Chapter 148: Close to me
Starting Chapter 148 of "Mated To The Crippled Alpha": Lewisâs voice had never sounded like this before.Low. Calm. Wrapped in something that made my... See what happens next!
Lewisâs voice had never sounded like this before.Low. Calm. Wrapped in something that made my skin react before my mind could catch up. The sound slipped straight into my ears and settled in my hands, warming them, steadying them.
Yet beneath that softness was a faint impatience, carefully restrained.
"Darling," he murmured, close enough that I felt his breath, "unbutton my shirt."
The room was dim. My fingers hesitated, struggling to find the buttons. I followed his words carefully, undoing them one by one, slow and clumsy, like a student afraid of making a mistake.
My heart was beating far too fast.
When the last button came loose, I whispered, "What... what should I do now?"
"Come here," he said. "Sit on my lap."
Heat rushed to my face as I moved closer, straddling his waist, unsure where to put my hands, waiting for him to guide me.
He didnât speak.
One of his hands rested on my shoulder, steady and warm. His fingers traced the thin straps of my camisole, unhurried, deliberate. Each touch sent a quiet shiver through me, lingering long after his fingers moved away.
"Carl..." I breathed.
He stopped teasing at once, his fingers sliding down, grounding me again.
Though I could barely see him, I felt his gaze on me. It made me painfully aware of myself, even in the dark.
"Come closer," he said.
I leaned in slowly until our bodies lined up, warmth spreading from my spine up into my head. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.
"Carl..."
"Elena," he whispered, softer now. "My love."
This time, I was fully awake. Fully aware.
When morning came, the memories made my face burn. Lewis was already gone. I lay wrapped in the blanket, cool air brushing against my skin, my heart racing as I replayed everything.
We hadnât crossed the final line but it was still new to me. Intimate. Real.
As I stood to wash up, I caught sight of faint marks on my skin and flushed again, quickly looking away.
Only then did I understand what people meant by a honeymoon phase.
Lewis was busy as the New Year approached. That was expected. What surprised me was Grant.
He was home. Sitting stiffly at the table, peeling eggs with the focus of someone facing an impossible task.
Coming from privilege, heâd never had to take care of anyone before. The shells cracked unevenly beneath his hands, messy and awkward.
Around my mom, he seemed to lose all composure.
"Darling," he said gently, "even if you donât feel like eating, try a little. For the baby."
"I canât," my mom replied, frowning.
I nudged the bowl of chicken and mushroom broth closer. "Just a little, Mom. Itâll ease up soon. Be good, okay?"
Grant scooped some soup, blew on it, and held it toward her carefully. "Just a few sips. Youâll need strength for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I asked. "For what?"
"A dinner banquet," he explained. "Iâll be focusing on Snowville for the next few years. I need to build connections here."
My mom looked at him, puzzled. "Didnât you always take Monica and her daughter before?"
Something shifted in Grantâs expression.
Maybe it was fear. Maybe regret.
Ever since my mom mentioned leaving him, he had changed. The arrogance had worn down. Since her pregnancy, he seemed... smaller. More careful.
"Darling," he said quietly, "Iâve made too many mistakes. But youâre the only woman Iâve ever loved. Everything I did back then was foolish pride. I wanted your attention. I was jealous jealous that Nicholas lived in your heart when I couldnât."
He swallowed.
"I was wrong. I see that now. From this moment on, you are my wife. My only one."
Silence filled the room.
Neither my mom nor I spoke.
Grant fed my mom slowly, one careful spoon at a time.
Chicken and mushroom broth first. Then a few bites of grits. He didnât rush her, didnât pressure her. He waited, patient in a way I had never seen before.
When she finally swallowed, he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. The movement was natural, almost instinctive, as if his body remembered something his pride had long forgotten.
"Get some rest," he said softly. "I promise the Wilchers wonât come near you again. Tomorrow night, dress beautifully. I want everyone to know youâre the only Mrs. Ashbourne. Iâve already ordered a gown from your favorite designer."
Then he turned to me.
His gaze softened, losing its edge. "Riley... I know I havenât been a good father. Not to you. Now that youâre bonded and settled, there isnât much I can do to make up for the past. But I still want to try."
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.
"Iâm transferring ten percent of the Ashbourne Group shares to you and your mom."
For a moment, I couldnât breathe.
Grant is not someone who gives lightly. He puts everything into power, territory, and control. Even Monica who looked like she had everything never truly had anything that mattered.
Iâd looked into it myself.
The house Monica lived in wasnât hers. It belonged to Lincy. Her lifestyle was funded, yes but she held no stake, no claim. Not a single share.
The only time Grant had ever given shares was years ago, when my mom first entered his life. Five percent. Back when things were still... warm.
Now he was offering ten.
At current value, that wasnât generosity. That was surrender.
Seeing my shock, Grant exhaled slowly. "I grew up without a complete family. I never learned how to love only how to hurt. I used you to wound your mother, and thatâs on me."
He didnât look away.
"I donât expect forgiveness. Think of this as responsibility. As something a father should do."
His hand rested on Lenaâs belly, his touch careful, almost reverent.
"This child... this life coming into the pack... it woke me up. It reminded me what leadership really means. I want to do better. For all of us."
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting heavy in my chest.
"What about Monica and her daughter?"
He had expected it.
"There are years tangled there," he admitted. "It wonât end cleanly. But it will end. Iâll make sure Monica is taken care of financially. Lincy is my daughter I wonât abandon her. But she will never step into the Ashbourne name or claim its position."
With that, he stood and left for work.
Just like that.
After so many years lost in pride, he had finally woken up.
Too late.
Part of me wished he had stayed cruel. That wouldâve made things simpler. Cleaner.
Now... now I wasnât sure what my mom would choose.
I turned to Lena quietly. "Mom... do you still want to stay in this marriage?"
The room held its breath.