The Fate Of The Alpha's Forgotten Mate

"I won't let you take my child away from me!"

Annie's voice cracked as she ran through the woods. Her long, dark hair clung to her face, wet with sweat and tears. The man ahead of her didn't stop,he clutched baby Marcel against his chest, ignoring the cries.

"Stop!" she screamed, breath catching. "Don't you dare touch him! He's the future. Give him back!"

The man didn't answer. He just kept running toward the old pickup parked outside the cabin.

Annie grabbed a thick branch from the ground and pushed herself faster.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps,too late.

The branch slammed against the side of his head with a sickening thud. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, baby and all.

Marcel hit the ground with a soft cry, cushioned by the blanket.

"No, no, no..." Annie gasped, dropping to her knees. She scooped him up quickly, checking his tiny face. "Shh, you're okay. I've got you, my moonlight. Mommy's here."

The baby stopped crying the second she touched him. His silver-gray eyes locked onto hers, wide and too alert for his age.

She kissed his forehead. Her lips lingered there, trembling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, rocking him slowly. "I should've come sooner. The Diego bloodline will pay for this. They want to erase us,wipe out our bloodline and take our place."

Baby Marcel giggled.

Annie laughed too, tears still rolling. "Yes, my child. You're a born leader, and no one will take that from you. You're my future Alpha."

Behind her, the man's body lay still. Blood pooled around his head, soaking into the leaves.

Annie looked up at the night sky. The moon, almost full, peeked through the trees.

She stood, holding Marcel tight, and ran.

By morning, she reached a quiet street lined with small houses and sleepy trees. A woman was watering flowers two doors down. Annie ducked behind a fence, heart pounding.

She spotted a small brick house with blue shutters. Warm yellow curtains. A wind chime swayed gently on the porch.

Annie pressed her lips to Marcel's cheek. "You'll be safe here," she whispered. "They won't know what you are. They'll just love you."

She placed him gently on the porch steps, wrapped tight in his blanket. His plastic elephant toy sat beside him, one ear chewed from teething.

Marcel whimpered.

Annie's hand hovered over his head.

"I love you," she breathed. "You'll feel it, even if you don't remember."

She stepped back into the trees, swallowed by shadows.

A minute passed.

Then the front door creaked open.

"John?" the woman inside called. "Did you order something? There's something on the,oh my God. John!"

She rushed out, barefoot, dropping to her knees.

"It's a baby," she cried. "There's a baby here!"

Her husband appeared behind her. "What the hell,where did he come from? There's no note."

The woman looked around wildly. "We have to call someone. The police?"

Police Station

Inside the station, an officer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

"No missing baby reports," he said, reading off the screen. "No one's called about a lost infant. That's... unusual."

The woman who found Marcel held him close, rocking gently.

"He was just there," she said softly. "He wasn't cold. Someone had to have just left him."

The officer studied the child. "Healthy. No bruises. No ID. Nothing."

Another officer leaned in. "You sure you want to keep him with you for now?"

She nodded. "If no one comes forward... maybe it's a sign."

They left with the baby a few minutes later. As the door shut behind them, the younger officer muttered, "You feel that?"

"What?"

He glanced back at the hallway.

"I don't know. Like... a chill or something. That kid's eyes, did you see 'em? Gave me goosebumps.

Later that night...

Wrapped in fresh blankets and tucked into a quiet crib, baby Marcel slept soundly.

The plastic elephant toy lay beside him, its single ear flopped to the side, scuffed from teething and time. His tiny hand curled around it.

He didn't stir. Not even when the woman who had found him leaned over to check his temperature for the fifth time that hour.

"He's perfect," she whispered, brushing a finger down his cheek.

In his sleep, Marcel's fingers tightened slightly around the elephant's trunk.

It would be the one thing that stayed with him.

Through childhood tantrums, growing pains, and sleepless nights.

He never let go of it.

Not really.

Even when the paint faded, the plastic dulled, and one eye disappeared, it remained in his drawer. Untouched, but never forgotten.

