Chapter 6 Grandfather who?
884 Words
(Almira’s POV)
How could this happen? I just saw him last week, and now he’s getting married?
He acts like nothing ever happened between us. Like we didn't share that night. Or is it just one of hundreds of nights he spent with another woman? Nothing special. Just pure lust and s*x.
“Ma’am?" the receptionist calls, breaking my trance.
I ignored her, and took a shaky step back, my gaze glued to the screen.
Rachelle Black. Of course. She’s famous—beautiful, poised, a Beta from one of the most powerful Alpha in the region. Everything I’m not.
I’m just a lowlife Omega whom he conveniently found attractive when he was horny from the alcohol.
I feel sick.
So, this is what he really thinks of me?
A meaningless fling. Someone so insignificant he could forget me and move on in the blink of an eye.
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the building. My steps are quick and uneven, my heart pounding in my chest, but that didn't stop me from forcing myself to stay as far away from that building.
I clutched my bag like it’s the only thing holding me together.
I paused, glancing back at the building for the last time. I wiped the tears that were falling uncontrollably from my eyes. “I swear to the Moon Goddess…” I said under my breath. “Lysander Hitwell will never know about this baby. And if he tries to enter our lives… I’ll kill him.”
I clenched my jaw, turning my back against them.
I head straight to the road, mindlessly walking through the traffic.
*Beep! Beep! Beep!*
My heart was still racing from what I just saw inside the building when a yellow taxi stopped in front of me. I scanned my eyes to the cars honking at me. When the taxi finally pulled up, I took the chance to throw myself into the backseat, slamming the door behind me.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
I gave him my address.
As we pulled into traffic, the weight of everything crashed over me. I tried to hold it in, but tears started streaming down my face. Quiet sobs racked my body. I immediately dry my face using the back of my hand. Crying in a public car is the last thing I want to happen right now.
I felt the driver’s eyes on me through the rearview mirror.
"You okay back there?" he asked, his tone awkward but concerned.
I quickly wiped my cheeks with my sleeve and forced myself to sit up straighter. "I’m fine," I muttered.
I looked away, focusing on the moving scenery outside.
He didn’t say anything else, but I can feel his gaze flickering toward me every now and then. It makes me want to disappear. I can’t stop crying. I’m not sure if it's the baby’s doing. But isn't it too early for that?
I pressed my forehead against the window, trying to ignore the curious driver in the driver’s seat.
*****
By the time we reached my street, I'd managed to stop crying. But I could still feel the tightness in my chest. Well, it’s nothing a good slap of the truth can fix, right?
I hand the driver a crumpled bill, mumble a "thank you," and step out of the car before he could ask me again.
I heaved a deep sigh as soon as I heard his car drive off.
I was just about to walk into my house when I saw something strange. The sight that greets me makes my stomach drop. There’s a sleek black car parked outside my house, and the gate is wide open. I’m sure that's not my parent's car. We can't even afford an electric bike.
My heart started pounding. Did I forget to lock the door before I leave?
But the car looks pretty expensive for a thief, even our house would be embarrassed to stand close to it.
I rushed up the driveway. There are so many things running inside my head right now. What could it be? A thief? Landlord? Are we getting pulled out? This is the worst day of my f*****g life.
I’m so scared to create noise that my feet are barely touching the ground.
I slowly opened the door.
My stomach drops at the scene that greeted me. There's an older man sitting on our worn-out sofa. His back is straight with his hands resting on the head of a polished cane. He looks powerful, intimidating. He’s wearing a sharp suit and silver hair that makes him seem like he’s stepped straight out of a mafia movie.
Who the hell is he?
I don't know about you, but he doesn't look like a thief.
I took a step back.
I was about to leave when two large men appeared behind me, blocking the doorway.
I gulped.
Who are these people?
"What is this?" I stammered, my voice trembling. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"
I flinched when the old man stood.
"Almira, isn’t it?" he asked.
I swallowed hard.
"Who are you?" I blurted, trying to sound brave even when I’m shaking inside.
He smiled faintly, but there’s no warmth in it. "I’m Reginald Hitwell. Lysander’s grandfather."
Grandfather….
Of who?
- Writer
