Chapter 94
A Broken Alpha Heiress‘ Revenge
Lucien’s POV
She blushed, crimson from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears.
“I… I’ll repay you,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
I closed my book and looked at her–really looked at her. She was trying her best to stay composed, but I could see the panic hiding behind her lashes. The way her fingers gripped the spoon a little too tightly. The way she couldn’t hold my gaze for more than a few seconds. All of it–delightful.
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” I asked, my tone light, as if the question wasn’t already loaded.
She was broke. That much was obvious. The hospital bill for a Mooncrest VIP ward alone could make a lesser wolf bankrupt. And yet, here she sat, her dignity as intact as ever.
She hesitated, cheeks burning even more. “I can do Moonstitch embroidery,” she said, barely above a whisper. “If you give me time, I can sell my work to earn the money.”
I almost laughed.
“I don’t need money, Riley,” I replied coolly, leaning back in the chair, resting my chin on my hand.
She blinked, confused and embarrassed. Of course she hadn’t considered that someone like me–Lucien Duskgrave, Alpha Prince of Stormridge–had no interest in coin. For someone who drives a Rolls–Royce and casually opens bottles worth more than most Omegas make in a
use was repayment in copper and cloth?
The real truth?
I didn’t need money.
What I needed was… different.
Something much more complicated.
Because I was cursed.
year,
A blessing twisted into a lifetime sentence by the Moon Goddess herself.
Most Alphas waited eagerly for the bond–a golden thread that would pull them toward their fated mate. A magnetic connection that ignited the moment their eyes met.
But me?
The Goddess marked me differently.
She said I would have a mate. One. Only one.
But she also said I’d never know her–unless she fell in love with me first.
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No bond. No spark. No scent recognition. Nothing.
Not unless she loved me–deeply, truly, irrevocably.
It was a punishment. For what, I never asked. I didn’t care.
But the rest of the world? The Packs? The She–Wolves who carried titles like weapons and used their wombs like war strategies?
They caught wind of my curse.
And they came in droves.
Because what better target than a cursed Alpha Prince?
If I couldn’t recognize my mate, if she might as well be a stranger among thousands–then why not settle for power? For bloodline? For the throne?
They circled me like vultures, each one trying to out–charm the last. Each one secretly hoping I never found my mate. Because as long as I remained cursed, I was vulnerable.
I grew tired of it.
So I told my Beta to start a rumor. One that would sink deeper than any fact.
Lucien Duskgrave–Stormridge’s cursed Alpha. Hideously old. Twisted in mind. Perverse. Mate–killer. A monster who buried a dozen Lunas before they bloomed.
Let them talk. Let them stay away.
I preferred solitude over sycophants.
And now, here sat Riley Vale, with her storm–wrecked eyes and pride–shattered spine, offering to stitch her way out of debt like an innocent lamb in a den full of wolves.
If only she knew what she was offering.
She looked down at her bowl again, her soup untouched.
“That… then what do you want from me?” she asked, cautious.
My eyes lingered on her face.
What did I want?
I wasn’t entirely sure. Yet.
But I knew this much–Grandmother had been pressing me to settle down. The pressure had only grown worse over the past year. Every month, a new Luna candidate showed up at the estate with some lavish gift and a pedigree longer than a king’s sword.
I was tired of the games.
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And Riley… she was quiet. She was desperate. But more importantly–she didn’t want anything from me.
That made her valuable.
She wouldn’t cling. She wouldn’t plot. She wouldn’t beg for a title.
And the more I watched her, the more I realized how perfectly she could play the role of the dutiful “chosen one“-the one woman I allowed into my orbit, if only to silence the bloodhounds of court.
“There are things more valuable than money,” I finally said, letting the words fall like bait into still waters.
She looked at me, confused.
“You said you could finish the Moonstitch scroll,” I continued. “Blooming Grace, wasn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Good. Grandmother’s birthday is in a month. If you can complete it without a single thread out of place. I’ll consider your debt paid.”
Her eyes lit up.
“That’s it?” she asked, voice tinged with cautious hope.
I nodded once. “That’s it.”
She smiled–actually smiled. “I promise I’ll do my best.”
I leaned back slightly, watching her face.
“Once you’re discharged, you’ll stay at the Duskgrave estate,” I added, almost offhand.
Her spoon paused. Her gaze snapped up.
“L–live with you?”
I didn’t let the smirk reach my mouth.
I merely folded my hands together and said evenly, “I paid two million for the scroll. I won’t risk you botching it unsupervised.”
She bit her lip, and then nodded. “Okay. That’s fair.”
I inclined my head slightly. “Rest well. You’ll need steady hands.”
She ducked her head again, shy, and finally began eating her soup.
I reopened my book and leaned into the light spilling through the window. Every now and then, I felt her eyes flicker toward me.
Let her watch.
Let her feel safe.
Because the more she trusted me, the closer she’d get.
And if–just if–by some divine mercy, she turned out to be the one…
Then she’d never leave.
Because this time, I’d make sure-
That love would find me first.