Page 22 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
I hopped on one foot, bouncing around the room like a frantic flamingo as I tried to squeeze my heel into the particularly stubborn stiletto. No idea why I picked this pair. Or the black camisole over a pencil skirt and black pantyhose. Of course, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was returning to the Moreau Estate to continue with planning the wedding ceremony slash wedding of my ex-Fated Mate, ex-lover, ex-boss, ex-everything. No, no. This? This was how you dressed to impress at a work meeting. Nothing more.
It had been two whole days since I saw him again. Two whole nights of trying to will myself to sleep without seeing his face—his perfectly chiseled jaw lifting in that smug half smirk. Or his lean, muscular body draped in that suit that looked like it was custom-made for him.
God, I hated that everything about him was still perfect. It made itimpossible to hate him properly. And I wanted to hate him. I needed to.
Because beneath the tailored charm was the man who’d turned his back on me when I needed him the most. Who believed the lies. Who rejected me without batting an eyelash.
The years had sculpted him into something even more dangerous. The charm was gone. He’d traded it in for something rougher, darker. I liked the stubble shadowing his jawline, the way his hair fell like he just rolled out of bed—messy but deliberate.
After five years, I liked to think I was more emotionally mature now. Stronger. Capable of ignoring the way my body still betrayed me when I saw him. Capable of reminding myself that the bond we shared didn’t just break—it was severed. And he was the one who wielded the knife.
Because this time, if I failed, the cost wasn’t just heartbreak. It was everything.
If I lost this job, which I already loathed with the heat of a thousand suns, I’d fall even deeper into debt. And most terrifying of all, if Luca ever found out the truth, if he discovered I had his child five years ago and kept it from him, he’d rip Ollie from my arms. He had the power. The law. The pack. He was Alpha of the second-largest pack in New York. And he was Luca—unrelenting, merciless…and unapologetically himself.
I stepped outside to check the mailbox, half expecting to be haunted by another bill.
Two white envelopes stared back at me.
One for the electricity bill. The other for the phone bill.
Perfect.
Just…perfect.
I slammed the mailbox shut, harder than necessary, and stomped back inside. Ollie still wasn’t down.
“Ollie! If you’re not down in the next ten seconds—”
“Coming, Mom!”
Hurried footsteps rushed down the stairs.
“Hey, hey, careful—”
Too late. Before I even got to complete that sentence, he missed a step, tumbled down, and landed face-first at the bottom of the stairs.
My heart stopped.
“Ollie!” I rushed to him, panic flaring in me.
I gathered him into my arms, my hands scanning for broken bones. He winced as he tried to sit up, and I gently set him on the step. There was a nasty scrape on his knee.
I darted into the kitchen, yanked open the cabinet, and grabbed the first aid kit. But when I returned to patch him up, the scrape was gone.
Healed. Not a trace left.
I should be relieved. Grateful. My son didn’t have to feel pain—not like other kids.
But I didn’t feel relieved. Nor did I feel grateful. Because it wasn’t the fact that he healed so fast that made the blood drain from my face. It was why.
He was born of an Alpha bloodline, which meant his wolf-shifting abilities were amplified. And every day, his gift—this truth—was becoming harder to hide.
Ollie reached up, placing his small hand under my chin. “Mom?”
I forced a smile and covered his hand with mine. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
