Revenge: The Comatose Alpha's Substitute Bride

Vivianna POV:

The black sedan glided through a set of imposing iron gates. Forged into the metal was the Sinclair Pack sigil: a snarling dire wolf, carved from black obsidian. This wasn't some ancient castle; it was a sprawling, modern estate of glass and steel, poised like a crouching beast on the hillside.

The car stopped. Carol shoved me out, her hand a hard knot in my back, hurrying me like cattle.

A middle-aged woman in a crisp gray uniform, her hair pulled into a severe bun, met us at the door. "I am Brenda Sullivan, the Head Housekeeper," she announced. Her eyes were sharp, like X-rays, scanning me from head to toe. I felt transparent. As the manager of the Alpha's household, her authority was second only to the family.

Her gaze lingered on my cheap dress for a fraction of a second, a flicker of disdain in her eyes, before turning to Carol. "Miss Reynolds. Alpha Alistair is expecting you."

Carol's professional mask immediately morphed into a fawning smile. She pushed me forward. "This is Vivianna. Kaelen's bride."

Brenda gave a curt nod. "Miss Monroe. Welcome to the Sinclair Estate. Please follow me." Her tone was polite but distant.

I followed, with Carol trailing close behind, her eyes constantly warning me not to make a mistake. I kept my head down, playing the part of the timid, wolfless Omega.

The interior was breathtakingly luxurious. I made sure to let my breath catch in my throat. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked manicured gardens, and the air hummed with the faint, clean scent of cedar and earth—the scent of power. The scent of an Alpha.

We were led to the Alpha King's bedroom. It was enormous, decorated in cold shades of black and gray. In the center of the room, on a massive bed, lay Kaelen Sinclair.

Even in his coma, his presence was a physical weight in the room. His features were sharp, like a sculpture, his black hair cropped short. I could feel the dormant power in him, a sleeping volcano.

Carol leaned in, her whisper venomous. "See? There's your husband. 'Serve' him well."

As she spoke, she stumbled, her body lurching toward me. Her trajectory was aimed directly at a side table with sharp, metal corners.

Her goal was obvious: to injure me, preferably leaving a permanent scar on my face. It would make the substitution irreversible and paint me as a sympathetic, damaged Omega, masking their deceit. 

Even a mere secretary felt entitled to draw my blood.

A cold, murderous fury simmering beneath my skin. They truly believed I was nothing but a disposable punching bag. Once I secured my position here, the Hayes family—and their lapdogs—would pay for every ounce of this arrogance.

I couldn't just dodge. It would expose my reflexes.

The moment her weight hit me, I went with the force, my body pitching forward in a clumsy, flailing motion. My foot "happened" to catch on the edge of the plush rug.

I landed in a heap on the soft carpet, inches from the deadly corner. It looked like a lucky break. Only I knew every movement was calculated.

Carol let out a fake gasp. "Oh, heavens, Vivi, are you alright?" Disappointment flashed in her eyes.

I looked up, tears welling, my body trembling. "I... I'm fine, ma'am."

Brenda's brow furrowed. She had seen the whole thing, but she said nothing, only addressing Carol. "Miss Reynolds, Alpha Alistair has been waiting in the study for some time."

Carol shot me one last glare before following Brenda out.

The room was silent, leaving me alone with the comatose Kaelen. I got to my feet, brushing myself off.

I needed a secure place to drop the act. I slipped into the adjoining bathroom, a massive space of marble and chrome.

I locked the door, the click echoing in the silence. The terrified girl in the mirror vanished, replaced by a woman with eyes of cold steel. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face to wash away the lingering scent of Carol's cheap perfume and my own fake tears.

I dried my face with a plush towel, taking a deep, steadying breath. It was time to assess my new "husband" and figure out my next move in this pack.

I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped back into the cavernous bedroom. The silence was absolute, heavy with the scent of cedar and dormant power. 

I crept back to the bedside. As I leaned over him, the eyes that should have been closed snapped open. They were the color of a stormy sky, sharp as an eagle's, and they were locked on my face.