His quiet place.

His anchor.

Twenty-Five Years Later

Marcel's office was dead silent.

Phones rang in the distance, but no one dared speak above a whisper. The tension wrapped around the floor like fog.

By the water dispenser, three staffers huddled,voices low, eyes flicking nervously toward the closed office door with the frosted glass.

"I still can't believe he fired Jacob," Laura said, her hands wrapped around a coffee cup she hadn't sipped from in five minutes.

"He didn't just fire him," Sandra replied. "He did it in under sixty seconds. No warning. Just,'you're dismissed.'"

Kennedy snorted softly. "Jacob was late twice in the same week. You know Mr. Johnson doesn't do 'second chances.'"

"Yeah, but the second time was because his wife was in labor," Laura whispered.

Sandra shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He told Jacob last month, 'If you're late again, don't bother walking in.' He meant it."

They all fell silent for a beat. The hum of the air conditioner filled the space between their words.

"I don't think he even blinks," Kennedy muttered. "He just looks at you and you feel like you've already failed."

Laura gave a quick nod. "It's like he's... watching for weakness."

"Or like he's hiding something," Sandra added. "Something old. You ever notice how the lights flicker when he's angry?"

Kennedy gave her a look. "Please don't start with that weird theory again."

"I'm serious," she said. "It's always colder when he walks by. Like goosebumps, every time."

They fell quiet again as footsteps approached sharp and controlled. Sandra turned pale.

"Act normal," she whispered quickly.

But it was just Claire, his assistant, clutching her tablet and moving with the practiced nerves of someone who had worked too long in fear.

No ''Can I have the file?'' She said to Sandra,who rushed to where she was standing and handed it over. They were so relieved.

Claire headed to Marcel's office.

"Mr. Johnson," his assistant said nervously, peeking into the room. "Mr. Jeffries is here for the pitch meeting. Should i.."

Marcel raised one hand slightly, not even looking up from his screen.

She stopped mid-sentence.

"He's five minutes late," Marcel said, voice low but sharp. "The meeting is over."

She blinked. "But, sir.."

His eyes lifted to meet hers. Calm. Cold.

That was all it took.

She swallowed hard, gave a small nod, and turned on her heel.

"Also," he added, "if you schedule a meeting for eleven, make sure it begins at eleven. Not 11:03."

"Yes, Mr. Johnson. Understood."

The door shut behind her.

Marcel leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. The city below sparkled with movement and life. But to him, it always felt... distant. Like watching from behind glass.

He was perfect on paper,young CEO, sharp mind, no scandals. But no one really knew him.

No one knew about the nightmares.

He woke at 3:12 a.m., gasping for breath. His body drenched in sweat.

The dream again.

A cabin. A scream. A man's body on the ground. A cupcake with one candle melting slowly. A woman's voice calling a name.

But the voice always faded before he could hear it clearly.

He got up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge.

A small cupcake sat inside.

Pink frosting.

He didn't know why he bought one every year. It just felt... necessary. Like muscle memory. Like grief with no face.

Marcel ran a hand through his hair and walked into his home office.

The office smelled faintly of coffee, glass cleaner, and nerves.

Jeremy stood stiffly by Marcel's desk, clutching a printed report like it was a live grenade.

Marcel didn't look up. He was typing, calm as always. Too calm.

Jeremy cleared his throat. "We found something in the quarterly audit."

Marcel's fingers paused over the keys. "Something," he repeated. "That's vague."

Jeremy stepped forward, placing the paper gently on the desk. "It's not good, sir. One of the financial managers,Valentino moved funds into a shell account. Quietly. Over months."

Marcel finally looked up. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp.

"Valentino?" he said slowly, as if tasting the name.

"Yes. He's been with the company for a few years. Clean record until now."

Marcel leaned back in his chair. "I want everything you can find on him. Discreetly. I don't want HR catching wind of this yet."

Jeremy nodded. "Should I alert security?"

