Page 48 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
Charles raised a brow. “Then why’d you ask me to find her address?”
“To return this damn Labubu,” I snapped.
The irritation came fast and hot. I was tired of the reminders. Everyone seemed to think I needed to be reminded of what I had tolose if I didn’t marry Elena—as if I didn’t already wake up every day with that weight pressing against my throat like a collar.
“Do you have it?” I asked.
He nodded. “I do.”
Charles pulled a small folded slip of paper from his pocket and handed it over. I glanced at the address, then slid it into my own pocket.
His gaze lingered. Too long.
“Quit staring at me like that. Don’t you have better things to do?”
“I’m still waiting for your directive on the information I brought.”
Right. The Q3 projections.
“I’ll set up a meeting with Sterling Moreau to discuss the terms of our agreement and revert things back to you. In the meantime, shore up the projections. Stabilize the PR narrative. And tell legal to prepare a version of the contract that doesn’t hinge on my wedding to Elena—just in case.”
Charles narrowed his eyes. “Just in case what?”
“Just do as I say, Charles.”
I grabbed my suit jacket, the Labubu, and my car keys, then walked out of my office without another word. Once inside my car, I punched the address into the GPS and let the voice guide me toward Leila’s house.
After an almost two-hour ride,I pulled over on the side of the road beside the house. Her house…it was small. Modest. A neat little building with a front yard just big enough to accommodate garden beds. The red brick exterior had seen better days, and the walkway was cracked in several places, like the house had aged faster than it should’ve.
There was a toy tricycle tipped on its side near the porch and a green ball resting in the grass like it had just rolled to a stop.
First the Labubu, then the tricycle…now a ball? Was Leila collecting toys for kids? On second thought, she had mentioned picking up her neighbor’s kid—Ollie, I think—when I cornered her at the Moreau Estate bathroom. That must explain the toy.
I killed the engine and reached for the Labubu still sitting in the passenger seat when I heard it—running footsteps.
A boy bolted from the back of the house, chasing after the green ball. Small, fast, barefoot. His hair was a mop of dark curls, bouncing with every step, and when he caught the ball and threw it in the air again, he laughed. Loud, carefree. His eyes—steel gray—sparkled with mischief.
He couldn’t have been older than four. Maybe five.
And just like that, everything in me stilled.
Not just a pause. It was a full-body jolt.
My wolf went quiet—dead quiet. No growling, no pacing. Just stillness. Watching.
Something was off. I couldn’t explain it. I’d never seen this kid before in my life. But the moment I laid eyes on him, something inside me pulled taut. Like I was remembering something I’d never known.
My gaze tracked his movements—sharp and precise for his age. The way his little fists clenched around the ball, the determined set of his jaw.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until my chest burned.
Something about him felt…familiar. Not in the way of déjà vu, but in a deep, primal way—something my mind couldn’t place.
The boy scooped up the tricycle along with the ball and headed toward the house, disappearing inside the house.
I don’t know how long I sat there after that. My fingers clenched the steering wheel, mind spinning with thoughts. When I finally remembered what I came here for, I grabbed the Labubu, stepped out of the car, and made my way toward the front door.
I hit the bell and heard it ring. Once. Twice.
