Knotting The Enemy Alphas

Vera

I could forgive the cheating. It was the murder that felt excessive.

Affairs happen. People fall out of love. Hearts break every day. There are lawyers, divorce papers, and expensive therapy sessions for things like that. Most reasonable people don't solve marital problems by throwing their wives off forty-story buildings. But then again, my husband had never been particularly reasonable.

The funny thing is, if someone had asked me that morning whether my marriage was happy, I would have said yes without hesitation. Not because it was perfect—perfect marriages didn't exist. But because I loved him. And when you love someone long enough, you ignore all the red flags.

Looking back, I can pinpoint a hundred moments when I should have known. The warning signs weren't hidden. I simply trusted the wrong people.

The rain had started sometime that afternoon, drumming steadily against the windows of our penthouse while I stood in front of the bedroom mirror fastening a pair of diamond earrings.

Behind me, Ethan emerged from the dressing room, adjusting the cuffs of his black suit jacket. For a moment, our eyes met through the reflection and a smile touched his lips. The kind that still made my heart skip despite six years of marriage.

"You look beautiful," he said.

I laughed softly. "You're my husband. You're legally obligated to say that."

"I don't think that's how marriage works."

"Then why did I sign all those papers?" I teased, turning slightly to face him.

He chuckled and crossed the room. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around me as he settled his hands on my waist from behind—warm, comforting, and so achingly familiar.

I leaned back against him without hesitation, without fear, without the slightest idea that this would be one of the last times he'd ever hold me.

"Are you nervous about tonight?" he asked, his voice low against my ear.

"A little."

"Don't be." His lips brushed my temple in that gentle way that always made me feel safe. "You always steal the room."

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "You say that every year."

"Because it's true every year."

God, the worst part about betrayal isn't the lying. It's remembering how sincere they sounded while doing it.

The charity gala was held at the Grand Meridian Hotel, one of the tallest buildings in Manhattan.

By the time we arrived, the rain had transformed the city into a sea of shimmering lights. Yellow taxis crawled through wet streets below while camera flashes burst across the entrance. Ethan offered me his arm, and I took it. Together, we climbed the marble steps like the perfect couple everyone thought we were.

The ballroom occupied the entire top floor. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead while live music drifted through the room.

Waiters moved between clusters of guests carrying silver trays filled with champagne. People greeted us the moment we entered—investors, politicians, socialites. Everyone wanted a moment of Ethan Carter. And why wouldn't they? He was charming, confident.

I spent the first hour smiling until my cheeks hurt, the second discussing charity projects, and the third trying unsuccessfully to escape conversations about real estate and stock markets. By ten o'clock, I needed a break. I accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server and stepped away from the crowd.

The ballroom stretched endlessly before me, music floating through the air and laughter echoing from every direction. I searched for Ethan automatically, that six-year habit kicking in. But he wasn't near the bar, or the dance floor, or the stage. A small crease formed between my brows.

I pulled out my phone. No messages. Not unusual though. Still, something felt off.

Before I could think further, my phone vibrated with an incoming text from an unknown number. I frowned and opened it. A photograph filled the screen.

For several seconds, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. The image was slightly blurry, clearly taken from a distance, but not blurry enough.

I recognized Ethan immediately. I recognized my stepsister Vanessa even faster. His hand was tangled in her hair with her mouth pressed against his. Neither of them looked surprised. Neither of them looked guilty. They looked comfortably intentional and intimate—like people who had kissed each other a hundred times before.

The champagne glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against the marble floor. Several nearby guests turned toward the sound, but I barely noticed.

My entire world had narrowed to the photograph glowing on my screen. Another message appeared right after it. [Room 4018] That was all it said. No explanation. Just a room number.

The blood drained from my face. Someone nearby asked if I was okay, but I couldn't answer. Suddenly every strange moment from the past year came rushing back—the canceled dinners, the secret smiles, the late-night business trips, the excuses.

Dear God, I had been blind. My hand tightened around the phone. Part of me wanted to leave, to walk out of the hotel and never look back. But another part—the part still desperately hoping there was some explanation needed to know.

I turned toward the elevators. Each step felt heavier than the last. The ride to the fortieth floor lasted less than a minute but felt like an eternity as the doors slid open onto a long hallway that stretched before me.

Room 4018 waited at the far end. I could hear my own heartbeat by the time I reached it. The door wasn't fully closed and a sliver of warm light spilled into the corridor.

I stopped, my hand hovering over the handle. One push. That was all it would take. One push and my life would split into a before and an after. Slowly, I pushed the door open and immediately wished I hadn't.

Because there they were, exactly as the photograph had promised. Ethan and Vanessa wrapped around each other on the couch, his mouth on hers, her fingers buried in his hair.

Neither of them noticed me at first. And for one terrible, unbearable moment, I simply stood there and watched. Watched the man I loved kiss someone else. Watched my own stepsister smile against his mouth. I watched six years of marriage die right in front of me.

Then the door clicked softly against the wall. Both of them looked up and the room fell silent.

Vanessa's face drained of color. But Ethan... Ethan didn't look surprised at all. He looked relieved. And that terrified me far more than the affair ever could. Because it was the expression of a man who had been waiting for this moment. A man whose plans were finally falling into place.

And standing there in the doorway, staring into his calm, unreadable eyes, I suddenly realized something was very, very wrong.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn't come” He said as he stood up. “Whoever sent you that message saved me a difficult conversation. Now we don't have to keep pretending Vera"