Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 235: _ The Good News

Chapter 235: _ The Good News

I was still blinking like a stunned owl when Mother leaned over and patted my hand in that maddeningly serene way only she could pull off.

"It’s not so far-fetched, querido," she said, as if we were discussing the weather and not my complete social assassination. "Better a sweet, docile sister than a rabid wolf in Luna’s clothing."

Rabid wolf. God, I loved my mother.

Dragging in a breath that felt like it scraped against my ribs, I scrubbed both hands down my face and groaned into my palms. "Look, Mamá," I said, voice muffled and probably more desperate than I intended, "I have no other plan. No secret strategy, and no backup escape hatch. I’m not interested in marrying anyone else. I’m marrying María José."

I dropped my hands and met her gaze dead-on. "I don’t care what people say. Not the pack, not Dad, not the entire freaking Council of Elders. They can all choke on it for all I care."

The words rang out between us in ways that were heavier than I expected. Mother’s expression softened. It was like that of the diplomatic queen that she was, shedding her crown for a moment.

She extended her hand again, cupping my cheek with one hand, her touch cool and gentle. Her diamond rings pressed lightly against my skin sending cold sparks of comfort through me.

"I will stand by you every step of the way, Axel," she said simply. "You have my word."

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Something thick and stupid clogged my throat. I coughed it down before it could humiliate me.

My mamá was a gem. God, I knew she’d get along so well with María José.

"Thanks, Mom," I managed to say, though my voice was a little hoarse.

She smiled that fierce, proud smile again. It was the one that made me feel like I could wrestle a bear and win — and rose gracefully from the bed.

"Get some sleep," she said as she moved toward the door, her robe swishing like a ghost behind her. "You’re going to need your strength."

The door clicked softly shut, leaving me alone with the quiet thrum of my racing thoughts.

I didn’t move for a while. Just sat there, staring at the darkened ceiling like it held answers in the faint cracks.

The scent of María José was still in the room, clinging to the sheets like the world’s sweetest curse.

It took hours... literal hours, before I could convince my twitching, restless body to go through the motions of my night routine.

Brushing my teeth felt like scrubbing barnacles off a sinking ship. Changing into pajamas was a battle between comfort and the smothering weight of a million What-Ifs.

Even washing my face became an existential crisis halfway through.

At some point, I stumbled back to bed and collapsed face-first into the mattress, dragging a pillow over my head like it could muffle reality.

******

When I finally woke the next morning, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains in fat, golden bands.

I lay there for a second, blinking blearily at the ceiling and feeling like I’d been flattened by a semi-truck made of emotional baggage.

Today was the day.

Time to stop sulking and start digging. I needed that evidence real soon.

I threw the covers off, rolled out of bed, and got dressed with more determination than coordination.

Jeans, black T-shirt, leather jacket. I saw them as armor for the chaos to come.

As I shoved my arms through the sleeves, I made a decision so recklessly, stupidly bold it almost made me laugh:

I was going to Don Diego’s villa.

I was going to play the part of the perfect, devoted fiancé.

Smile. Flatter. Pretend I wasn’t planning her social execution.

And if Rosa had skeletons hidden in her very expensive, designer cupboards... I was going to find them.

The drive over was a blur of thudding adrenaline and bad Spanish pop music on the radio. I barely registered the trees flashing past, the potholes rattling my bones and the morning air biting through the open windows.

When Don Diego’s sprawling estate finally came into view in all its gleaming white stone and blood-red roses, I cut the engine and sat there for a moment, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel.

You can do this.

Smile. Play dumb. Dig dirt.

I grabbed a breath so deep it nearly bruised my ribs, then climbed out of the car, hearing the gravel crunching under my boots.

The villa’s front doors were already opening before I could get near it. A butler I recognized, with a face so pinched she looked constipated, bowed stiffly.

"Señor Axel," he said. "Señorita Rosa is expecting you."

Was she now? Did she know I’d visit?

Perfect.

The butler stepped aside with mechanical precision, leaving the doors yawning open like the maw of some marble beast. The villa smelled different. It smelled new.

