Flash Marriage To The Hidden Alpha King

Isla Pacheco POV:

By noon the next day, I stood in the grand marble lobby of Crestview Heights, rolling my battered black suitcase behind me.

The uniformed concierge behind the mahogany desk looked up with a sharp, calculating gaze. But the second I tapped the black-and-gold card against the scanner, his posture snapped straight.

"Welcome home, ma'am," he said, bowing deeply from the waist before rushing out from behind the desk to summon the private VIP elevator for me.

I stepped into the mirrored elevator car, my mind spinning. Did Cullen work as the head of private security for this building? That was the only logical explanation for why a Rogue would possess this level of clearance.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the fourth floor.

The fourth floor was entirely secluded, featuring only two massive double-door suites separated by a wide hallway covered in thick, sound-dampening wool carpet.

I dragged my suitcase toward Unit 402. As I raised the card to scan the lock, my eyes accidentally drifted toward the brass plaque of the unit directly across the hall.

Unit 401.

My heart nearly stopped.

Hanging on the door was a polished brass nameplate: Tran & Stafford.

It was the very apartment Finley had bragged about for months—his so-called "ticket into high society" that he had supposedly secured through his corporate connections.

Out of millions of people in this sprawling metropolis, my shotgun-marriage Rogue husband lived directly across the hall from my cheating ex-fiancé.

My hands shook so violently that the black keycard slipped from my fingers, landing silently on the carpet.

Before I could bend down to pick it up, the electronic lock of Unit 401 clicked open.

Finley stepped out into the hallway, wearing a tailored navy suit and smoothing his silk tie with a smug, self-satisfied grin.

A second later, Falon emerged behind him in a red silk slip dress. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and pressed a wet kiss against his cheek.

"Make sure you impress the board members at the reception tonight, darling," Falon purred. "My father is introducing you to the inner council."

The sickening, intertwined scents of cedar and wild roses flooded the corridor once again.

I stood frozen beside my suitcase, my fingers curled into tight fists.

Finley turned around, and his eyes locked onto me. The smug smile on his face instantly shattered, replaced by disbelief and immediate hostility.

"Isla? What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, stepping out into the hall.

Falon peeked over his shoulder. When she saw me standing there with my cheap suitcase, a cruel, mocking laugh escaped her lips.

"Well, well. Look who it is," Falon sneered, sauntering forward in her house slippers with her arms crossed over her chest. "Did you get kicked out of your old place, Isla? Did you take a job as a cleaning maid just to afford bread?"

I took a slow, deep breath, forcing down the surge of humiliation. "Where I live is none of your business, you pair of parasites."

Finley stepped between Falon and me, puffed out his chest, and pointed an aggressive finger at my face. "Did you follow me here? You're stalking me, aren't you? You're completely unhinged!"

"Stalking you?" I laughed coldly. "You really think you're that important, Finley? A spineless coward who crawled into an executive's daughter's bed for a paycheck isn't worth my time."

Finley's face twisted in rage. "Watch your mouth! If you breathe a single word of this at the office, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every corporate pack in this city!"

"Try it," I said, holding his furious gaze.

Falon suddenly gasped, clutching her chest and stumbling backward against the doorframe. "Ah... Finley, my stomach hurts... She's... she's suppressing me..."

She leaned weakly against the door, pretending to faint with an Oscar-worthy display of fragile helplessness. In high-society werewolf culture, high-tier females often weaponized their delicate status to trigger protective violence from their mates.

Finley saw red. His inner wolf snapped under the perceived threat to his new meal ticket.

"You dare use your aura to attack her?" Finley roared, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson as he lunged toward me. "Falon is a high-born female!"

"I haven't released a single drop of scent, you idiot!" I yelled back.

"Shut up!" Finley snarled, raising a heavy, clenched fist. Thick veins bulged across his forearm, and his fingernails sharpened into lethal claws as he aimed a punch straight at my face.

The hallway was narrow, and my back was already pressed against the locked door of Unit 402. There was nowhere to run.

I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing my forearms up to brace for the impact.

The blow never landed.

Instead, a sickening CRACK echoed through the hallway, followed immediately by Finley's bloodcurdling scream.