Emma interrupted. "I haven't spoken to Carter about anything." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm sensing a misunderstanding."

The tension in the air thickened. I continued gathering papers silently, keeping my head down but my senses alert. My wolf urged me to speak up, to defend myself, but years of survival instinct kept me quiet. Better to observe than expose myself further.

Emma's gaze shifted to me. "Look at me," she commanded.