The Sickly Alpha's Substitute Bride: His Unholy Obsession

ALETA POV:

After the morning ceremony, the younger wolves dispersed, mingling in the castle gardens and along the sunlit riverbank. It was our designated time to socialize and secure our futures.

Justine tugged on my arm, steering me with calculated precision toward the river's edge, right where Jamel Faulkner stood laughing with his elite warriors.

"Aleta, look," she murmured, her voice light and airy, a perfect imitation of innocence. "The moonstones in the river are so pretty."

She pointed to the smooth pebbles gleaming under the clear water, inching her way closer to the slick, moss-covered bank. The hem of her pristine white dress skimmed the surface.

I watched her performance with cold clarity. In my previous life, this exact spot marked the beginning of my nightmare. I had genuinely slipped on those treacherous rocks, and Jamel had dived into the freezing current to save me. In front of the entire pack, our wet, clinging bodies and public embrace were deemed a scandalous intimacy. Tradition dictated that such close physical contact ruined an unmarried female's reputation, forcing the male to marry the girl he had compromised. He married me, but resented me every single day, convinced I had trapped him.

Now, Justine intended to replicate my history. She wanted to orchestrate the accident, force the heroic rescue, and secure her place as his undeniable bride.

I maintained a serene expression, following her to the water's edge. I had absolutely no intention of letting her perfect romance play out.

My eyes scanned our surroundings, quickly locking onto the perfect instrument for my disruption: Bianca Foster, Jamel's cousin. A proud, fiercely competitive girl, Bianca stood nearby, watching Jamel and Justine with undisguised jealousy. As the daughter of a neighboring Alpha, her status was far above Justine's.

I positioned myself carefully between Justine and Bianca. Just as Justine's foot deliberately slid off the smooth stone, her delicate cry piercing the air as her body tilted toward the rushing river, I made my move.

I let out a sharp, terrified shriek of my own.

Feigning a violent startle from Justine's sudden fall, I stumbled backward, throwing my entire weight directly into Bianca.

"Ah!" Bianca shrieked, completely unprepared. She flailed wildly before tumbling backward into the river with a massive, ungraceful splash, hitting the water mere seconds after Justine.

"Oh, Goddess! Bianca!" I cried out, my hands flying to my mouth, my face a flawless mask of horror and innocence. "I am so sorry! Justine startled me!"

Jamel reacted instantly, moving to dive into the water. But as he reached the bank, he froze.

There were two girls thrashing in the freezing current.

Justine flailed delicately, her voice a pitiful cry. "Jamel, help me!"

But Bianca, a high-ranking member of his own family, sputtered and screamed with genuine panic. "Cousin Jamel! Help!"

Jamel's face darkened into a thundercloud. One was the girl he desired; the other his noble kin. With dozens of pack members watching, he could not prioritize a lowly stepsister over his Alpha uncle's daughter. The social fallout would be disastrous. Whispers erupted from the crowd. The situation had instantly transformed from a romantic opportunity into an exquisitely awkward political trap.

Finally, Jamel and one of his warriors jumped into the water, Jamel taking care of Justine and the werewolf warrior taking care of Bianca, and together they pulled the two soaking, shivering girls to the muddy riverbank.

Justine's grand scene of a hero saving his damsel had been thoroughly shattered, replaced by a ridiculous farce. When she was pulled onto the grass, her pristine dress ruined, she shot me a look of pure venom.

Bianca was a sobbing, humiliated mess, complaining loudly to Jamel while pointing a furious, accusing finger at me.

I shrank behind my mother, apologizing profusely, playing the terrified victim. My father, Gilford, frowned deeply, but seeing my tear-streaked face, he only offered a half-hearted reprimand before turning to smooth over the diplomatic mess.

No one suspected a thing. Who would ever imagine a quiet, fifteen-year-old girl could execute such a calculating maneuver?

Once the chaos subsided, I slipped away from the crowd, my heart light and triumphant. I walked back toward the castle along a secluded path, the image of Justine's ruined plan bringing me deep, satisfying pleasure.

This is only the beginning, Justine. I will take back control of my life, piece by piece.

As I rounded a corner near the garden walls, hushed voices caught my attention. Justine and her personal maid, Agnes. I quickly stepped behind a thick rose bush, blending into the shadows.

"...that bitch! She did it on purpose!" Justine's voice was a low, vicious snarl, entirely stripped of her usual gentle, airy tone.

"My lady, please calm yourself. Your ultimate goal is what matters most now," Agnes soothed, her voice a low murmur.

"My goal? She ruined my moment!" Justine hissed, pacing furiously on the gravel path. "I cannot have her here, constantly getting in my way."

Then, I heard Agnes's sly, venomous suggestion. "My lady, you are forgetting the royal decree. The royal family is actively seeking a mate for the sickly Prince Buren, are they not?"

"Prince Buren?" Justine's voice dripped with contempt. "The invalid they say will not live to see his twentieth birthday?"

"The very same," Agnes confirmed. "If we could persuade the Alpha to send Lady Aleta to the capital in your place... she would be gone for good. She would never trouble you again. Let her waste her youth watching over a dying cripple."

Justine paused, and a slow, cruel laugh escaped her lips. "An excellent idea. Let her live in a gilded cage, trapped in a miserable, loveless duty."

I leaned against the cool stone wall as their footsteps faded into the distance, a slow, genuine smile spreading across my own face.