"No. Not yet. I want to know who he talks to, where he goes, what he eats for breakfast if you can manage it."

Jeremy hesitated. "Sir, he's got a daughter. University student. Could be a motive. Family pressure, maybe?"

Marcel raised an eyebrow. "A daughter?"

Jeremy handed over a file. "Lucy Valentino. Waitress, part-time. Top of her class. Helps care for her mother. Her dad's income barely covers their bills."

Marcel didn't say anything for a long moment. He flipped the file shut.

"Start with him," he said. "Not her."

Across the City – 5:45 p.m.

The diner buzzed with the low hum of clinking glasses and tired conversations.

Lucy balanced three plates on her arm as she weaved between tables, dodging kids and spilled ketchup.

"Table five," June called from behind the counter. "Two burgers, one extra pickles!"

"I got it," Lucy replied, brushing hair from her forehead with her elbow.

She dropped off the plates at table seven and hurried back, tying her apron tighter. Her feet ached, but there was no time to feel it.

"Slow down, Lu," June said gently. "You'll wear a hole in the floor."

Lucy offered a tired smile. "I've got thirty minutes before Mom's next meds. If I leave on time, I'll catch the pharmacy before they close."

June's expression softened. "You're doing your best. Just remember to breathe."

Lucy nodded, grabbing the burgers and delivering them with a practiced smile. "Enjoy, folks."

At the back of the diner, her phone buzzed.

One voicemail. Unknown number.

She swiped it open.

"Miss Valentino, this is Officer Bright from the City Police Department. We need you to come down to the station. It's about your father. Please call us back as soon as possible."

Lucy froze.

The plate in her hand shook slightly.

She looked over at June, who noticed immediately.

"What happened?"

"I... I think my dad's in trouble," Lucy said, voice shaking. "Police just called."

Later That Night – Police Station

The room was too cold. Too white. Lucy sat in the chair across from Officer Bright, her hands clutched in her lap.

"Your father's been arrested," he said gently. "Charged with corporate embezzlement. Over three hundred thousand."

Lucy blinked. "That has to be wrong. He's never even been late to work. We can't even afford..." Her voice cracked.

"I know this is hard," the officer said. "But he confessed. Said he was trying to cover medical bills and your tuition.''

he just snapped."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "He wouldn't. He would've told me."

Officer Bright slid a paper across the table. "He wanted you to have this. He asked me to give it to you personally."

It was a letter.

Just one line in her father's handwriting:

I'm sorry, Lucy. I thought I could fix it before they noticed. I didn't want you to see me like this.

Meanwhile – Marcel's Office, 11:17 p.m.

Jeremy returned, holding a new file.

"He's been arrested," he reported. "Police have him in custody. Confessed to everything."

Marcel sat behind his desk, sipping coffee like he hadn't just ruined a family's life.

Jeremy added quietly, "They have a daughter, like I said. She's clean. No involvement."

Marcel didn't respond.

Jeremy hesitated. "It's just... she's struggling. School, her mom's illness. I thought maybe.."

"This isn't a charity," Marcel cut in. "I want every penny accounted for. I don't care if his daughter's a nun and his wife bakes cookies for orphans."

Jeremy shut his mouth.

But as he turned to leave, Marcel tapped the file.

"...Still," Marcel said, almost to himself, "find out where she works."

The room was dark, but Lucy couldn't move. Something heavy pressed down on her chest like cold air thick with fear.

"Come and see your brother," the woman whispered again. That voice cracked, cold, and trembling always came before the worst part. Lucy's tiny legs dangled as the woman carried her, barefoot, through the wooden hallway. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Every step creaked like it would give way.

She was six. Or maybe five. She didn't even remember how it started.

The boy was already there, sitting on the dusty floor of the candle-lit cabin. His wrists had red marks. He looked up when Lucy entered, and for a moment, she forgot how scared she was. His eyes were big and sad. He looked older maybe seven.

The woman dropped her beside him.

"You two... stop fighting," she muttered, rocking in a chair nearby. "No more running, Eliah. And eat the cupcake, Amaris."

