I woke up as my alpha bully's girlfriend

CHAPTER 9

Emily

“Mary.”

Her voice was smooth. The kind of voice that sounded expensive.

“I’m… I’m…”

Great.

Now I was stuttering.

I never stuttered. PBut to be fair, most people never found themselves pretending to be their bully’s rich girlfriend while speaking to the Luna of the most powerful Alpha family in the country.

“Oh, sweet Mary,” she said warmly. “There’s no need apologizing for the cancelled shoot. In fact, why don’t you come over this weekend? I’ll prepare something nice for you.”

Oh, absolutely not.

The last thing I needed was extending this disaster into Ethan Sparrow’s house. The Luna would sniff me once and immediately realize I was an imposter.

But Vivienne was staring at me with that look again. The one that silently promised violence if I embarrassed her.

I nodded quickly. “Y-yes, Luna. Thank you. I’ll be there.”

A soft chuckle came from the other end.

“Luna?” she repeated amusedly. “Since when do you call me that?”

Oh no.

I had no idea what Mary called her.

Before I could embarrass myself further, Vivienne snatched the phone from my hand. Her entire face softened instantly, like Helena Sparrow could somehow see her expression through the call.

“Oh, Helena,” she said sweetly. “Don’t mind Mary. She’s been acting strange since that fall. I may take her for a checkup before the weekend. And thank you for inviting us. We’re looking forward to dinner.”

I wasn’t looking forward to dinner.

I was looking forward to getting my body back before the weekend arrived.

Because there were two things I absolutely could not survive:

Doctors.

And sitting beside Ethan Sparrow pretending to adore him while his mother watched me.

The moment the call ended, Vivienne’s pleasant expression vanished.

“You will stay in this room all day,” she said coldly, “and think about every embarrassing thing you did today and how you should have handled it better.”

My attention stayed fixed on the phone in her hand. One swipe. That was all it would take for her to see the message I sent Ethan. And somehow, I knew the consequences would be worse than slaps.

I nodded immediately. “Yes. I’ll stay here and think about everything.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying me. Then she tightened her grip on the phone.

“I’m keeping this.”

Panic hit me so fast I lunged like I was about to attack her before thinking.

“Wait!”

My hand reached for the phone so quickly it startled both of us. Then reality crashed into me again.

This wasn’t home.

This wasn’t my mother.

Negotiation did not exist in this house.

I immediately stepped back and grabbed at my hair nervously. “I have an assignment.”

That excuse usually worked on my mother. School always worked on my mother. She could never say no to studies.

Vivienne looked genuinely shocked for a second.

I guess Mary Saint Laurent probably never begged for her phone because of homework.

She stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if I had lost my mind completely. Then finally, she tossed the phone onto the bed.

I nearly cried from relief.

“You have one hour,” she said sharply. “Then you return it.”

“What if Ethan wants to chat?” The words slipped out too quickly.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I mean… he said he wanted to talk.”

Her brow lifted. “He isn’t angry with you?”

Angry?

The Ethan I met at the studio looked like if I told him the sky was green, he would calmly ask what shade.

“No,” I said carefully. “He wants us to fix another date for the shoot.”

Vivienne relaxed instantly.

“Good. I almost thought you ruined this.”

Ruined what? They make him too important.

“You are not his mate,” she continued bluntly. “And you may never be. So we need to move quickly before he finds her. You know how mate bonds work.”

I blinked, amused.

“And what happens when he finds his mate?”

Her expression darkened immediately and he raised her hand instinctively.

I flinched before she could even move. Then, thankfully, she lowered it again.

“That fall has clearly damaged your brain, Mary,” she snapped. “But do not test my patience.”

With that, she turned and walked out, muttering angrily under her breath. The second the door shut, I grabbed the phone and deleted the message I sent Ethan.

Then I collapsed back onto the bed.

I searched again.

Body swaps.

Moon goddess interference.

Soul exchange reversal.

Same useless answers.

Same stupid suggestions.

Nothing that looked like it would work.

Eventually, I dropped the phone beside me and stared at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow morning, I would wake up in my real room.

Back home to my tiny bedroom.

Back to my annoying ceiling fan that sounded like it wanted to murder me in my sleep.

And gladly back to my poor but normal life.

***

Morning came, and the chandelier was still there, mocking me.

Nothing had changed.

I was still trapped inside Mary Saint Laurent’s body, and somehow the thought of surviving another day as her felt even worse than yesterday.

Because now I knew what waited for me downstairs.

Vivienne Saint Laurent and her slaps and insults. And the terrifying way she switched from cruel to sweet like a remote controlled her emotions.

Most importantly, I missed my mother.

I missed talking freely without calculating every word first. I missed a house where mistakes didn’t earn punishment. I even missed our tiny kitchen and the sound of my brother arguing with the television every morning.

I missed being plain, ordinary Emily.

School used to be my favorite place. Now it felt like a stage. A giant public performance where I had to pretend to be Mary Saint Laurent and act like I was happily dating Ethan Sparrow.

When I dragged myself toward the mirror, I froze.

My face looked terrible. It was red and swollen. Vivienne’s fingerprints might as well have been signed across my cheek.

“Oh no,” I cried.

I touched it carefully and immediately regretted it because pain shot through my face. I had never been slapped before in my life, so naturally, I had no experience hiding physical evidence of parental violence.

After my shower, I stood in front of the mirror trying to use Mary’s blonde hair to cover the swelling.

It failed miserably.

My curls would have hidden this perfectly. Another reason curly hair deserved respect. I did all I could and rushed out before I earned another slap.

Vivienne noticed the second I stepped downstairs.

She stared at my face for a long moment, then stood up from the breakfast table without saying a word. That somehow scared me more than her insults.

I sat down cautiously, wondering what crime I had committed this time.

Was she angry that the swelling existed?

Did rich people expect bruises to disappear overnight?

I rushed through breakfast nervously, barely tasting anything. Half the time, I was too anxious to swallow properly. I was forcing down the last bite when Vivienne returned.

With an ice pack.

I stared in surprise.

“Here,” she said stiffly, handing it over. “Use it. You can’t go to school looking like that.”

The irony almost made me laugh. Because for the Saint Laurents, appearances mattered more than assault.

Still, I took it carefully without breaking a scowl on my face. “Thank you.”

The cold helped a little. If anything, the redness looked brighter now.

Vivienne frowned at my face. “Tell people it’s the pimple.”

I resisted the urge to point out that pimples usually didn’t look like someone got punched by an angry boxer.

“Yes,” I said instead.

“Go to school. And no more disobedience. You'll act right with Ethan…and know your place.”

I nodded quickly.

The ride to school felt painfully quiet. I missed the school bus. I missed Grace. I missed our morning gossip sessions and the way she laughed too loudly at her own jokes. I even missed teasing her about whichever boy she was obsessing over that week.

In summary, I missed my life.

The car rolled into the school compound, and just as I prepared myself to step back into Mary’s nightmare, the passenger door flew open.

Someone slid into the seat beside me and slammed it shut like they were escaping a crime scene.