When the Alpha’s Stand-In Mate Betrayed

Hendrick was a no-show at the hospital for the following days. It wasn't until Savannah was preparing her discharge that she finally saw him.

He and Chantelle stood at her ward's door. She clung to his arm, her complexion rosy and visibly healthy.

"You're healing so fast, Savannah. Unlike me, I've always been sickly since I was a kid. I just had a little cold, but Ricky freaked out and insisted on dragging me here for a checkup," Chantelle said with a playful pout.

Meanwhile, Savannah calmly packed her bag, not lifting her head once.

Hendrick's gaze lingered on her face, as though searching for a trace of emotion.

Suddenly, he said, "I thought I'd come pick you up while we're here. Elle's place is undergoing a renovation, so she'll be moving in with us for the next few days."

"Oh." Savannah zipped her bag, nonchalantly replying, "Sure."

Once the one-month divorce waiting period was over, they would have nothing to do with each other. Who he wanted to live with after that was none of her business.

At her indifference, Hendrick's expression darkened instantly.

Back at the villa, he acted all close and affectionate with Chantelle right in front of Savannah. No matter how much he tried to get a reaction, Savannah stayed completely unmoved.

At dinner, he fed Chantelle food, while Savannah chewed mechanically, the food tasting like cardboard.

Suddenly, Chantelle let out a scream. She scratched her arm and mumbled, "It's so itchy…"

Savannah looked up and saw large red rashes spreading across Chantelle's neck. Her breathing grew shallow and fast.

Immediately, Hendrick picked her up and shouted, "Call the doctor!"

Soon, their private doctor arrived. Chantelle was diagnosed with a peanut allergy.

Hendrick's face grew stormy as he called the servant over, interrogating, "How many times have I reminded you? Elle is allergic to peanuts! Why was there peanut butter in our dinner?"

The servant, Sammy Larson, lowered her head, nervously twisting the edge of her apron, eyes flickering toward Savannah.

"Mrs. Cook made me do it… I'm sorry, Mr. Cook. I was just taking an order…"

Savannah jumped up in shock, and her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "When did I ever—"

"Please don't deny it, Mrs. Cook," Sammy interrupted, her voice raised. "You said it yourself, you couldn't stand Ms. Stone moving in. You were jealous of how Mr. Cook treats her, so you told us to teach her a lesson."

"Savannah."

Then came Hendrick's cold-plunged voice. He stepped forward, each step echoing sharply on the marble floor.

"Since the day at the courthouse, you've been quiet—and I thought you'd finally learned. But I never expected you'd be scheming against Elle instead!"

He looked down at her, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through her thoughts.

Savannah was just about to speak in her defense when she suddenly froze. She saw it—a faint, fleeting smile tugging at the corner of Hendrick's lips. It vanished almost instantly, but it had been real.

"Since you had the audacity to trigger Elle's allergy," he said as he turned to the wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of strong liquor, "You should know how it feels, too."

The bottom of the glass bottle made a crisp sound as it hit the table.

A chill swept through Savannah, her back pressed against the cold wall. He knew she was allergic to alcohol—he had always known.

Two bodyguards pinned her shoulders from both sides, their rough fingers digging painfully into her skin. The liquor burned like fire as it was forced down her throat, scorching its way from her mouth to her stomach.

She coughed violently, tears oozing out from her eyes, but they still made her drink over half the bottle.

Soon, the familiar stinging sensation spread from deep within her skin. Red rashes bloomed across her neck and arms. Her breathing grew labored, and the world around her blurred into a haze.

Just before everything faded to black, the last thing she saw was Hendrick standing against the light, wearing an almost imperceptible smile.

He was actually smiling.

When she woke again, the bedroom was dimly lit by only a single warm wall lamp.

Hendrick sat at the edge of the bed, his long fingers flipping through a document. He looked up when he heard her stir.

"You're up," he said, closing the file. His tone was calm as if he were merely commenting on the weather. "Don't do it again."

Savannah forced herself to sit up, her throat burning with pain. She looked at the calm expression on his face, so much softer now.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The realization crushed her.

It was never about Chantelle's allergy because he didn't care about that at all. What he cared about was her recent indifference. What he desired was watching her jealous, unraveling for him.

As written in the letters locked away in that safe, he loved seeing her lose her mind over him; loved watching her spiral and become irrational…

Unfortunately, for Hendrick, Savannah wasn't about to continue this game with him.

In another 15 days, they would officially be divorced. By then, they would have nothing to do with each other.