Lucy didn't know who Amaris or Eliah were, but she guessed the woman thought they were her kids.

"She's not my mom," Lucy whispered to the boy when the woman turned away.

"I know," he said. His voice was hoarse. "She's not mine either."

He slid the pink cupcake towards her. It was half-squashed and smelled too sweet.

"She said it makes us strong," he added. "Eat it. It helps."

Lucy took it with shaking hands, blinking back tears. "I wanna go home."

"Me too," he replied softly.

But they never told each other their names. They never had time.

###

Lucy shot up in bed, her heart thudding loud enough to hear. Her neck was sticky with sweat. Her breath came fast and short like she'd been running.

Another dream.

She'd had them for years, ever since that night. But lately... they were getting clearer. Stronger. She could remember faces now. A smell. The feel of the floor under her feet.

She touched her chest, eyes darting to the window as the first light of morning crept in. A bird chirped outside, too cheerful for how broken she felt.

She had work.

###

The café was already buzzing when Lucy rushed in, still tying her apron. Her hair was a mess, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep. She hadn't even brushed her hair properly. She dropped her bag behind the counter and forced a smile at the manager, who didn't even glance at her.

"Table six!" June called.

"Got it," Lucy mumbled, grabbing a tray with two cups of steaming tea. Her hands were shaking.

"Hey," June said, stepping closer. "You okay? You look like death."

"I'm fine. Didn't sleep much."

"You never do."

Lucy gave her a small shrug and turned away. But as she neared the table, her foot caught the edge of a mop bucket someone had left out. The tray tilted too fast to fix and hot tea splashed onto a customer's white shirt.

He shouted, jumping up. "What the hell!"

"I...I'm so sorry!" Lucy gasped, grabbing napkins.

The man glared at her, fuming. "Are you drunk? Are you even trained?"

"I..."

"I'll handle it," June said, sliding in quickly. "Sir, your tea is on the house. Let me get a clean shirt from the back."

Lucy stepped away, cheeks burning, throat tight.

June followed her behind the counter and handed her a bottle of water. "Girl, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Lucy whispered. "The dreams are getting worse. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

June's face softened. "Your dad... the arrest. I know it's a lot. But you have to hold it together."

"I'm trying."

June nodded. "Go take a break before the boss sees you."

But it was already too late.

Their manager, Mr. Lewis, walked up, arms crossed. His sharp eyes scanned Lucy like she was a stain.

"Oh look, it's the embezzler's daughter," he said. Loud enough for others to hear.

June stiffened. "That's not fair. Her dad's case has nothing to do with her.."

"Quiet, June." He waved her off and turned back to Lucy. "First your father robs the city blind, now you're spilling tea on paying customers. One more screw-up and you're out."

Lucy clenched her fists, said nothing, and walked away before her mouth got her fired.

###

Her house felt too quiet when she got home. The curtains were still closed, and the fan buzzed in the living room. She dropped her bag by the door.

"Mum?" she called.

No answer.

Her brows furrowed as she stepped inside. The air felt off. Still.

"Mum?"

Then she saw her.

Her mother lay crumpled on the kitchen floor, one hand outstretched like she was reaching for something. A glass of spilled water glistened on the tiles near her head.

"Mum!" Lucy screamed, rushing to her. "Mum, wake up!"

She shook her gently, then harder. Nothing.

Her heart pounded as she fumbled for her phone and called an ambulance. The ride to the hospital was a blur. The walls, the waiting room, the endless beeping machines.

A nurse finally came out, holding a clipboard.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "She was gone before she arrived."

Lucy sat there, cold, blank, not crying. Just... empty.

It had been too much. Her father arrested. Her dreams turning into memories. Her job hanging by a thread.

And now her mother was gone.

That night, when Lucy fell asleep curled up on the couch, the dream returned.

His voice echoed clearer.

"You have to be strong,you can do this."

But she kept crying,how was she going to handle this,the disgrace now death.

Her mother was gone forever.