99 Times for Alpha’s Bestie novel Chapter 28

That evening, I prepared a proper dinner for myself in the kitchen. Liam’s cooking was barely edible, and I refused to subject my stomach to it any longer.

Using what ingredients I found in the refrigerator, I cooked two of my most favourite dishes.

Dishes that I usually avoided because Liam didn’t much care for them.

When I carried the plates to the dining table, Liam emerged from his study. He froze at the sight of two plates and a single place setting.

“Where’s mine?” His voice was pinched with hurt, but I ignored it.

“There’s food in the fridge, including instant noodles. Help yourself.” I continued eating without looking up.

“You used to bend over backward making elaborate meals for me. You used to be a dutiful mate who loved to take care of me. What changed?” Liam’s carefully cultivated goodwill evaporated.

‘Simple, Liam. That was because I knew who you really are,‘ I thought bitterly.

Aloud, I simply shrugged. “I made Pot–au–feu and Ratatouille. It’s just enough for me, but I’ll share if you want half.”

Liam’s expression darkened. “You know I hate eggplants.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that. You’ve rarely been home for dinners with me since Breanne has come back. I didn’t think about it. Sorry,” I said, unrepentant. “I don’t see a point in the veggies going bad in the fridge, so I cooked my favourite things. I’ve grown accustomed to you not being here, Liam. What do you expect? A few days of ass–kissing to change that?”

In a flash or tantrum and rage, Liam stormed upstairs and slammed his study door.

He sat in there, seething for hours. It brought a phantom smile to my face when I would periodically hear the door c***k open, checking the hallway for any sign that I had caved like in the past and cooked him an apology meal.

But none came.

I heard the door swing open again, and he stomped his way to our master bedroom. He mumbled something about this not working, and I could push all I liked; he wouldn’t reject me.

He was in the bedroom for only minutes before I heard rushed feet and saw Liam come charging down the stairs in confusion and panic.

Now what? I focus on my phone, freezing him out.

“Where are the jewelry and clothes I bought you?”

“Sold them,” I replied flatly, my eyes remaining fixed on my phone.

“What? Why? Do you need funds?” Liam demanded. “You could’ve asked me for money! Why sell my gifts for you?”

“Cash is more useful,” I shrugged as if it were basic knowledge.

Liam’s jaw clenched. “Claire, you’ve become” He cut himself off, recognizing the futility.

Arguing with me, I’m sure, now felt like shouting into a void. I heard him stomp his way back upstairs, slamming the bedroom door hard enough to rattle the frame.

I remained sprawled on the sofa, not a care in the world at the moment. It was like the clouds had parted and the heavens were shining down on me.

And then my phone buzzed violently–Liyah spammed a dozen photos.

Assuming this was nothing more than a misfire on her part, I didn’t bother looking at them and simply sent a question mark.

Liyah replied instantly, “Oh my Goddess, Claire!! Check them! This is HUGE news!”

I opened the first one and enlarged the image. My breath caught at the distinctive teardrop mole beneath the subject’s eye.

Breanne?

I scrolled through the rest–each more explicit than the last. Lingerie shots, provocative poses, images you would want for public image. There were no nudes or sexually related photos, but they were enough to cause a stir among the socialites and the Elite packs around the province. It kind of reminded me of a lingerie photoshoot, if I was being honest.

Regardless, it wouldn’t be something the squeaky–clean Breanne would want released.

“Where did you get these?” I texted, my heart pounding wildly.

Liyah’s reply came lightning–fast. “Claire, They’re EVERYWHERE! I honestly thought you leaked them as payback for the hotel incident!”

“I can assure you that this was not me,” I typed back. “How would I have even gotten pictures like this? Oh my Goddess, this is insane.”

I clicked out of the chat window and frantically checked Edmonton’s news portals.

Headlines screamed, #BreanneTelderPrivateCollection. The articles featured the very photos Liyah sent.

I read the articles with wide eyes and a gape–jawed.

[Breanne Telder–Edmonton’s own darling–had a sterling reputation and a flawless image.

She had a gentle, lovely appearance and a graceful, alluring figure, always seeming frail and delicate. Who knew she had such a naughty, scandalous side to her?]

[Though not a biological daughter of the Sterling family, the Sterlings had treated her as their own for years, providing her with the best of everything after her father, Beta to the Sterling pack, had died in a rogue attack years ago. Always introduced as the daughter the Sterlings always wanted, and her lifestyle was in no way inferior to that of any other wealthy heiress.]

I continued to read through.

There was an article primarily about the Sterling Moon pack and how close Breanne and Liam were since they were puppies.

They pack, and many neighbouring packs always thought Liam and Breanne would end up being true mates, but it wasn’t so. Liam mated with a wolfless girl, and there was my name. This discovery, ultimately, brought those hopeful of the prospective union to a crashing halt.

I sighed.

Even in an article about Breanne’s scandal, I was sectioned out as breaking their perfect love story. Gag me now!

What I couldn’t understand, though, was that Breanne had always been careful with her behaviour and image, appearing poised and proper in every setting, never once making a misstep.

How did anyone manage to get these provocative, seductive photos from her? She is posing for all of them. Someone was taking them, that much was clear.

A frenzied doorbell shattered the silence.

I furrowed my brows. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but with the rush of Liam coming down the stairs, I realized he most likely ordered food for himself. Rain lashed the windows as Liam yanked the front door open.

A drenched figure collapsed against him, startling him.

It was Breanne.

Her hair was plastered to her face, and her nightgown was soaked and transparent against her skin. She looked naked, in the right lighting. Curious considering the current scandal circulating.

I watched as Breanne leaned fully into Liam’s solid form; her body trembled violently.

“Breanne!” Liam gasped in concern, pulling her into his arms protectively. “You’re soaked! What happened?”

Breanne crumpled, sobbing too hard to speak. Liam guided her inside, rushing around the house to grab her towels to dry her shaking form.

“Talk to me! What’s wrong?”

Breanne’s cries escalated to wrenching wails.

I watched coldly, suspecting that the photo scandal triggered this dramatic performance. I honestly felt no pity–only a dark, growing satisfaction.

As I continued to observe, Breanne abruptly stopped crying. Her eyes were blazing with hatred, and she lurched toward the sofa.

I sat upright, bewildered and suspicious. I knew she was up to something, but what? As I sat there, waiting, Breanne halted before me. Then–with a sharp thud–Breanne dropped to her knees.

What the heck was this all about now?