Alpha's Redemption After Her Death

Lauren's POV

Two lines. Positive.

My head dropped between my shoulders, a heavy breath leaving my lips like a caress down my chest. Leaning over the porcelain sink, the stick in my hand trembled, nearly slipping to the floor.

The cool tile beneath my bare feet no longer felt sharp and biting—instead, it was warm.

Everything felt warm.

A smile broke across my face so fast it hurt, my lips trembling as I bit them to keep from grinning too wide. My free hand pressed to my stomach, tears welling up, threatening to spill over in a rush that left me dizzy. A disbelieving laugh slipped through my defenses.

Three years. It had been three years since I’d married Alexander, and now, finally, he had given me something I’d longed for—a child. I’d given him something too: an heir, strong and true.

All I could think about was the moment he’d walk through that door, how this news might bring a rare smile to his usually stern face.

If anything could, this would. Every Alpha wanted a strong heir—especially one as powerful and influential as my Alexander.

The low hum of his car pulling into the driveway jolted my heart, a reflex so natural it felt like breathing. Before I even realized it, my feet were already moving, carrying me to the door in a rush, eager for that first glimpse of him.

Until I skidded to a halt, my gaze dropping to the stick in my hand.

Crap!

Spinning on my heel, I stumbled back into the bathroom, shoving the stick into the drawer beneath the mirror.

My bare feet slapped against the marble floors as I sprinted down the hall again, curls bouncing wildly. Chandeliers cast sofi light above me, guiding my way like stars. I rounded the corner to the kitchen, catching myself on the doorway, beaming so brightly it hurt.

“Alexander!”

The heavy doors creaked open, and there he was, stepping inside like he owned not just the house but the entire world. The faint golden glow of the porch light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint scar his chin—a whisper of battles won.

His black hair, tousled from the day, framed his face in sofi disarray, a striking contrast to the precision of his tailored suit. Broad-shouldered and impossibly tall, he didn’t walk—he prowled, each step radiating authority as if the air itself bent to his will.

The jacket hugged his frame perfectly, stretching over a chest carved from stone and arms strong enough to hold the weight of the world, my world. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore, even if I tried.

He moved with deliberate precision, loosening the cuffs of his shirt with a practiced flick of his fingers. The fabric slipped from his wrists, the small motion somehow making my breath hitch.

But when his eyes landed on me, dark and stormy, something inside me froze. His gaze was hard, calculating, a cold intensity that didn’t match the warmth of my grin.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” he said, his voice low, but missing its usual teasing edge.

“Of course not!” I beamed, tiptoeing into the kitchen, clasping my hands behind my back. “Darling, please, I have the most wonderful news!”

The sound of papers slapping onto the counter cut me off.

I flinched, staring at the stack he’d thrown between us. My breath caught as the bold letters across the top stole all the air from the room.

Divorce Agreement.

It took a full moment for me to even blink, the warmth that had filled me moments ago draining away, replaced by something icy and clawing.

“Alexander… what is this?”

“You can read, can’t you?” His voice cut like a blade, sharper than I’d ever heard it. “Or is that above your poor waitress capabilities?”

The way he said it, like I was something beneath his shoe, made my head spin. “Alexa—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, lowering himself into a chair with an ease that made it worse. He tugged at the lace of his oxford, his movements calm, his voice biting.

“Don’t insult me with your surprise. You’re not stupid, Lauren—though you’d like me to think otherwise.

You were always a placeholder, a scandal for the headlines: ‘the common Luna and her Alpha.’ It made for excellent gossip. But if I’d had even a hint of the truth—if I’d known my fated mate was some wide-eyed orphan Omega, clinging to me with that empty smile—I wouldn’t have wasted a single breath on you.”

My vision blurred as I tried to piece together the jagged edges of his words.

Lost. I was more than lost.

“I…We were happy,” I managed, my voice trembling as I began to move toward him, slowly circling the counter as if stepping closer might bring clarity to this mess. “Three years. We were nothing but happy for three years. Where is this coming from?”

“Happy?” His laugh was cold and sharp as he tossed his oxford aside, the shoe clattering against the floor. He leaned forward, his dark gaze pinning me in place.

“Don’t rewrite history. You married me for the life you could never have otherwise—the house, the name, the privilege. You wanted it all, didn’t you? To live like someone you’re not.”

He rose smoothly, predatory, closing the distance between us in a single step. I had to crane my neck to look up at him, my nose nearly brushing his chest. His voice dropped to a low growl.

“Well, congratulations. I gave you everything. Now, your ‘loving husband’ has done the generous thing. That settlement will keep you more than comfortable.”

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until tears plopped against my collar bone. I shook my head, barely able to whisper his name.

“Alexander…wait—please.” My fist clenched the bottom of his white collared shirt, fabric twisting beneath my trembling fingers. “Alexander, I’m pre—”

The sharp chime of his phone silenced me. Calmly, he pulled away, retrieving the device as if mocking the storm raging inside me.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice sofiening in a way that used to be for me. The sound struck like a knife. I didn’t need to hear more to know who it was. “Hm… yeah, I know. I’ll be right there.”

I stared at the back of his broad shoulders, my nails digging into my palms.

Sophia. Everyone knew of her—Alexander’s first love. She never made any effort to hide their passionate history. But that’s all it was supposed to be—the past.

When he turned back, sliding the phone into his pocket, his expression was unreadable.

Ice. That’s all I saw.

Desperation clawed at me as I stepped forward, clutching his shirt again with trembling fingers. “I’ll sign.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, shaky but resolute. “But only if you answer one question.”

His eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing, and for the first time tonight, I had his full attention. “Go on.”

My gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips, desperate for a glimmer of truth, something to hold on to. “Did you…” My voice wavered as I clutched the fabric of his shirt tighter. “Did you ever truly love me?”

He leaned in slowly, deliberately, lowering his head until his face was just inches from mine. It was a tilt I recognized—intimate, familiar—but the sneer curling his lips wasn’t.

His breath brushed over my skin, the heat of his chest radiating through the shirt gripped in my trembling hands. For a moment, I wanted to believe this was all a mistake, that he might close the distance and pull me into him.

But his voice came low and rough, his answer slicing through me like a blade. “Never.”

The word landed like the final nail in a coffin, sealing me inside the ruin of everything I’d believed.

He straightened without another glance, his movements swifi and unrelenting as he ducked past me. His footsteps thundered down the hall, each one shaking the house, his presence suffocating even in retreat. The slam of his office door echoed like a death knell, leaving me frozen in place, my hands still raised as if clutching the ghost of him.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the fridge and the ticking of the clock.

A hollow scoff escaped me as I leaned over the counter, the papers twisting dread deep into my stomach. My trembling hand pressed to my temple, as if I could hold myself together.

All this time… a game. A spectacle. Marrying me had been nothing but a performance, and all along, his heart… his heart belonged to Sophia.

What room could there ever be for me? For us?

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, clutching the ache as my blurred gaze skimmed the fine print, the letters swimming on the page.

My head dropped between my shoulders, a heavy breath leaving my lips like a knife down my chest. Leaning over the marble, the pen in my hand trembled, nearly slipping to the floor. The cool tile beneath my bare feet felt biting, and cold.

Everything felt cold. Two lines.

One for me, and one for him. I signed it.

Letting my trembling hand follow through what my heart couldn’t.