Mated to the Alpha CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The pack house had never felt so cold.I stood in the center of the grand hall, surrounded by two hundred wolves who looked at me like I was something they’d scraped off their boots. Their whispers cut through the silence like broken glass.“Omega Clara. Can you believe she thought he’d choose her?”“Pathetic. She should have known her place.”“Look at her. No wolf would ever want her.”I kept my chin up. My hands were trembling, but I refused to let them see me cry. Not again. Not him.Derek Blackwood stood ten feet away from me, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Handsome. Powerful. The future Alpha of the Shadow Fang Pack. And until five minutes ago, my fated mate.The Moon Goddess had given me to him. And he was about to throw me away.“Clara Vance,” Derek announced, his voice echoing through the silent hall. “Before the entire pack, I, Derek Blackwood, reject you as my mate.”The words hit my chest like a physical blow. I staggered back half a step, my wolf whimpering deep in

7:00 AM. I arrived at Blackwood Tower with a stomach full of nerves and a paper cup of coffee that I immediately spilled on my skirt.Perfect start.I dabbed at the stain with a napkin, took a deep breath, and walked inside. The lobby was quieter at this hour—just a few security guards and the cleaning crew. No judgmental receptionists. No wolves staring at me.I took the elevator to the sixtieth floor, stepped out into the black marble hallway, and stopped.My desk was there. Right outside Alistair Blackwood's office. A sleek glass surface, a computer, a phone, and a single orchid in a white pot.And on the keyboard, a sticky note:"Coffee. Black. No sugar. My office. 7:15. Don't be late. —A.B."I glanced at my watch. 7:03.I had twelve minutes.I found the executive kitchen on the same floor—a small room with a espresso machine that cost more than my first car. I figured out how to use it, poured a cup of black coffee, and carried it to his office door.7:12.I knocked."Come in."H

I didn't sleep.I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the kiss over and over. The heat of his mouth. The desperation in his hands. The way he had said "Because I can't" like it was a confession and a curse all at once.At 5:00 AM, I gave up on sleep.I showered. I dressed in one of my new outfits—a gray pencil skirt, a white silk blouse, the black heels that didn't pinch. I looked professional. Polished. Like a woman who hadn't been kissed senseless by her billionaire boss twelve hours ago.The lie looked good on me.I arrived at Blackwood Tower at 6:45 AM. The lobby was empty except for the night security guard, who nodded at me as I walked past.The elevator ride to the sixtieth floor felt endless.When the doors opened, I saw that Alistair's office door was already closed. A sliver of light glowed beneath it.He was here. Early. Just like me.I sat at my desk, turned on my computer, and stared at the screen without seeing it. The orchid on my desk seemed to mock me. Look

Monday morning arrived like a storm.I had barely slept. Lydia's text replayed in my head on a loop: "I know what he did to Elena. And I know what you are." What did she mean by what I am? I was a rejected Omega. Nothing more. Nothing less.I dressed carefully—the navy sheath dress, the heels that didn't pinch, the gold necklace Alistair had given me at the gala. I stared at my reflection and made a decision.I will not be afraid.When I arrived at Blackwood Tower, Alistair was already in his office. I made his coffee—black, no sugar—and knocked."Come in."He stood by the window, his back to me. He wore a charcoal suit, perfectly pressed, his hair combed back. He looked every inch the billionaire CEO.But when he turned, his eyes were tired."You didn't sleep," I said."Neither did you.""Lydia texted me. Saturday night."His jaw tightened. "What did she say?"I handed him the coffee and recited the message from memory. "Enjoying your evening, cousin? Don't get too comfortable. I kno

The old woman's farmhouse smelled of rosemary and something older.Woodsmoke. Candle wax. The faint, sweet rot of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling beams. Morwen led us inside without another word, her bare feet silent on the worn floorboards.The interior was larger than it appeared from outside. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, casting dancing shadows on walls lined with jars. Each jar held something strange: dried roots, animal teeth, liquids that glowed faintly in the dark.Alistair stayed close to me, his hand on my lower back. His eyes never stopped moving, cataloging every exit, every potential threat."Sit," Morwen said, gesturing to a wooden table scarred by years of use. "You didn't come all this way to stand."We sat.The old woman moved to the hearth and stirred something in a black iron pot. The smell made my stomach turn—sweet and acrid at the same time, like burning sugar and rotting meat."You have questions," she said without turning around. "About your mother. A