Cleaner, somehow. Less like cigars and ancient money, more like citrus polish and fresh paint. That wasn’t nothing. Don Diego didn’t just change things. Not unless he was trying to impress or intimidate—someone.

I stepped in and immediately noticed the differences. The marble floors gleamed like they’d been kissed by angels. New rugs stretched down the hall.

The light fixtures above had been upgraded. Even the air felt colder like the whole house had inhaled, and was holding its breath.

The guards who were normally stationed by the front columns or sulking by the stairwell were now neatly posted in more strategic corners, almost like chess pieces.

Something was up. The De La Vegas have been busy.

I made my way down the hallway, boots sinking into the new carpeting, and caught the faint sound of feminine voices. One was loud and overly excited, and the other was sophisticated.

I need not be told before I knew who they belonged to.

As I rounded the corner, the scene exploded like a luxury boutique inside a palace. There were swatches of ivory and blush tulle draped over chairs, spools of pearls and crystals laid out like forbidden snacks, and mirrors on every wall reflecting back five different angles of high-strung femininity.

There goes loud and glittery Camilla? twirling like a deranged ballerina in a wedding dress that looked like it had murdered a flock of doves. She shrieked when she saw me.

"¡Ay, Dios mío!" she gasped, hands flying to her cheeks. "Axel! Go back! You can’t be here—it’s a BAD OMEN to see the bride in her dress before the wedding!"

One of the designers dropped his measuring tape in alarm. The others looked mildly scandalized, like they were watching a scandal unfold on a Spanish telenovela.

I raised my hands in surrender, plastering on the most charming smile in my arsenal. "Ah, but technically, you’re not my bride, are you, Camilla?"

Her mouth fell open because she hadn’t anticipated that.

"Also," I added with a shrug, "I just couldn’t resist seeing how stunning everyone looked today. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world walking into a room full of angels."

Three of the designers blushed. One audibly sighed.

Camilla rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might detach. "Ugh. That’s so unfair. I should call Álvaro and make him come over here too. I want my man to look at me like that."

Before I could roll with that particular awkward punch, Rosa turned toward me. She was seated gracefully on a bench, her posture so perfect it looked sculpted. Her gown wasn’t loud like Camilla’s.

It had no feathers and no frills. It was elegant. Minimalist.

Her lips curved slowly into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Come, Axel," she purred. "Give me a hug."

There was a pause. I think I actually felt my soul crawl sideways.

"Hug," I repeated dumbly, feet gluing themselves to the floor. "Right. Of course."

I crossed the room like a man approaching a dragon. Every step made my brain scream louder. She wanted a hug. She was going to kiss me. Of course, she was.

And if she kissed me, I might have to chew off my own face.

Rosa stood, her hips swaying like she was practicing the fastest way to ride a man. When she reached for me, I pulled her into a light, perfectly balanced embrace.

It was the kind you give an expensive statue you’re not sure is entirely dry.

Her cheek brushed mine. And then...

Nope. She was going to kiss me.

I angled my head expertly at the last second, so her lips grazed the corner of my mouth, not quite landing. "I, uh... I don’t want to wrinkle your dress," I murmured, stepping back like a gentleman and absolute coward.

She blinked once, then let out a soft, indulgent laugh. "Always so thoughtful."

"Wouldn’t dream of messing up perfection," I said smoothly, still recovering from the whiplash of narrowly dodging lip-to-lip contact.

The designers who were clearly enchanted by this tragic passionate display of love, fluttered around us like butterflies on espresso.

"I should probably let you finish up in peace," I said, easing toward the door. "I’ll wait outside."

"Mm. If you must." Rosa’s voice followed me. "But don’t go far, amor. I have good news to share with you when we’re done."

My heart did a gymnastics routine inside my chest.

"Good news?" I repeated.

Her smile deepened. "Something I think you’ll be very pleased to hear."

From the moment I saw the redecorated house, I knew something was up with the De La Vegas. This good news better not be related to me.