Finding Love with the Alpha King at Christmas

Emma The snow was piling up faster than the city could scrape it away. Plows crawled along the streets, leaving wet, gray scars that vanished under fresh flakes within minutes. By the time I pulled up to the Arden building, my wipers were fighting a losing battle, and the world was just white and blur. I killed the engine and opened the door of my sleek black SUV—Brandon’s gift, technically, though he always said, “We can’t have my girlfriend driving that old tin can, it looks bad.” The moment my heel hit the slush, icy water flooded into my shoe. “Fantastic,” I muttered, teeth chattering. “Love this for me.” I hated heels. I hated pencil skirts. I hated I was teetering across an icy sidewalk like an i***t instead of stomping in my old boots. But after three years with Brandon—future CEO and golden boy—I’d learned how to look the part. His part. Neat little packages of silk and leather, always camera-ready for his parents’ parties, his networking dinners, his life. I popped open the back door and grabbed the glossy boutique bags with his parents’ Christmas gifts, tucking them carefully against my side—careful, careful, don’t get them wet. The other bags, the ones crammed with fairy lights and glass ornaments, stayed on the floor of the car. Those were for the tiny fake tree in our apartment. Brandon had rolled his eyes when I’d dragged it out of storage last week. My parents’ estate is fully decorated, Em. We’ll be there for Christmas. We don’t need all this… He’d waved a dismissive hand at the lights and tinsel, like I was a kid begging for candy instead of an adult trying to make our place feel like an actual home. Childish and unnecessary—that was the verdict. I’d smiled and shrugged it off, but I’d bought the decorations, anyway. Two weeks before Christmas, I wanted my own corner of warmth, even if it was just a fake spruce in the living room. Hugging the gift bags to my chest, I hurried toward the glass doors. A security guard nodded as I passed; I waved back without slowing. Even in the lobby, I didn’t stop to admire the massive Christmas tree or the glittering decorations. My heartbeat had a different focus. I was finally building a family for myself. Not the temporary, conditional kind I’d grown up with. A real one. Brandon, his parents, their perfect estate. This Christmas, it all felt close enough to touch. Close enough that I’d spent way too much money on custom gifts for his mom and dad, and had already mentally rehearsed not crying if he finally proposed. The elevator ride to the top floors usually felt long; today it was endless. I watched my reflection jitter in the polished metal—the sleek hair, the subtle makeup, the tasteful blouse. Not the girl with trash bags for suitcases and a file number that followed her from house to house. Someone new. Someone who belonged here. The doors slid open on the executive floor. Quiet carpet. Glass walls. Money, humming under everything. Melissa, his assistant, straightened as soon as she saw me. “Oh! Emma.” Her smile looked… tight. “I didn’t know you were coming.” “That’s the point.” I lifted the bags. “Thought I’d surprise him. Is he here?” Her eyes flicked toward his office. “He’s… away for a meeting.” “That’s okay. I’ll wait.” My excitement buzzed again, drowning out the odd note in her voice. “Emma, maybe—” she started, half-rising. But I was already walking away, the bags cutting into my fingers. If I’d turned back, if I’d listened, maybe everything would have gone differently. I didn’t. I opened his office door without knocking. He’d told me a hundred times I didn’t need to knock. The scene inside was so wrong my brain refused to process it at first. Brandon was half sitting, half leaning back against his desk, shirt bunched around his waist, belt undone, pants shoved down to his knees. His head was tipped back, eyes half-closed, mouth parted in a low sound. In front of him, on her knees on the plush rug, was a blonde woman I didn’t know. Her head moved in a steady, obscene rhythm, hand braced on his thigh. The wet, ugly sound of it filled the room. My fingers went numb. One of the bags slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. A carefully wrapped gift for his mother rolled out and bumped against his shoe. “What the hell is this?” My voice came out hoarse and too loud. The woman startled, jerking back with a loud pop, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Brandon’s eyes flew open. For a second, something like guilt flashed across his face. Then it curdled into irritation. “Jesus, Emma,” he snapped, grabbing for his pants. “Do you ever knock?” I laughed. I didn’t mean to. It burst out of me, sharp and broken. “I’m so sorry I interrupted your… team-building exercise.” “It’s not what it looks like,” he said automatically, shoving himself upright, fumbling with his belt. “Oh, really?” My hand flew out, gesturing at the woman still kneeling there, hair mussed, lipstick smeared. “Because it looked like your d**k was in someone else’s mouth.” Color rose in his neck. “You’re being dramatic.” “Dramatic?” Something in my chest tore a little wider. “I walked in on you cheating on me in your office. I don’t think there’s a calm, reasonable tone for that.” The woman scrambled to her feet, stammering something about being sorry, about leaving. Brandon didn’t look at her. His attention was all on me now, that familiar calculating look sliding into place. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice like we were in one of those arguments we had to keep polished for public view. “You’ve been… distant lately. Between work and… your moods.” His hand flicked vaguely, like my depression and anxiety were messy clutter I’d left out. “I made a mistake. It was just s*x. It doesn’t mean anything.” “Wow,” I said. My hands were shaking. “You really are going for the full cliché, huh? ‘It meant nothing, baby, you made me do it.’ Want to blame my outfit while you’re at it?” His jaw clenched. “Don’t twist my words. You know everything I’ve done for you. The car, the apartment, the connections—” “There it is,” I cut in. “I was waiting for the invoice.” “Are you seriously going to throw away three years over one stupid mistake?” he demanded. “You can’t just walk out every time something isn’t perfect, Emma. That’s not how adult relationships work.” No, but that was how foster placements worked. One day you were “part of the family,” the next there was a social worker at the door. My chest squeezed. I swallowed hard. “This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about you lying to my face while you let someone else—” My voice broke. “You knew what I’ve been through. You knew.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with the trauma card, okay? I’m trying to talk to you like a rational person.” Something inside me went still. “Rational,” I repeated. “Got it.” I turned and walked out. He called my name, but I didn’t look back. The hallway blurred around me. I barely registered Melissa’s horrified whisper or the way the elevator doors took years to open. Brandon’s footsteps pounded the carpet just as they slid shut. He shoved his hand between them, and the sensors made the doors stutter and roll back. “Emma, don’t you dare run away from me,” he snapped, stepping into the elevator. “We are going to talk about this.” I stared straight ahead. “Get out.” “No.” He punched the button for the lobby. “You’re upset. You’re not thinking clearly. We have dinner with my parents tonight, and you will not embarrass me by making a scene.” I let out a disbelieving breath. “I just found your d**k inside someone who isn’t me, and you’re worried about dinner?” “I’m worried about you throwing away your future over something that doesn’t matter,” he shot back. “Do you really want to go back to that shoebox apartment and freelance scraps? Because that’s what waits for you if you blow this up.” There it was. The threat tucked neatly under the concern. The elevator dinged. The doors opened into the gleaming lobby. I stepped out, clutching the surviving gift bag like a shield. I could feel him behind me, a hot, angry presence. “Emma, stop,” he said, catching my wrist just as I hit the cold air outside. “Be reasonable.” Something wild flared in me. All the years of keeping my voice down, smoothing over my edges, being the good, grateful girl who knew she didn’t deserve too much. I yanked my hand free. “I hope your shareholders appreciate your d**k as much as your new girlfriend did,” I said. “We’re done.” His face went hard, almost ugly. “You’ll come crawling back,” he said quietly. “You always do.” It was such a precise jab—straight at the part of me that had always clung, always tried harder when people pulled away—that for a second, it stole my breath. Then I walked away. In the parking garage, my hands shook as I jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, echoing off concrete. I threw the bag onto the passenger seat; a porcelain box for his mother slid out, its ribbon askew. Headlights flared in the rearview. Brandon stepped in front of the car, palms up like he could physically hold me there. “Move,” I mouthed, throat too tight for sound. He shook his head slowly. Don’t be childish. I pressed my foot to the gas just enough to make the SUV creep forward, a warning. His eyes narrowed. For a second, I wondered if he’d actually test how much I meant it. Then he stepped aside, jaw clenched, fingers whitening around the strap of his expensive watch. I drove past him. Out of the parking lot. Out of the life I’d been trying so hard to believe was mine. I didn’t remember half the turns I took leaving the city. One highway bled into another, then into smaller roads. Snow smeared across the windshield; my wipers struggled. I shut off the GPS when it kept trying to redirect me back toward downtown. I didn’t want instructions. I wanted out. Tears burned my eyes. Every time I blinked, memories sliced through: my parents’ car crash, the one I didn’t remember but still somehow lived in the bones of my story; a dozen foster homes; social workers saying it just isn’t the right fit; Gloria’s steady hands and steady rules; Gloria’s empty chair after she died. Every time I thought I’d found something solid, it disappeared. Parents. Homes. The one foster mother who kept me but never adopted me, so her nephew could sweep in and erase me from the life we’d built when she was gone. I’d clawed my way through college, through internships, building something that wasn’t dependent on anyone. Then Brandon had appeared with his effortless charm and his promises of forever. I’d thought he was my stability. My future. Stupid. The road narrowed, streetlights thinning out until there were only my headlights and the occasional reflective marker. Trees pressed in on either side, dark shapes against a sky gone purple with evening. The snow fell thicker here, unbothered by plows or sidewalks. “What now?” I whispered, voice shaking. No family. No partner. No plan. My mind drifted, just for a second, away from the slick black ribbon of asphalt in front of me. The curve sign loomed out of the dark a heartbeat before I hit it. By the time I reacted, it was too late. The back of the SUV slid out, tires losing their grip. I jerked the wheel, over-corrected, felt the world tilt sideways. The fence came out of nowhere—a flash of wood and wire in my headlights—and then the impact slammed through me. The car flipped. Up was down; down was everywhere. Glass exploded. My body whipped against the seatbelt. The roof crunched in with a sickening groan. Then everything stopped with a violent jolt that rattled my teeth. I hung there, upside down, the belt carving into my ribs, blood warm and sticky in my hair. The windshield was a cracked white blur, snow already frosting the edges. The air smelled like gasoline and burnt metal. My fingers scrabbled for the buckle. It wouldn’t release. Panic clawed up my throat. Smoke started to curl from under the crumpled hood, snaking into the cabin. I coughed, lungs burning. This is how it ends, I thought, dizzy. Full circle. Alone in a car crash. This time there’s no one left to rescue the baby. The edges of my vision darkened. Something moved outside. Through the broken glass, past the twisted frame, I saw a shadow detach itself from the tree line. It stepped into the wash of my headlights, huge and solid, snow puffing beneath its paws. A massive black wolf stood at the edge of the wreck, eyes gleaming pale in the dark, staring straight at me.