CHAPTER 4 : THE ALPHA’S MEMORY
1368 Words
But before they stepped in, Grace’s phone rang.
She frowned. “It’s my dad.”
She answered. “Hello?”
Alpha Mardon’s voice was grave. “Come home. Now. There’s something I must tell you… about Edward.”
Grace stiffened. “What about him?”
Mardon didn’t answer. Just said, “get home first”
Bella and Edward cleaned the rest of the mess together, their hands brushing once, twice, sparking something warm between them.
After they finish working for the day they go home.
Bella laid on the couch, her head tilted against a pillow. Her mind was replaying the way he held her, how strong yet gentle he was.
She whispered to herself with a small smirk, “Nice lips.”
Just then, Edward—still known as “Mr. Memory”—walked into the living room, stumbling slightly. His eyes were shut, his hand clutching his head like something inside was burning.
Bella sat up quickly. “Hey! What’s wrong?”
He collapsed onto the couch beside her, groaning softly.
His skin was burning hot.
Bella grabbed a small towel and some water, placing the cool cloth on his forehead. She gasped.
“105 degrees? That’s not normal…”
Then, as he drifted into a semi-conscious state, he began murmuring in his sleep.
“Require… Moon Pack… A.S.A.P…”
Bella froze.
She stared at him.
“Moon Pack?” she whispered. “Wait… How do you know that? That’s the name of the hotel…”
He kept mumbling.
“Alpha… Pack… I don’t need a Luna… Mom…”
Bella stared at him in disbelief.
“Alpha? Luna?” She sat back. “Is he writing a werewolf fantasy in his sleep?”
Her phone buzzed. She quickly searched Edward Group—the company that owned the Moon Pack hotel chain. She compared the photo of the CEO with the man lying beside her.
“No way…” she whispered. “they can't be the same.”
She leaned down to adjust the pillow under his neck when suddenly—he pulled her into his chest.
Still asleep, he muttered, “So cold… don’t go…”
“Hey! Memory!” she said, struggling. “Let go!”
But he held her tightly, curling around her like she was a comfort blanket. Bella squirmed and finally freed herself.
She looked at him and muttered, “Pervert.”
Then she grabbed a marker and scribbled ‘PERVERT’ on his forehead with a grin.
When Edward woke up groggily… and felt something warm wrapped around him.
It was Bella.
His hand was on her waist. Their legs tangled. She was sleeping soundly.
He blinked. Then looked at the mirror.
“Pervert?” he read aloud. “Really?”
He shook Bella gently. “Bella… Bella!”
She stirred, yawned, then cracked one eye open. When she saw his face, she smiled.
He pointed to his forehead. “Really?”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t let go of me!”
He smirked. “So your revenge is public humiliation?”
She giggled, grabbing a pillow to hit him. “That’s what you get!”
They both laughed hard until their stomachs hurt.
Bella went to the kitchen and prepared some breakfast.
Edward sat at the dining table. Bella brought a plate of food.
“As an apology,” she said dramatically,
“I cooked you this steak, especially for you.”
He picked up a fork, examined the meat, and tapped it twice. Tonk tonk.
“Mmm… a little too hard,” he said, frowning playfully. “I can tell you didn't tenderize it.
And smack it enough also, just by looking at it I can tell you didn't season it for long enough.”
Bella gawked. “Excuse me, Mr. Gordon Ramsay? If you’re such an expert, why didn’t you cook?”
He stood up. “Say no more.”
Within minutes, sizzling sounds filled the kitchen.
Bella sat, stunned, as he reemerged with two plates, garnished, sauced, and perfectly balanced.
He set one in front of her with a smirk. “Now, taste what a true chef can do.”
Bella took a bite and widened her eyes.
“Wait… is this… actually steak?”
“I know it looks different,” he said, “but trust me. It’s delicious.”
He was about to take a bite of his own—when his hand froze mid-air.
His pupils widened.
The fork dropped.
He clutched his head.
“Edward?!” Bella cried, rushing to him.
He stumbled back, gasping, falling forward onto the table.
“Mr. Memory,” as Bella still called him—lifted his head from the table, eyes still dazed, his hand trembling.
“I just… I just saw something,” he muttered. “I was eating in a…”
He paused.
“A hotel.”
Bella’s ears perked up. “A hotel?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.
She grinned with sudden excitement. “I know how we can help your memories come back!”
Later that day, Bella takes Mr. Memory to her family's hotel.
Bella led him down a cobbled street to a three-story building with peeling paint and a flickering sign: The Blue Lily Inn.
She spread her arms proudly. “This is my family’s hotel.”
Edward stared at it for a long moment, blinking.
Bella asked, “Well? Does it jog any memories?”
He tilted his head, lips twitching. “I think you misunderstood me. I said ‘hotels,’ not motels.”
Bella gasped, nudged him in the side. “Hey! Be nice.”
He chuckled. “I mean, charming… very rustic.”
Just then, the front door slammed open.
A stout man with a red face and a clipboard stormed out. “You! Boy! Come here! Are you deaf?! Go clean the patio! Lazy interns like you are the reason this place is falling apart!”
Bella blinked. “Uncle?”
Her uncle, Mr. Basil, glared at Edward. “And you! Why did you bring this stray here, Bella?! You don’t know how to run a hotel. That’s why you hired trash like this.”
Bella’s eyes widened. “Uncle! He’s not hired—I mean, he’s just…”
Before she could finish, Edward stepped forward calmly.
“This hotel’s decor and promotions are outdated. That’s why it’s not making money,” he said bluntly. “A small hotel like this should be part of tourism festivals. Seasonal packages. Live cooking events. Partner with local travel groups. Double the profit, if not triple.”
Mr. Basil’s eyes bulged. “What?! How dare you—! I’ve run this hotel for thirty years! You little rat, you think you can teach me?”
Bella stepped between them. “Uncle! Please. He’s my friend. He’s just helping. Let it go.”
Her uncle huffed, glaring. “Only because he’s your friend.” Then he turned to Edward, muttering under his breath, “Little bastard. I’ll teach him a lesson.”
Bella walked beside Edward, biting her lip. “I was actually thinking about the stuff you said. Tourism campaigns. Promotions. I think I’ll start a small flyer campaign first.”
Edward smiled. “That’s a good start. It's not as hard as you think.”
She looked up at him. “Would you… help me with it?”
He nodded. “Sure. But you might want to rethink paying that manager.”
Bella laughed awkwardly and didn’t reply.
A Few Hours Later…
Edward was in the storeroom, carrying boxes and cleaning products when Mr. Basil entered with a forced smile.
“I owe you an apology, son,” he said. “Didn’t mean to be so harsh earlier.”
Edward raised a brow. “It’s fine.”
“Actually,” Basil added, “Bella wants to speak with you in the warehouse. Says it’s urgent.”
Edward nodded slowly. “Alright.”
He dusted his hands and walked toward the back exit of the hotel.
As soon as Edward left, Mr. Basil's smile dropped. His face darkened. He stared at the door Edward just walked through and muttered:
“Mess with me... and you’ll pay the price.”
- Writer
