I Kept the Alpha’s Secret Heir

I stood at the edge of the kitchen, arms elbow-deep in sudsy water as I scrubbed a stubborn dish. The clinking of glass and the hum of chatter floated through the air as the maids flitted about, adding final touches to the extravagant party. Cecelia’s birthday. Dean had spared no expense—gold-trimmed tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and a cake so large it could probably feed a small village.

He treated her like royalty, like she was the goddess this entire territory had been waiting for. His mate, me? I was just another servant in the background, invisible.

I refused to let it bother me. Not when Nathan and I had our plan brewing. Every slight, every insult would soon be avenged.

"Still slaving away, Hannah?" Cecelia’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a knife.

I turned to find her leaning casually against the doorway, her red silk dress hugging her curves. She looked every bit the part of the spoiled princess, her lips curling in a smirk that made my skin crawl.

"Such a good sister," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Helping out with my party. Truly selfless."

I ignored her, dunking another plate into the water. She thrived on getting under my skin.

But then she took it a step further. "Though I can’t say I blame Dean for treating me better than you," she added, her voice lowering. "I mean, look at you—plain, pathetic, and desperate."

I froze, my hands tightening around the sponge. The anger bubbled up before I could shove it down. I spun around, fixing her with a glare.

"At least I’m not a spoiled brat who needs constant attention to feel important," I shot back, my voice calm but laced with venom.

Her smirk faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. Before she could retort, Dean appeared, his tall frame cutting between us like a wall.

"Hannah," he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "Don’t make a scene."

My blood boiled, but I forced a tight smile. "Maybe you should watch over your dog," I said, my voice sweet and cutting. "She’s the one barking, after all."

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. Cecelia let out a huff and stormed away, her heels clicking against the polished floor. I grabbed a towel and wiped my hands, barely sparing him a glance before heading upstairs.

Nathan stood by the window at the far end of the hallway, his gaze fixed on the crowd below. Cecelia and Dean were easy to spot in the sea of people, their laughter and flirtation loud even from here.

The tension in Nathan’s posture was palpable, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Still staring at them?" I said softly as I approached.

He turned, his expression dark. "It’s hard not to."

I nodded, understanding all too well. "Come on," I said, motioning toward my room. "Let’s talk."

Once inside, I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. Nathan paced the small space, his agitation rolling off him in waves.

"I want to expose them," I said, my voice firm.

Nathan stopped pacing and turned to me, his brow furrowed. "Now?"

I hesitated, the weight of our father’s declining health pressing on me. "No," I admitted, sighing. "It’s not the right time. Not with your Dad so sick. It would only stress him out."

Nathan’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded reluctantly. "You’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch them parade around like this."

His tone was bitter, and when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, my heart sank.

"I was going to propose to her tonight," he said, opening the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring. "For her 23rd birthday."

The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. Nathan’s heartbreak was raw and palpable, and it made my own pain feel insignificant in comparison.

"I’m sorry," I said softly, stepping closer. "But maybe this is a sign that she wasn’t meant for you. You deserve someone better, Nathan. Someone who won’t betray you."

He gave me a small, sad smile. "You’re kind, Hannah. Even when you’re hurting, you’re thinking of others."

His gaze lingered on me, and suddenly the air between us shifted. It was subtle at first—a strange, electric tension that made my pulse quicken.

"Nathan…" I started, unsure of what I was feeling.

But before I could finish, there was a sharp knock at the door.

We both froze, and when the door swung open, Dean stood there, his expression dark and unreadable.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The room fell into a tense silence. My heart pounded as I met Dean’s gaze, his eyes flicking between me and Nathan. I knew that look. He wasn’t just suspicious—he was furious.

And I like to see the jealousy in his eyes.