After My Alpha Took My Daughter to His Mistress

A week passed in a blur of legal documents and therapy sessions. The Bradley family lawyer, a shark in an expensive suit named Marcus Chen, had filed charges against Jackson that ranged from fraud to assault. Each morning brought new paperwork, each afternoon new evidence of Jackson's deception.

I sat in my father's study, watching as he reviewed the latest filings. The morning light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden patterns across the mahogany desk.

"He's desperate," my father said, looking up from a document. "His pack is distancing themselves from him. The Northern Ridge Alpha Council is considering exile."

I nodded, feeling a strange emptiness where my rage had been. "He's losing everything."

"Except his delusions." Elliot entered with a tablet in hand. "He's been trying to contact you through the mate bond."

My stomach clenched. The mate bond—that sacred connection that had once felt like love but now resembled shackles.

"I can feel him," I admitted, pressing a hand to my temple. "Whispering. Promising. Claiming Alexia bewitched him."

My father's expression darkened. "You don't have to listen."

"I know." I closed my eyes, focusing on the techniques Dr. Martinez had taught me. *Imagine a wall. Build it brick by brick.*

I'd never been able to block Jackson before. His voice had always penetrated my defenses, manipulating my emotions. But now, surrounded by my family's strength, something shifted inside me.

*Brick by brick.*

"Stop," I whispered, not to my father but to the voice in my head.

For the first time in years, Jackson's mental intrusion faltered. I felt his surprise, then his anger—then pain as I built my wall higher.

*You can't block me,* he snarled. *I'm your Alpha.*

"No," I said aloud, my eyes flashing gold as my wolf stirred within me. "You're nothing."

---

The private jet touched down at Teterboro Airport just after noon. I stood on the tarmac beside Elliot, shielding my eyes from the sun as the stairs lowered.

"Hattie!" I called, my heart leaping as my daughter appeared in the doorway.

She looked thinner than I remembered, her artist's eyes taking in everything with characteristic intensity. The Bradley chauffeur took her luggage as she descended the stairs, her expression a mixture of confusion and wariness.

"Mom?" She hugged me tightly, then pulled back. "What's going on? Why am I suddenly flying in private jets?"

Elliot stepped forward, his smile gentle. "Hi, Hattie. It's been too long."

"You're Uncle Elliot?" Her eyes widened as she took in his tailored suit and the fleet of black SUVs waiting nearby. "But... how?"

The ride to the city passed in a blur of explanations and revelations. As our limousine glided through Manhattan traffic, I watched Hattie's face change from confusion to understanding to hurt.

"So," she said finally, her voice small but steady, "Dad has another family?"

I reached for her hand. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

She looked out the window at the passing skyscrapers. "I always knew something was wrong."

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked.

"His missed birthdays. The empty promises." Hattie's voice hardened with each word. "The way he'd forget things that mattered to me but always had time for 'business trips.'"

My heart broke hearing her catalog Jackson's neglect so matter-of-factly.

"I want nothing to do with him," she declared, her chin lifting with the same determination I'd seen in my father's eyes. "Nothing."

---

"Mrs. Scott will agree to a swift divorce," Jackson's lawyer said, his voice oily with false confidence. "In exchange, Mr. Scott requires a settlement of five million dollars and custody of Hattie."

The conference room fell silent. Through the one-way glass, I could see Jackson pacing in the next room, his Alpha aura flaring erratically—a sign of his deteriorating control.

"Custody?" My father's voice was deadly quiet.

"He believes Hattie's trust fund should remain under his control," the lawyer continued.

I stood slowly, feeling my family's eyes on me. "I'd like to speak with him."

"Adelaide—" my father began.

"It's okay," I assured him. "I need to do this."

Jackson was brought into the room, his hands cuffed before him. When he saw me, his eyes lit with desperate hope.

"Adele," he growled, his Alpha tone washing over me like a wave meant to drown. "You're making a mistake."

I felt my wolf rise within me, golden eyes flashing as she pushed against my human form. For the first time, I didn't fight her.

"Your mistake," I said coldly, "was thinking you could break me."

His growl deepened, a threat that once would have cowered me. Now it merely confirmed what I already knew: he had nothing left.

"You will get nothing," I continued, my voice steady. "No money. No custody. No future."

His face contorted with rage and disbelief. "You can't do this to me!"

"I already have." I turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Oh, and Jackson? Prison suits you better than freedom ever did."

As I walked away, I heard him call after me—not with threats now, but with the desperate plea of a man who finally understood he had lost everything that mattered.