Page 43 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
I loved him because he made me feel seen in a world that had always overlooked me.
And as the universe would have it, he was my Fated Mate.
I was relieved when the subway ride came to an end. Back at home, I was setting the dinner table when my father staggered through the front door. Drunk. As usual.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted him softly.
He didn’t acknowledge me. He just dropped into his usual chair, body slumped like all the fight had drained out of him years ago. I plated his food and placed it in front of him, then took the seat across the table—not beside him like I used to.
He’d never hit me. My father wasn’t that kind of man. At least, he hadn’t been.
But lately, I wasn’t sure what kind of man he was anymore. He was a shell—an echo of the man I’d adored growing up. The man who taught me to ride a bike. The man who never missed a school recital. That man had vanished. Now, his temper lit like dry twigs. He was now involved in gambling deals that had taken away all his money and joy. I’d learned to stay out of reach when he started to burn with rage.
Silence had become the third guest at our dinner table. So, when he spoke, the words barely registered.
I looked up from my plate. “What did you say, Dad?”
He mumbled again, then said louder, “I said you were on Manhattan’s Pack Daily news. Again. Dressed in some expensive ass gown. Dripping in jewelry. Letting that Alpha of yours parade you around like a trophy.”
Spite clung to every word like grime under his nails. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t even know if I should.
I settled for a noncommittal “hmm” and kept eating.
The silence crept back in. Then he shattered it again.
“The mortgage bill came in. Four grand. Think you can ask your fancy Alpha boyfriend for the money? That’s pocket change to someone like him, right?”
My fork hit the plate with a sharp clatter. I let out a long sigh, the weight of this exact conversation pressing down on me again.
“For the last time, Dad, I’m not going to ask Luca for money. Just because he’s my Mate doesn’t mean I have a right to his bank account.”
“Then what good is he if he can’t help us?”
His fist slammed against the table. His fork flew. His voice thundered.
I didn’t even flinch. I was past reacting.
That was my cue to leave. Appetite gone.
Wordlessly, I picked up my plate, scraped the leftovers into the bin, rinsed it off in the sink, and headed to my room.
The weeksthat followed weren’t any better. My father’s debt ballooned from four thousand to eight. And to make things worse, he’d borrowed from a loan shark. Since then, he’d stopped coming home on time. Most nights, I’d leave his food out and eat mine in silence. That became our new normal.
But even with everything unraveling at home, something else had begun to stir in me. A strange kind of feeling. Not the kind that came from stress or exhaustion. This was something deeper.
I’d started getting dizzy at work. My energy was constantly dipping.And then the click—the sharp, inevitable click—that confirmed the suspicion I’d been pushing to the back of my mind: I’d missed my period.
On the way home that day, I stopped at the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test. Back at the apartment, I sat on the toilet, waiting for the results to appear. Five minutes felt like five lifetimes.
As I waited, I let myself feel.
To my surprise, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was…thrilled.
The thought of a baby—his baby—growing inside me made my heart skip. Luca and I had talked about family a few times. Despite everything with his own family, despite how broken and cold his relationship with his brother and father was, Luca had always wanted one of his own. A real one.
I’d imagined he’d be happy when I told him. Maybe even ecstatic.
If there was news to tell.
