CLAIMED BY MY EX'S ALPHA UNCLE

CHAPTER 1: PLAIN RAIN

The string quartet downstairs sounded like a cruel joke.

Their sweet, happy music floated up the big marble staircase of the Vance house, mixing with the clinking of wine glasses, polite laughter, and the voices of two hundred wealthy guests. They were all down there drinking expensive champagne to celebrate my future. To celebrate us.

Tonight was our official engagement party. For three years, I had been patient. I learned how to stay in the background, quietly holding Matthew’s hand while he built his reputation. Tonight was supposed to be the night it all paid off.

I stood near the balcony doors on the second floor, taking in a breath of cool night air to calm the nervous fluttering in my chest. I smoothed down the front of my white suit jacket, feeling a quiet warmth inside. I’ve never been a loud person. I never needed to show off or be the center of attention. My scent was just like me—a calm, soft smell of cool morning rain. Fresh, simple, and quiet.

I reached into my jacket pocket and touched the soft velvet box inside. It had taken me six whole months to find that vintage watch. Matthew had seen it in a magazine a year ago and said he loved it. I saved every extra dollar I had just to buy it for him tonight.

A faint rustle of silk made me look down the quiet, dimly lit hallway toward the private guest rooms.

I turned, frowning a little. Guests weren't allowed upstairs tonight. I thought someone had gotten lost, but as I took a step forward, the breeze brought a sudden smell down the hall that hit me like a slap to the face.

Sweet vanilla.

Heavy, thick, and sickeningly familiar.

It was Matthew’s scent. But it wasn't the clean, light smell he usually had. It was hot, desperate, and heavy. And mixed right in with his vanilla was another smell that made my blood run cold.

Powdered jasmine and honey.

My feet froze. The velvet box in my pocket suddenly felt like a heavy rock against my ribs.

Jasmine and honey didn't belong to a lost guest. They belonged to Tyla.

My nineteen-year-old half-brother.

No, my brain tried to tell me. No, Tyla is just feeling sick. Matthew is just helping him. But my feet kept moving anyway, pulling me down the hall toward the bedroom at the very end.

The heavy door was mostly closed, but not all the way. A thin crack of bright yellow light spilled out onto the dark carpet.

I stopped. I couldn't breathe. Everything inside me told me to turn around, run down those stairs, grab a drink, and pretend I never walked down this hall.

Instead, I leaned forward and looked through the crack.

The bedroom was a complete mess. Expensive clothes were thrown all over the floor—a dark silk tie, a dress shirt, Matthew’s jacket tossed over a chair.

On the big bed, tangled in the white sheets, were two people.

Matthew was on top, his bare back covered in sweat as he moved heavily. His hands were gripping the hips of the person beneath him.

And lying under him, with his head thrown back, was Tyla.

Tyla’s fingers were twisted in Matthew’s dark hair, his legs wrapped tight around Matthew’s waist. He was making soft, fake little gasps—sounds I had heard him make a hundred times when he wanted our dad’s sympathy, or when he wanted to make me look like the bad guy.

"Matt... please," Tyla whispered, his voice shaking in a dramatic way. "What if Soren comes up? What if he catches us? He's going to ruin everything..."

Matthew didn't even slow down. He buried his face in Tyla’s neck, letting out a low growl. "He won't. Soren is too predictable. He’s downstairs playing the perfect host like he always does. He has no idea."

"He's your fiancé, Matt," Tyla said, his hands pulling Matthew closer. A tiny, mean smile touched the corner of Tyla's lips—a smile Matthew couldn't see because his face was buried in Tyla's neck. "He's wearing your ring right now."

"It's just a business deal, Tyla," Matthew muttered against Tyla’s skin. "My dad wanted his family's money. But Soren... Soren is just so boring. He’s cold. His scent just smells like plain rain—there's no heat to it. He looks at me like a problem to solve, not an Alpha to care about. He doesn't make me want him the way you do."

"Plain rain," Tyla hummed, leaning his head back while Matthew kissed his neck. "Poor Soren... so boring."

"You're the one I actually want," Matthew growled. "I'll marry him for the money, but you're the one I want in my bed."

Standing out in the dark hall, I didn't scream.

I didn't throw the door open. I didn't cry. The big, dramatic breakdown you're supposed to have when your life falls apart... it just didn't happen.

Instead, a complete, terrifying silence washed over my mind.

Plain rain. Boring.

Three years. Three years of helping him fix his mistakes at work so his dad wouldn't fire him. Three years of sitting by his bed when he was sick, wiping his forehead while he swore he loved me. Three years of protecting Tyla from our dad's terrible temper, giving him my own money, taking care of him.

I had given them everything. And here they were, laughing at me while they threw my life in the trash.

Something inside me quietly snapped off.

The love I felt for Matthew was gone. Just like that, I couldn't even remember what it felt like. The pain turned into a cold, hard anger.

My scent, which was usually like a gentle rain, suddenly turned cold and sharp. The air in the hallway felt like it dropped ten degrees as a bitter, heavy storm smell poured off my skin.

Inside the room, Matthew froze. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. "Wait... what is that—"

Before the smell could reach them, I reached into my coat.

My hands weren't shaking. I pulled out a small spray bottle of heavy scent-blocker. I popped the cap and sprayed it over my neck, my wrists, and my suit until my rain smell was completely gone.

I became completely invisible to their senses.

I didn't knock on the door. I didn't give Matthew a chance to lie, and I wasn't going to let Tyla see me cry. They didn't deserve a single tear from me.

I took the velvet watch box from my pocket and set it down quietly on the small table right outside their door.

Then, taking my time, I unclasped the heavy diamond bracelet Matthew had locked onto my wrist three hours ago. I laid it flat on the wood, right next to the box.

I fixed my sleeves. I straightened my jacket. I brushed my hair back.

And I turned around.

I walked down that long hallway with my head held high. My shoes didn't make a sound on the carpet.

Down in the ballroom, the music was loud and cheerful. People turned as I walked down the grand stairs, whispering about how nice I looked and how lucky Matthew was.

"Soren, sweetie!" Mrs. Vance—Matthew’s mother—called out, waving from the drink table. "Where is Matthew? Everyone is waiting for the toast!"

I stopped at the bottom step. I looked right at her and gave her a bright, perfect smile.

"He was busy upstairs with Tyla, Mrs. Vance," I said, my voice smooth and clear. "They are taking care of some... private business. Please, don't let them stop the party. Enjoy your night."

She blinked, a little confused, but smiled back. "Oh, you're always so helpful, dear."

"Always," I whispered.

I didn't get my coat. I didn't call my driver. I walked right past the food tables, past the front doors, and out into the cold night air.

When I reached the front gate, I waved down a yellow taxi. I opened the door, slid into the back seat, and pulled the door shut, blocking out the sound of the party forever.

"Where are we going?" the driver asked, looking at my expensive white suit in the mirror.

I looked out the window as the rain started to fall against the glass. The big house was still lit up on the hill, blaring its music, totally unaware that in a few minutes, someone was going to go upstairs and find that empty bracelet on the table.

"Downtown," I said, my voice cold and firm. "Take me to the club on 4th Street."

The driver looked surprised. "Elysium? Normal people don't go there, man. That place is full of dangerous Alphas."

I leaned my head back against the seat, a slow smile touching my lips for the very first time.

"Good," I whispered. "That's exactly where I want to be."