Page 133 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“Ollie, baby, go back upstairs,” I said quickly.
Elena laughed, low and cruel. “What’s this little shit going to do?”
That was it. I’d had enough of her calling my son names.
“Get out of my house.” I pointed to the door. “Before I call the police.”
She sneered. “And what exactly would the police do to me? You seem to forget who I am, Leila. My father controls the police. He’s the Alpha of the very pack you live in.” Her gaze flicked to Ollie, then back to me. “But fine. I’ll leave. And I’ll leave you with a promise.”
Her eyes burned. “I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you suffer. So much you’ll wish you’d never met me in your entire miserable life.”
With one last venomous look at me and Ollie, she turned on her heel and stormed out.
The door slammed shut, and silence pressed in. For a beat, all I could hear was my own breathing, sharp and uneven. Then the quiet creak of the stairs.
Ollie.
His small frame hovered halfway down, uncertainty clouding his face. My heart squeezed as I hurried toward him, crouching so we were eye to eye.
“Hey,” I whispered, brushing his hair back. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Why was she so mean?”
I pulled him against me, holding him tight. “Because sometimes people say ugly things when they’re hurting. But none of what she said was true. Do you hear me? None of it.”
He sniffed, leaning into me. “She called me a—”
I pressed a finger gently to his lips before he could finish. “Don’t even keep that word in your mouth. You are mine. Mine and your father’s. You are loved. And you are the best part of my whole world. Don’t ever forget that.”
I pulled him into a tight hug, hoping Elena’s theatrical act hadn’t scared my son.
It wasn’tuntil ten p.m. that Luca arrived at my house. When I heard the doorbell ring, fear clawed through me for a moment. But peering through the peephole and seeing him, I opened up instantly.
“Luca—what’s going on?” Relief coated my voice, though it was quickly edged by concern. He had bruises on his face and looked utterly dejected.
Luca’s response was to envelope me in a hug. I was confused at first, but I hugged him back, threading my fingers through his hair. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it was comforting. And in that moment, I felt safe.
Since Elena’s visit, I’d been on edge. I couldn’t ignore the promise of threat in her voice, the vindictiveness in her eyes—especially when she looked at my son. It had made me cranky all day. I didn’t bother telling him, because I didn’t want to give him one more thing to worry about in his pile right now.
When we finally disengaged, I guided Luca to the kitchen, grabbed an icepack from the fridge, and started pressing it against his bruised knuckles. With how red and swollen they were, someone had gotten the beating of their life today.
“How’s Ollie?” His voice cracked through the silence of the kitchen. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it here sooner. I was caught up in—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Luca,” I passed him a reassuring smile. “I understand right now that you have a lot of things going on in your life.”
“Are you sure?” Uncertainty filled his eyes. But there was also something else—remorse, guilt. Pity.
I nodded. “Ollie was a little disappointed, but I explained to him just how busy you were, and he understood. If he hadn’t already gone to bed, you would have caught him up. At least you still showed up—that’s what matters most.”
“Hmm…” Luca hummed, but said nothing else. His gaze still held that remorse, guilt, and pity for me.
I paused in pressing the icepack to his knuckles. “Luca,” I called, my voice soft. “What’s going on?”
For a moment, he averted his gaze, as though ashamed of something. And when he looked back at me again, there was a heaviness in his expression—like whatever he was about to say would forever alter something between us.
“There is something you need to know.”
I sat up straighter, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for the words that came next. In my wildest imaginings, this had never crossed my mind.
