The Alphas’s Revenge Bride

Aria POV The venue looked exactly the way I'd imagined it. White roses on every table. Warm lighting. The kind of night you plan for weeks and only get once. I had fought hard for those white roses — the florist kept pushing red, saying it was more romantic, and I kept saying no, white, because Damon liked things clean and simple and understated. Three years together. I figured I knew his taste by now. I'd even written him a card. It was folded inside my clutch, pressed between my phone and a lip gloss I'd touched up twice already. I'd rewritten it three times before I got it right. The final version said: I would choose you again. Every single time. I was smiling at that thought when I spotted Priya near the bar, waving both arms like she hadn't seen me in years. Three months, but still — I crossed the room fast and she pulled me into a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of me. “Look at you." She held me back and shook her head. "Damon does not deserve you in that dress." I laughed and grabbed a champagne flute off a passing tray. We fell into easy conversation — she was telling me about her new assignment up north, the politics, the difficult people — and I was half-listening, half-scanning the room for Damon, the way you do when you want to share a good moment with someone. I found him near the back of the room. He was standing very still. That was the first wrong thing. Damon was never still — he was the kind of man who filled every room he walked into, always moving, always talking. But right now he stood frozen, shoulders tight, staring at someone I couldn't quite see.Then the crowd shifted and I saw her. Dark hair. Red dress. The kind of woman a room notices. I watched Damon's posture change. That tightness dissolved off his shoulders like he'd finally exhaled after holding his breath for a very long time. He stepped toward her. His whole face opened up in a way I hadn't seen in months.And then he kissed her. The room disappeared around them. I could still hear music somewhere in the background, still see people moving in my peripheral vision, but none of it felt real anymore. All I could see was Damon touching her like he had missed her for years instead of months. Like I had never existed in between. My stomach dropped so fast it actually hurt. And the worst part — the part I think broke something in me permanently — was the look on his face. He looked happy. Not a greeting. Not a quick, polite thing. He kissed her like he meant it — both hands on her face, eyes closed, right there in the middle of the room — and I stood across the hall counting the seconds without realizing I was counting until I hit three and made myself stop. The champagne flute nearly slipped out of my hand."Aria." Priya's voice was low. Her hand closed tight around my arm. I already knew her name before it surfaced in my head. Some part of me had already put it together — the dark hair, the red dress, the way Damon looked at her like she was the only person in the building. Evelyn. His ex. His first love. The girl he had told me, over and over, was ancient history. She means nothing, Aria. That was a lifetime ago. The tears hit before I could stop them. Hot and fast and humiliating, blurring my vision right there in the middle of a room full of people who were already starting to notice. “Go to him,' my wolf Sable growled low in my chest. 'Right now.'I went. I crossed that room with my chin up and my jaw locked, blinking hard, refusing to let a single tear fall in front of these people. I felt the shift around me — conversations dropping, heads turning, that awful ripple of a crowd realizing something is about to happen. I kept walking. Evelyn saw me first. Our eyes met and something moved across her face — not guilt, something sharper than guilt. She pulled back from Damon, said something fast and quiet against his ear, and then turned and walked away, heels sharp against the floor, heading for the exit. “Evelyn—" Damon turned to watch her go.He still hadn't looked at me."Damon." My voice came out steady. I don't know how.He turned. Something crossed his face — surprise, then that careful blankness he wore when he didn't want to be questioned."Hey. I was just catching up with an old—". "Who was that?" I asked. Even though I knew. Even though every single part of me already knew. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Behind him, the sound of Evelyn's heels grew faint — farther, faster — and I watched his eyes follow the sound. “I'll be right back," he said.And he walked after her.I stood there. The white roses were still perfect on every table. The room was still warm and golden. Somewhere nearby, a woman laughed — bright and easy, the laugh of someone having the best night of her life.I looked down. I was still holding the champagne flute. My knuckles had gone white. I set it down. Slow and deliberate, the way you set something down when you're afraid of what you'll do if you don't control your hands.The grief hit me first — deep and sudden, like a door blowing open in a storm. Three years. Three years of showing up, of choosing him, of building something I thought was real.Then something else moved in behind the grief. Something quieter. Colder. Sable went very still in my chest. I reached into my clutch and pulled out the card. Read it one last time. I would choose you again. Every single time. I set it face-down on the table next to the champagne and walked toward the exit without looking back. I didn't know how yet. I didn't know when. But they were both going to regret tonight. I was going to make sure of it.The night air hit me the second I stepped outside. My phone buzzed. Unknown number. No name.One message. Three words. I saw everything.