The Alpha's Hundred Million Dollar Mate

Kierra POV:

I used my key to open the door to my apartment, not the new home I was supposed to share with George. The moment the door clicked shut, the city's noise and the bar's chaos were sealed away, leaving only a deafening silence.

My body slid down the door, my legs giving out. I sat on the cold floor, the tight string of control finally snapping. The immense grief and the rage of betrayal washed over me like a tidal wave.

I didn't cry. I just sat there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the video in my head. Not to torture myself, but to burn the pain into my memory, to make sure I would never be that stupid again.

My phone began to vibrate violently. "George" flashed across the screen. I watched it ring for a full minute until it went silent.

Then came the flood of texts.

"Kierra, please, let me explain!"

"It wasn't real, she seduced me!"

"I love you, only you!"

I stared at the pathetic words, a bitter, humorless smile on my lips. He couldn't even admit his own fault.

I didn't reply. I opened his contact, scrolled down, and selected "Block this Caller."

Then I went through my messages, one by one, blocking the so-called friends who sent texts of fake concern, their words dripping with a morbid curiosity to witness the drama.

The phone rang again. A new number. I answered. George's hysterical voice screamed through the speaker. "Kierra! You can't do this to me!"

I said nothing. I just hung up and blocked the number.

Then, a new message popped up. It was from my stepmother, Justine Sloan. "After causing such a huge embarrassment, do you even have the face to come back?"

A cold sneer twisted my lips. I blocked her number, too.

Finally, silence.

I pushed myself up from the floor and walked to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as I could stand. The scalding water beat down on my skin, as if trying to wash away the disgusting feeling of his betrayal.

After my shower, wrapped in a towel, I walked into my closet. My eyes landed on the dresses I'd bought for the wedding festivities, the matching outfits we were supposed to wear. I grabbed a giant black trash bag and started throwing everything related to George into it.

His shirts, the ties he left here, the gifts he'd given me... I didn't hesitate for a second.

Once everything was cleared out, the air in the apartment felt cleaner.

Then, the doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole. It was George. He looked pathetic, his hair a mess, his face a canvas of desperation.

"Kiki, open the door! I know you're in there! Let's talk!" he yelled, his fists pounding against the wood.

I ignored him, turned around, and walked into my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

He begged, apologized, and then started cursing for nearly half an hour. I put on my headphones, turned up the music, and drowned him out completely.

When the noise outside finally stopped, I took them off. I knew this was just the beginning.

Ending our engagement wasn't just about me and him. It involved two families. The Thorntons wouldn't give up on the alliance with my family so easily.

I opened my laptop and started searching for information on the Thornton family's business dealings. I needed to find their weak spot.

A verbal breakup wasn't enough. I needed an official, public statement that they couldn't deny.

And there was only one person who could make that happen: the Thornton family matriarch, George's mother, Beatrice Thornton.

I saved the video to a secure cloud server and sent an encrypted email to my lawyer, asking about the legal risks of releasing it publicly.

The reply came quickly. He advised against a public release but confirmed it could be used as leverage in a negotiation.

I stared out at the city lights, a plan already forming in my mind.

I was done being passive. I would take the initiative, seize control of this farce, and hold it tightly in my own hands.

I needed to go to the Thornton estate and speak with Beatrice face-to-face.

I opened the map on my phone, planning the route. Just then, a new text message arrived, from another completely unknown number.

"Need a ride? To the Thornton estate."