The Alpha's Dirty Secret

Water blasted against the porcelain tiles in the master bathroom.

I stared at the white hotel keycard resting on the plush rug. The bright pink wax seal mocked me. A cursive 'C'.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I aimed the camera lens at the plastic card, making sure the wax seal filled the frame. I snapped three photos. I left the card exactly where it had fallen, right next to his discarded jacket sleeve.

I dialed Maya. She answered on the first ring.

"Answer the phone, Maya," I muttered, pacing a tight line near the bed.

"Lily? Why are you calling so late? Did he come home?"

"He is in the shower," I said. My voice shook. "He smells like cheap vanilla perfume. And a hotel keycard fell out of his suit."

"Are you kidding me?" Maya asked, her tone spiking. "A keycard? From where?"

"I do not know. It has a pink wax seal with a 'C' on it."

"Leave. Get out of that house right now."

"I cannot just leave. I need leverage."

"Leverage? Lily, he is cheating on you. That is the leverage."

"Not in this pack," I said bitterly. "The elders will demand proof. They will say I am being paranoid. I need something real."

I stopped pacing and scanned the room. My eyes landed on the velvet armchair in the corner. Kael's iPad rested on the seat cushion. The screen glowed bright against the dark fabric. He never left his devices unlocked.

"Maya, hold on," I said, wedging my phone between my ear and shoulder. "His tablet is open."

"Lily, do not snoop. If he catches you, he will flip."

"He lied about the northern border contracts. I need to know what else he lied about."

I picked up the heavy metal tablet. My thumbs hovered over the screen. The brightness stung my eyes in the dim room. I tapped the banking application. It bypassed the security prompt, loading straight into the pack's master ledger.

"What do you see?" Maya asked.

"The master accounts. Everything looks normal at first glance. The daily operating expenses, the payroll for the border guards." I scrolled down, my finger dragging across the glass. A red line caught my attention. "Wait. There is an enormous withdrawal from thirty days ago."

"How massive?"

"Ten million dollars."

"Ten million?" Maya repeated. "From the joint pack fund?"

"Yes," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It is tagged under the E3 expansion code. The European territory tour."

"The trip he took last month," Maya said. "He told the elders he was securing land in France. He was gone for two weeks."

"The money never went to France," I said. I tapped the transaction line, pulling up the routing details. "The destination account is domestic. It is a local real estate trust."

"Run the trust name," Maya ordered.

"I am doing it." I minimized the ledger and opened the property registry portal. Kael used it to track all pack-owned lands. I pasted the trust ID into the search bar. The loading icon spun for three agonizing seconds.

A digital deed materialized on the screen.

"It is a penthouse," I whispered.

"Where?"

"Downtown. The glass high-rise overlooking the river. The one they finished building last spring." I zoomed in on the document. I read the name listed under the primary owner section. The letters blurred together for a fraction of a second before snapping into sharp, painful focus. "Chloe Adams."

"The streamer?" Maya shrieked. "He bought the internet girl a ten-million-dollar penthouse with pack money?"

"Keep your voice down," I hissed, glancing toward the bathroom door. The water continued to drum against the tiles. "He paid in full. The deed is solely in her name. No mortgage. No pack ties."

"He built you a five-million-dollar greenhouse," Maya said, her voice hollow. "And he bought her a ten-million-dollar home."

The words hit me like a physical strike. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second.

"Lily, this is embezzlement. The elders will strip his Alpha status if they see this. He stole from his own people."

"They are going to see it," I said.

I tapped the export icon. A drop-down menu appeared. I selected my encrypted cloud drive.

"I am sending the files to my vault," I told her. "The bank transfer, the routing history, the deed. All of it."

"Send me a copy too," Maya said. "Just in case."

"Done." I watched the blue progress bar inch across the top of the screen. "Maya, he funded her entire life while I sat here drinking coffee and admiring orchids."

"He is a monster," Maya said, her tone thick with disgust. "Are you going to confront him when he steps out?"

"No." I stared at the progress bar. Eighty percent. "If I scream at him now, he will lock me out of the accounts. He will destroy the tablet. I need to play the perfect, clueless Luna until the money is secure."

"You are shaking, I can hear it in your voice."

"I am fine," I lied.

One hundred percent. The screen flashed a green checkmark.

The water in the bathroom shut off abruptly.

The sudden silence hit my ears like a physical blow.

"He turned off the shower," I whispered.

"Hang up," Maya urged. "Act normal."

I ended the call and shoved my phone into my pocket. My palms were slick with sweat. I wiped them on my silk nightgown and grabbed the iPad.

I lowered the tablet onto the velvet armchair. I tried to match the exact angle. I stepped back, my chest heaving.

The brass doorknob clicked.

I spun around, lunging toward the mahogany vanity table. My knee slammed into the wooden stool, pain flaring up my leg, but I ignored it. I snatched a heavy glass jar of hand cream. I twisted the silver lid off, digging my fingers into the thick white lotion.

I smeared the cream across my knuckles just as the bathroom door swung outward.

Thick steam rolled into the bedroom, carrying the sharp scent of wolfsbane soap.

Kael stepped onto the plush rug. A white towel hung low on his hips. Water dripped from his wet hair, sliding down his chest and pooling over the jagged scar on his ribs.

"You are still awake," he said, wiping a bead of moisture from his jaw.

"My hands were dry," I said. I rubbed the lotion into my skin, keeping my gaze fixed on his collarbone.

"You should be resting," he murmured.

He walked toward the center of the room. His bare feet padded across the hardwood. He stopped inches from his discarded suit jacket. His toes brushed the edge of the white hotel keycard.

He did not look down.

Instead, he turned his head. His gaze snapped directly to the velvet armchair in the corner.

He stared at the iPad.

His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking under his skin.

He took a step toward the chair, his dark eyes locked on the tablet resting exactly half an inch outside the square indentation it had left on the velvet cushion.