All Chapters of The Alpha's Surrogate : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

SIENNA’S POV“Your boss is an asshole,” I muttered as the two men hauled the last of the bags toward the door.They didn’t even flinch. No smirk, no comeback, not even a “yes, ma’am.” Just blank faces, like someone had stripped their souls and left obedience behind. Typical Luther clones.I crossed my arms, watching them disappear through the hallway. “You could at least pretend I’m scary,” I called out, but they were already gone.Silence settled in again, thick and heavy. I could hear my own heartbeat. Somewhere above, the ceiling fan groaned like it was tired of spinning for psychos.I sighed. “Right. Guess it’s just me and the mansion of horrors now.”I glanced at my reflection in one of the huge glass windows—hair messy, shirt half untucked, eyes tired. I looked like someone who’d lost an argument with a billionaire control freak and got dragged into his fortress as consolation.I should’ve stayed in the room. Waited like a good hostage. But patience was never my strong suit.The

SIENNA’S POVThe silence in the mansion was loud enough to hear my own heartbeat. Every tick of the clock dragged like it was daring me to move, to change my mind, to run. But I didn’t.I just stood there by the window, hugging my robe closer. The morning light slanted across the marble floor, catching the faint shimmer of dust in the air. I had been pacing for what felt like hours, my bare feet tracing the same pattern from the window to the chair, then back again.There was a tray of untouched breakfast on the table—cold toast, a cracked boiled egg, and tea gone completely cold. I’d tried to eat earlier, but everything had tasted like metal. My nerves were shot, my mind spinning between guilt, anger, and something I didn’t want to name.Every sound made me flinch. The rustle of the curtains. The creak of the chandelier. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the next room. I couldn’t tell if I was anxious or just preparing for the inevitable.Then I heard it—tires rolling over gravel.

SIENNA’S POVThe door swung open before I could even fix my face.Luther’s expression changed in an instant. The warmth—or whatever tiny piece of it he’d allowed me to see—disappeared. That smooth, unreadable Alpha calm took over. The kind that filled a room before he even said a word.“Cosette,” he said, his tone low, even, the kind that made spines straighten.The woman who stepped in looked like she ran on order and caffeine. Middle-aged, elegant in a sharp navy uniform, her silver hair twisted into a bun so tight I was convinced she used a ruler to measure it every morning. Not a single strand dared to misbehave. Her heels struck the marble floor in quick, precise clicks—each one a statement.“Good day, sir.”She reached out, taking Luther’s hand with both of hers, then leaned down and kissed it—soft, deliberate, practiced. There was reverence in the gesture, sure. But underneath, it dripped with possession.Luther nodded once. “Cosette. Good day.”Then her eyes shifted—and landed

COSSETTE’S POVTwo weeks.That was how long I’d been gone. Two weeks of carefully earned rest — or at least, that’s what everyone thought it was.When Alpha Luther granted me the leave, he’d said it like a command wrapped in courtesy. “Take a break, Cosette. You’ve worked hard.”Worked hard was an understatement. I was the one who kept this mansion running like a heart that never skipped a beat. I managed the schedules, the servants, the security, the events, the protocols — everything. If the Alpha was the head of this pack, I was its spine. Without me, the whole damn thing would collapse under its own pride.So yes, I deserved the break. I took it. But rest? Not exactly. I didn’t know how to rest.The first few days, I tried. I woke up late — for once — let the sunlight touch my face without rushing to prepare the Alpha’s breakfast tray or correct some rookie maid’s mistakes. I went into the city, dressed in silk and tailored blazers, the kind that announced power before I even spok

SIENNA’S POVCosette led me down the hallway like she was escorting me to my execution.The place was too quiet. Every sound — her heels, the rustle of my dress, the faint hum of the lights — felt sharp enough to cut air.The walls were lined with old portraits of men with eyes like frozen knives. Their names were carved in gold under the frames, all carrying that same word: Bloodcrest.Cosette stopped at a heavy wooden door with a silver handle shaped like a wolf’s fang. Without warning, she pushed it open.“After you,” she said, her tone honeyed but her eyes watching me like a hawk.I stepped inside.The room was colder than the hallway. There was no window, only a chandelier of black glass dripping from the ceiling like frozen tears. A long table stood in the center, draped in crimson velvet. On it, a single silver tray gleamed.Cosette motioned for me to sit. “Have a seat, Luna.”Her voice had that same silky poison that made even simple words sound like orders.I sat. The chair w