CHAPTER 102: STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT

{Elira}

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I tried not to stare too obviously, but then I heard his voice again.

"Help yourself."

My head snapped up. He was still typing.

I hesitated, cheeks warming, but then I reached forward and plucked a pale pink macaron from the tray. It tasted like rose and vanilla, and I nearly melted.

Moments later, Zenon stood from his desk and crossed the room. He placed the thick yearbook onto the table in front of me without a word.

"Thank you," I said softly, my fingers brushing the textured cover.

He gave a slight nod, then pointed to the corner. "There’s water. If you’re thirsty."

I followed his hand to the dispenser.

"There are cups beside it," he added. "And you can check the fridge too."

I blinked. "The fridge?"

"See if there’s anything you like."

Then he turned and walked back to his desk without waiting for a reply.

I stared after him, unsure what to make of it. This version of Zenon — quiet, polite, bordering on thoughtful — was completely disorienting.

Not long ago, he wouldn’t even let me finish a sentence before snapping. Now he was offering me snacks and letting me raid his fridge?

I preferred him cold and stoic. At least then, I knew where I stood. Now... now, I didn’t know what to expect.

Still, I got up, poured myself a cup of water, and thought about opening the fridge. But I didn’t. I sat back down and took slow sips, letting the coolness calm my nerves before I set the cup aside and opened the yearbook.

I flipped carefully through the pages, my heart tightening when I saw the familiar face of my mother staring back at me — younger, bright-eyed, radiant. Kathryn Morgan, it read beneath the photo.

I didn’t blink as I studied her. Then I turned the pages again and continued going through the photos. My gaze stopped at Cyprus Ashford.

Even as a student, his presence jumped off the page: square jaw, piercing eyes. I could see traces of the triplet brothers in him — the same sharpness of gaze, the quiet power in his posture.

I shifted my gaze to the next page, and that was when I found the student, Gwenith Vale.

I stared longer this time.

Her name alone made my pulse spike. But as I studied her student photo — elegant, confident, poised — I saw it. The resemblance. The sharp arch of the brows. The high cheekbones.

My gaze flicked up toward Zenon before I could stop myself. He was looking at me.

His laptop was open, but his eyes were on me, silent and unreadable. He didn’t even blink.

And then he said, "What is it?"

I swallowed, caught in the moment. "I just... was wondering. Is this Gwenith Vale... your mother?"

"Yes."

He didn’t elaborate. Just that — a confirmation, then silence as he returned his attention to the laptop before him, fingers moving effortlessly across the keyboard.

I blinked, my gaze dropping back to the page where Luna Gwenith’s student photo stared back at me.

There was an air of pride, almost defiance, in the curve of her lips. The same pride I’d heard in her voice the night she had spoken so harshly about my mother.

But I didn’t want to look at her anymore. I turned the pages once again. And there she was again—my mother. Kathryn Morgan.

A full spread dedicated to her, framed in clean lines and bold letters. My breath caught somewhere in my chest as I read the heading:

ESA’s Best Graduating Student — 1988.

My mother’s younger self smiled back at me from a formal portrait — bright-eyed, radiant, her long chestnut hair swept behind her shoulders.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my mother look like that, strong, hopeful and full of life.

Beneath the portrait, the list of her accomplishments ran like a royal scroll:

Youngest President, Student Council — 1987/1988

Gold Medalist, Advanced Combat Theory

Champion, ESA Inter-School Wolf Race (Record Holder)

Awarded "Most Inspiring Student of the Decade"

Founder of the ESA Academic Resource Circle

Special Ambassador to the Shifter Peace Delegation at Seventeen...

It went on. And on.

My fingers trembled slightly as I trailed down the column, reading about a young woman who wasn’t just bright — she was blazing. The kind of student who turned heads and stirred admiration across campus.

Why... why had I never known this side of her?

From what I remembered of my mother, she had always been quiet, reserved. Almost withdrawn. As a Beta’s wife, she attended only the most obligatory of gatherings, and even then, she was a shadow in the corner. She never spoke about her past, and I never knew it mattered.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to push down the sudden rush of emotion. It hurt. Not because I was angry at her — but because I missed the woman I never got to know.

The woman who had once ruled the halls of ESA with her brilliance. What had dimmed her?

What had broken her?

Why did she bury all this?

A sharp pain twisted in my chest. My mother had once been everything I was afraid I couldn’t become — powerful, influential, respected.

And yet she had chosen to vanish.

I shook the thought away, drawing in a deep breath as my eyes went back to the line that resonated well with me.

Student Council President.

I looked back at her portrait — the bold set of her chin, the confidence that almost pulsed through the photo. The realization hit me like a thunderclap.

My mother... had once led this entire school. She hadn’t just passed through ESA — she had shaped it.

And suddenly, something cracked open in me. A breath of cold, bright clarity.

I wanted that more than anything.

Not because I wanted power or a title. But because I wanted to understand her. I wanted to walk the paths she had walked, feel the weight of her choices, chase the fire she must have felt in her veins at my age.

I wanted to reclaim what she had lost. To make it mine.

To live the life my mother once lived — but stronger. Louder. With no shame or shadows.

I wanted to sit where she had sat one day, to speak where she had spoken.

I wanted to be Student Council President.

The ambition gripped me so tightly, it left no room for fear. No room for second-guessing. Just a steady burn rising from my chest.