El Alfa me Rechazó, el Rey Alfa me Reclamó

ETHAN WILDER

I sat with my back pressed against the wall, knees folded to my chest as I wrapped my arms around my trembling frame. If anything, I was exhausted—drained and scrawny.

Today was the day.

The day I would step out of here and finally be with the one I truly desired.

In the early hours of the morning, I had been transferred out of the prison cell I shared with six others and isolated in this one for processing. Waiting to be released, my heart wouldn’t stop thumping frantically against my ribs. After four years of taking the fall for a crime I didn’t commit, I was finally walking out.

I expected to see Sarah, my wife, in her wedding dress, ready to finish the vows we had started before I was taken away to serve time.

My ears soon picked up the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Ethan Wilder?” a gruff voice called out.

I scrambled to my feet, dusting off my jumpsuit as I walked closer to the prison gates. “That’s me,” I confirmed.

“Time to go home,” the officer pronounced.

My lips spread into a small smile. “Thank you, officer.”

He opened the gates and removed the handcuffs. I trailed behind him, allowing him to lead me past these suffocating walls.

“You have a visitor. She’s waiting in the visitor’s area.”

I nodded, a beam of pride spreading across my chest. “It’s definitely my wife.”

I headed for the visitor’s room, bursting inside with an excitement too profound to hold back. I finally got to see her after four years. She looked even more beautiful than the last time I saw her, but as she looked in my direction, her voice was cold.

“Come sit, Ethan. I have something to say.”

My anxiety doubled when I saw how hard her face was set. There were no cheers, no congratulations, and no hugs to celebrate my freedom. I could swear I saw contempt and disdain lining her expression as she slowly scrutinized me.

She was supposed to be here in her wedding dress, as we had agreed years ago, not an all-black suit. She looked nothing like the bride I had expected.

“Sarah,” I croaked.

She slid a thick manila envelope across the metal table. “Sign them, Ethan.”

I blinked, my voice rasping from disuse. “Sarah? What is this? Where’s the dress? I thought we were going straight to the chapel.”

“The chapel?” She let out a mirthless laugh that did nothing to make me feel better. “Don’t be pathetic. These are divorce papers. I need you to sign them before the gates even open for you.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I hoped I had heard her wrong. “I don't understand. What did you say?”

“These are divorce papers. Sign them,” she said, spelling out every word.

“No. This is wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” I stammered, my mind racing to find an excuse for her. “Is someone threatening you? Is it your brother’s creditors again? Sarah, tell me who is forcing you to do this.”

“No one is forcing me, you idiot,” she said icily. “I’m doing this because I’m a CEO worth fifty million dollars now. I’ve climbed to the top of Boston’s elite. Do you honestly think a woman in my position is going to be tethered to a common convict? You’re a stain on my reputation, Ethan. I cannot risk it.”

I felt the blow of every word she delivered. I leaned back in the plastic chair, nervously clasping my hands together beneath the table.

“A stain on your reputation? Sarah, four years ago, your family was drowning. I worked three jobs to keep your father’s business afloat. I gave you everything so you could build that company. I went to prison so you wouldn't have to.”

“And that was your choice,” she countered, her lip curling into a sneer. “You decided to cling to love. I decided to use people for my gain.”

She pulled out her phone and flicked through a gallery, turning the screen toward me. It was a photo of her at a gala, draped over the arm of another man in a fine tuxedo. My breath caught in my throat. I recognized him—Julian Vane, the heir to the Vane empire. She looked happy in his arms, like it was exactly where she belonged.

They looked like a power couple. And me? I saw my reflection on the phone screen: disheveled, hollowed out, and dressed in a faded orange jumpsuit.

“Why would I choose a rapist over a man like Julian?” she asked mockingly.

My blood turned cold at the accusation. “You know I’m not that! You know I took the blame for your brother so he wouldn’t go down for that assault! You begged me on your knees!”

Sarah leaned in close, the mockery still plastered on her face. “Actually, Ethan... we planned it that way. I’d already met Julian back then. I knew I needed you out of the picture, but I needed your money and all that sacrifice you were willing to make first. Taking the fall wasn't you being a hero—it was you being a tool.” She sighed, shaking her head in mock pity. “It’s over for you, Ethan.”

My heart beat so frantically against my ribs I thought they would explode. I thought of the last four years I had spent in this hellhole. I thought of the Old Man I’d shared a cell with. He had taught me everything: martial arts, global finance, and what true power really meant.

The Old Man had tried to hand me a one-of-a-kind ring—the Phoenix Ring. I had blatantly refused it, wanting nothing more than a simple life with my wife and future kids.

Now, looking across the table at the wicked smile she wore, one thing occurred to me: The woman I loved never existed.