Page 140 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
The story was this: Valerie had stayed with Ollie to wait for the bus, keeping him in sight until she was sure he’d boarded. She wasn’t one of the teachers traveling, so like everyone else, she went home. But then she noticed he’d left his water bottle with her. When she went back to return it, the school was in chaos—searching for Ollie.
One moment, he was on the bus. The next, a teacher announced a bathroom break for anyone who needed it…and that was the last time anyone saw of my son.
My chest constricted as the events replayed in my head. I couldn’tstop imagining all the ways this could end badly, no matter how hard I tried to push those thoughts away. What if I never saw him again? What if someone had hurt him?
Luca had been working closely with the Manhattan Intelligence Division (MID), a unit he’d built over the last five years to handle security threats. They were coordinating with the few Bronx police officers who’d cooperate. Since Luca had called off the wedding, Alpha Moreau refused to spare anyone from his own team.
Luca had even put up an enormous bounty for any real lead.
In the last twenty-four hours, seven people had come forward. Every single one a liar, looking to cash in on our desperation. Not a single credible lead.
I paced my living room, clutching Ollie’s small blanket, pressing it to my face to inhale his scent. My phone sat heavy in my hand as I waited for Luca’s update on the latest so-called informant.
Then the thought hit me—sharp and cold.
Three days ago, Elena had stood in my living room, promising to “make me pay” for stealing her fiancé. The Inspector of the MID said suspects were evaluated on three things: motive, means, and opportunity.
Elena had all three.
Motive? Revenge.
Means? She was the “Princess of the Bronx”. If she wanted someone to do her dirty work, all she had to do was pay.
Opportunity? I wouldn’t put it past her to have someone slip into the school and take my son.
I didn’t care how far-fetched it sounded. I would pull at any thread, visible or not, if it led me to Ollie.
Grabbing my phone, I didn’t bother fixing the tangled mess of my hair. I hailed a cab and gave the driver one destination: the Moreau Estate.
What was usually a twenty-five-minute ride to the Moreau Estate felt like the longest thirty minutes of my life. Every slow-moving car in front of us, every stop sign, every red light added to the trepidation building inside me. And not just trepidation—anger. Because, so helpme God, if Elena had anything to do with my son’s disappearance, I wouldn’t care what title she gave herself. Even if she was the fucking daughter of the King of England, she was going to see the worst part of me—the cruel part. Everyone had one, and it only took one extremely bad circumstance to bring it to life.
The driver pulled up in front of the iron gates and zoomed off, muttering something about a “crazy woman”, but it barely registered with me. I ran toward the gate and rang the doorbell frantically.
The familiar security guard emerged, wearing an unwelcoming look. He would usually open the gate without a word, but this time he hovered, eyeing me from head to toe with clear disdain.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was cold. “Ms. Moreau specifically mentioned not to—”
“I need to speak with Elena,” I cut him off, rushing the words out, my eyes pleading. “Please, this is very important. I really need to speak to her. My son is missing, and I don’t know where he is…” My voice cracked on the last sentence. “Please, you have to help me. Please.”
His expression softened, but conflict clouded his features—like he sympathized with me, but still had a job to do.
“I’ll call her—that’s the least I can do. But if she refuses you entry, there’s nothing I can do.”
I nodded in appreciation, blinking back the tears wetting my lower eyelids as I watched him disappear into the building. Seconds later, the gate’s doors buzzed and swung open.
“She’s waiting at the gazebo,” he said.
I took off toward it, heart hammering, my chest a storm of panic, rage, and desperate hope. Hope—because if she had my son, at least I would know who had him. It was better than not knowing at all.
Elena stood on the steps of the gazebo, draped in a silk robe, her hair perfectly styled despite the late hour. The sight of her—composed, untouchable—made my fury spike.
“Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping venom. “When the guards called to tell me they’d found a rat on my doorstep, my first instinct was to turn you away. But then I thought—maybe you came to apologize. And I’d love nothing more than to see you grovel, begging me notto ruin your life. Because trust me, Leila…” Her gaze hardened. “I will.”
“I didn’t come here to apologize, Elena.”
“So, what then? You came to gloat about stealing my fiancé?” Her voice sharpened like glass.
“Where is he?” My voice was steady for half a second before it cracked.
