All Chapters of Rejected by my cursed alpha mate: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The moment we stepped into the carnival, something inside me lit up.Not softly.Not cautiously.It burst.“This is insane!” I gasped, my eyes darting everywhere at once, trying—and failing—to take it all in.Lights draped across stalls like constellations brought down to earth. The giant wheel turned slowly in the distance, glowing like something out of a dream. Music pulsed through the air—loud, alive, unapologetic. Food stalls sizzled and steamed, kids ran wild with laughter, couples leaned into each other like the world had paused just for them.And me?I was practically bouncing.“Oh my God—look there—no wait, THERE—Clair, there’s a puppet show, and games, and—oh my God is that tarot reading?”I pointed in three different directions at once, nearly spinning in place.Clair just stood there for a second, watching me.Really watching me.Then she crossed her arms slowly, one eyebrow lifting.“SOMEONE is really excited.”I turned to her with zero shame.“Of course I am!” I said, gra

I don’t realise when I stop walking.Or when the noise of the carnival fades—not because it quiets, but because something else begins to speak louder.The stall stands apart.Not abandoned, not hidden—just… untouched by the chaos around it.Amber lanterns sway gently from carved wooden beams, their light softened through thin muslin cloth, casting shadows that seem to move even when nothing does. Strings of dried herbs hang in careful clusters—lavender, sage, night-blooming petals I cannot name—each releasing a faint, grounding scent into the air.Small glass vials line the shelves, filled with crushed pigments, oils, and powders that shimmer faintly under the dim glow. At the centre rests a low table, its wood darkened with age, its surface etched with symbols so fine they almost escape the eye—until they don’t.And beside it—a gilded cage.Within, a parrot sits unnervingly still.Watching.Not restless.Not trapped.Aware.Tarot readers, I know, are rarely ordinary. Most are born o

My skin still hummed where his arms had wrapped around me.Even after he loosened his hold, the warmth lingered—like a brand I could not see but felt everywhere.A sharp, deliberate sound cut through it.Jayden cleared his throat.The moment snapped.I turned slightly, my breath still uneven, to find him standing a few feet away, looking anywhere but at us. His posture was stiff, his expression carefully neutral—but there was something else there too. Discomfort. Awareness. Restraint.“We should probably leave,” he said, his voice carrying an awkward weight that didn’t belong to him.I swallowed, nodding faintly.But he did not let go.The hand still cupping my face remained there, firm, unyielding. His gaze didn’t shift—not to Jayden, not to the chaos still unfolding around us. It stayed locked on me, as though everything else had ceased to exist.My heart stumbled.I placed my palm against his chest—hesitant, almost unsure—and pushed, just a little.He didn’t move.Instead, without

The ride back was quieter than it should have been.Not silent—no, the hum of the engine filled the space, tyres gliding over familiar pack roads—but there was something unspoken sitting between the three of us. Something heavy. Something that had followed us from the chaos of the carnival and refused to leave.I sat in the backseat, my fingers still faintly trembling despite how tightly I tried to lace them together in my lap. Clair sat beside me, unusually subdued, her earlier lightness replaced by a thoughtful stillness. Up front, Jayden drove, his posture rigid, shoulders squared as though he carried the weight of more than just the steering wheel.My phone buzzed.The sound cut through the quiet like a thread snapping.I blinked, startled, before fumbling to pull it out of my bag. The moment I saw the name flashing on the screen, something inside me eased.“Tess,” I breathed, answering immediately. “Hey—”“How are you?!” she burst out, her voice loud, rushed, and brimming with wo

The screen flickered to life.And with it—Everything began to fall apart.Nicole moved with quiet confidence, inserting the pen drive into the system as though she had done this a hundred times before. The projection shifted, replacing the campaign comparison with a new set of files.Emails.Documents.Transaction logs.My name.Everywhere.My breath hitched.“No…” I whispered under my breath, my eyes scanning the screen in disbelief.“This,” Nicole began, her tone calm—too calm—“is a series of email exchanges between Ms. Hale and an external contact—Mr. Ron.”She clicked.An email expanded.My email ID.My name.A message thread discussing campaign structure.My campaign structure.My stomach dropped.Another click.Bank transaction records.“Substantial payments,” Nicole continued, “transferred to Ms. Hale’s account over the past week.”The room shifted.Shock rippled through the board like a wave.I couldn’t breathe.“This is clearly tampered!” Jared’s voice cut through, sharp, im