Fated to the Alpha Stepbrother

1

Isabella 

“Can’t you do anything right, you insolent, stupid woman!” Derek roared and before I could bat an eye his hand slapped away the tray in my hand. 

I flinched as the slightly burnt lasagna arced through the air, alongside the glass of orange juice and the cutlery. They crashed to the ground breaking and making a red mess on the brown carpet.

He frowned, giving me a disappointed look that sent my BP through the roof. 

Immediately, I dropped to my knees, a sharp pain hitting me then it dawned on me I landed on broken glass.

I ignored the pain and clasped my hand together as if in prayer. “Please forgive me,” I cried out, mostly from the throb in my knees. “I was getting the laundry that’s why it got burnt–

“Spare me your excuses!” He scoffed, sliding his wheelchair away as if my touch revolted him. “Getting married to you was the worst decision of my life.”

His words sent an arrow straight to my broken heart.

You’d think after hearing those words time and time again they would have no effect but that wasn’t true.

They still hurt just like the first time he said them.

It hadn’t always been like this. I reminded myself.

The first year I was married to Derek had felt like a fevered dream I never wanted to wake from. The pack loved us. They loved him—strong, commanding, proud—and they respected me. We were a high rank pack, omegas handled the chores, and my biggest worry had been whether the flowers in the hall would bloom in time for the moon ball. 

Derek used to look at me like I was something precious, something he’d fought a war to win.

It was all ripped away when the accident happened.

We were on our way to a festival when the back tire of the SUV exploded. The car tumbled in the air before crashing on the road.

After that it was mostly a blur because I fell unconscious but when we were at the hospital they reported Derek had struggled to push me out but then the roof crushed his legs.

He could have escaped if he left me behind but he didn't.

I was alive because of him. I sustained minor injuries but he was paralyzed for life.

He survived, but in some way it felt like he died that night.

I could hardly recognize him anymore. He became bitter, ruthless, and distant.

But this man had saved me. I owed him my life.

So, I clung to the version of him that existed before the accident. I couldn’t blame him for being bitter either.

An Alpha without his legs was looked down on. He couldn’t lead, defend himself let alone defend a pack. Powerful betas started leaving, allies left and I believe that, out of pity, his enemies refused to attack and subdue him. 

Without their support, the pack weakened. Without the pack, the money disappeared. And somehow, in all of it, the blame found its way to me.

Since I was the one who insisted we went out to a meeting that fateful night, I was trying to be supportive and push him to surpass his limits. 

I never wanted any of this to happen but he blamed me like I planned it all.

He called me cursed and claimed I was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

I wanted to prove him wrong, show him we could still make it. Show him I wasn’t the curse he believed me to be.

So I took over everything. The accounts. The house. The pack. Doing the best I could to keep what little we had from falling apart. I told myself this was what love looked like when things went wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again, as I reached for the broken plate on the floor. My hands shook as I gathered broken shards of the plate. “I’ll prepare something else right away. I can—”

“Sorry?” he snapped. “That’s all you ever are. Sorry and useless.” His voice rose. “You can’t do anything right, Isabella.”

I froze, my fingers curling around a piece of ceramic. The edge bit into my skin, but I barely felt it.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes burning into me. “You were bad luck from the start. I should have known the moment I married you. Everything I touched turned to ash after you walked into my life.”

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Please, show mercy,” I whispered. “I’ll make something new. I won’t let it burn this time. I promise.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he jeered. “Just looking at you ruined it.”

I bowed my head in shame, feeling my heart cave in. “Genuinely all I want is to make you happy,” I replied quietly. “I wish you didn't see me as your enemy.”

I blinked back tears as I picked up the tray, placing the broken shards on top.

He let out a sigh and I could hear his wheel move. Surprisingly, his hand reached out and held my bleeding palm.

My heart skipped a beat realizing he hadn't touched me delicately since the accident two years ago.

Slowly, I looked up at him, his brown eyes hollow, his expression unreadable.

“Do you really want to make me happy?” He said quietly, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. My heart swelled in hope. “There is nothing else I want in this world.”

“Good, remember that,” he said softly, his palm cupping my cheeks before he wheeled back. “Get ready. We’re going out.”

I blinked surprise slipping through. “Out?”

He hated being seen like this in public. 

“Where are we going?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed, the warmth there vanished in thin air. “It’s time for you to be useful.”

The words landed heavy. “What does that mean?” I asked, my heart beginning to race.

His hand slammed down on the armrest. “Don’t question me.” He snapped. “You want to make me happy just do what you’re told.”

I flinched. “Yes,” I said quickly. “Of course.”

I bowed low and gathered the remaining pieces of the plate, wiping the floor clean where food had splattered. My wounded hand and knees throbbed with every motion, but I didn’t pause. I didn’t dare.

As I finished cleaning, my thoughts spiraled. Going out meant enduring his anger afterward, when the world reminded him of everything he’d lost.

I stood slowly, keeping my gaze down. “I’ll go get ready,” I said.

“Today is really important, make sure you clean up nicely, you might be useless but you are still pretty.”

What did that mean? I wondered but I couldn't question him so instead I bowed then turned toward the door, my stomach twisted, a bad feeling settling deep as I left the room.