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Alpha Took Off My Wedding Dress for His Mistress Novel Cover

Alpha Took Off My Wedding Dress for His Mistress

Moments before her wedding, the protagonist’s fated mate, Alpha Michael, commits a cruel betrayal. He forcibly takes her wedding dress to give it to his mistress, Becky, who supposedly has a terminal illness. When the bride resists, Michael uses his Alpha dominance to lock her away, suppressing her wolf’s fury. He demands she show compassion for Becky’s dying wish, dismissing his bride’s pain and dreams as insignificant compared to his mistress’s tragic fate.
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Chapter 2

"Micheal."

The air was thick with tension, our standoff silent but charged. My wolf, restless inside me, paced in my mind, ears pinned back.

Then, the door swung open.

Becky stepped in, her long hair cascading over her frail shoulders, her lips trembling as crystalline tears shimmered in her wide, doe-like eyes. She looked like the Moon Goddess herself had personally crafted her to inspire pity.

Her voice was soft, weak, as if merely speaking was draining the life from her.

"Don’t fight with Judy because of me," she murmured. "It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have gotten sick and then clung to life instead of just... dying right away..."

I blinked.

Did she really just say that?

Micheal gently covered her mouth, like she was the most precious thing in the world. His eyes were brimming with so much raw tenderness .

"Don’t be afraid," he said, voice low, soothing. "No matter what happens today, no one will stop me from granting your wish."

A growl rumbled deep in my chest. My wolf was furious, tail flicking in agitation.

Micheal turned toward me then, his towering figure casting a shadow over me. Alpha presence rolled off him in waves, oppressive and suffocating.

"Judy, I advise you to show some kindness."

I crossed my arms. "And what if I say no?"

Micheal paused, his jaw tightening.

Then, without another word, he turned and took Becky’s hand, leading her out.

For a second, I thought he had finally come to his senses.

I was wrong.

He returned.

And this time, he locked the door behind him.

My wolf’s ears flattened.

"Judy, don’t blame me for this."

Something in his tone—a chilling finality—sent a sharp spike of alarm through me.

I shot up, ready to run, but he was faster.

His Alpha reflexes kicked in, his grip iron-tight as he spun me around and pinned me against the vanity. My wolf snarled, but Micheal’s strength overpowered mine.

"Are you insane?! Micheal, let me go!"

My frantic struggles meant nothing.

I felt the zipper of my wedding dress sliding down, scraping against my skin like a brand.

"Stop!" I cried out, pain flashing through me as his grip dug into my waist. My wolf whimpered, but Micheal didn’t let go until the dress—my dress—was completely gone.

When he finally released me, I crumpled onto the floor, my arms wrapping around myself.

My meticulously styled hair was now a wild mess. My body—bare, vulnerable—felt like a broken relic of what should have been my happiest day.

Micheal, breathing heavily, held my wedding dress in his hands like a damn trophy.

His voice was cold.

"Does it hurt? You brought this on yourself."

I stared up at him, my wolf silent—too shocked to even growl.

Then, I spoke.

"Alpha Micheal, we are done."

His brows furrowed.

I pushed myself up, chin high, and let my next words tear through the bond like claws through flesh.

"I, Judy Carlson, reject you, Micheal Parkinson, as my mate."

The rejection hung in the air.

For a second, he simply blinked at me, as if he hadn’t heard right.

Then, irritation flickered across his face, and he let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Stop acting out. I’ll make it up to you with another wedding."

He turned to leave.

"But today, Becky’s dream must come true."

My vision blurred, my heart hollowing out as he disappeared.

Then—

Click.

The sound was quiet.

But the moment I heard it, my blood ran cold.

I rushed to the door. Locked.

I pounded on it, but no one answered.

A bitter laugh escaped me. He really did it.

I turned back, my gaze landing on a white T-shirt draped over a chair.

Desperate for something to cover myself, I grabbed it and pulled it over my head—only for the collar to get stuck.

Frustrated, humiliated, trapped—I could do nothing but fall onto my knees and cry and cry.

"Tsk. Looking this miserable?"

A deep, smooth voice cut through my despair.

I lifted my tear-streaked face, my breath hitching.

The moment I saw the man leaning against the doorframe, casually elegant in a crisp white suit, I knew trouble had arrived.

Alpha Halbert.

Micheal’s archrival.

The Moon Goddess really had a twisted sense of humor.

His eyes, sharp and mischievous, flickered with amusement as he took in my ruined appearance. My makeup was a mess, my hair tangled beyond saving—I probably looked like a rogue that had lost a fight with a tornado.

His lips quirked, but for just a moment, his teasing faltered.

Then, his voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

"Want to get some payback?"

My wolf’s ears perked up.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Everyone knew Alpha Halbert and Micheal had been close once, back in college—before something ripped them apart, turning them into bitter enemies. No one ever talked about why.

"I don’t recall inviting Alpha Halbert."

Halbert, unfazed, simply raised a brow and took a slow, deliberate step forward. His scent—crisp pine and the kind of danger that lured people in—drifted over me, sending a shiver down my spine.

My wolf stirred, intrigued.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?" His voice was smooth, tempting. "Opportunities like this don’t come twice."

He extended a hand toward me.

My wolf growled softly, uncertain.

Before I could even decide, Halbert moved.

In a blur of movement, he pulled me to my feet—so effortlessly it was like I weighed nothing. His strength was undeniable.

Then, before I could protest, he lifted a pristine white handkerchief and wiped my face clean. His touch was gentle, careful, as if he were handling something delicate and breakable.

His golden eyes assessed his work before giving a small, approving nod.

"Much better."

I blinked, momentarily stunned.

Then, his grip tightened around my wrist, his warmth steady, grounding.

"Let’s go." His voice was quiet but firm. "Revenge is best served fresh. Bottling it up will only hurt you in the end."

For the first time since this disaster started, I didn’t feel alone.

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