Filed to story: Watch Me Win Alpha (Olivia & Ethan)
Ava’s POV
I thought I had him figured out. The cold-hearted Alpha who tossed aside a loyal woman like Olivia for a bitch and a convenient affair. But today… he surprised me.
“I love her,” he’d said with those pathetic eyes, clinging to the last string of hope like a child begging for his mother not to leave him behind.
I crossed my arms and scoffed. “Then explain Chole. Was that love too? Or just a convenient way to pass time while Olivia worked her ass off to build your future?”
Ethan stood up slowly, gripping the torn divorce papers like they were a badge of honor instead of proof of his failure. His voice had a strange calm to it now-almost dangerous.
“I’m going to buy back everything she sold. Every dress, every book, every stupid mug if I have to. I’ll repaint the walls if she scratched them in anger. I’ll find the photos she burned. And if I can’t, I’ll print them again.”
“You’re insane,” I snapped. “That’s not love. That’s delusion.”
“She’ll be my Luna again,” he said quietly, like it was already written in the stars. “For the rest of her life”
I followed him to the door. “Those were just copies, you idiot!
You think tearing them delays anything? We’ll reprint them today. Hell, I’ll send them digitally if I have to.”
He didn’t look back.
It took everything in me not to slam the door on his arrogant back. I stood in the hallway, heart racing, fingers twitching with frustration. It was too late. He was too late. All that love he claimed to have-where was it when Olivia was crying alone in their bed? When she had to lie to her parents about why she looked so worn?
Too damn late.
Ethan’s POV
I sat on the stone steps outside the old cottage. The same one
Olivia and I used to visit on full moon nights when we were younger, when everything still felt simple. Now, everything felt hollow.
Rain slid down my face, cold and sharp. But the rain in my palms-my hands were burning. My insides, on fire.
I played the footage on loop.
Olivia stood in the center of our old bedroom, calm but distant. The wedding album in her hands trembled for only a second before she dropped it into the metal barrel. The flames flared instantly, swallowing years of memories. The photo where I kissed her cheek. The picture where she cried while holding our bond mark. Gone in seconds.
Her hands didn’t even shake.
I replayed it again.
My chest ached. I clutched my knees, trying to keep myself from shattering. My wolf hadn’t spoken to me in days. Not a growl. Not a whisper. Nothing. It was like he’d gone dormant, disgusted with the shell I’d become after losing our mate.
I deserved it.
I should’ve stopped Chole when she first crossed the line. I should’ve pulled away the moment Olivia’s scent stopped lingering on our sheets. But I didn’t. I ignored every warning.
And now, I was here-watching flames instead of her eyes.
I called Reed.
“Get everything Olivia sold of her back,” I ordered.
“All of it?” he asked.
“Yes. Everything. Every book, every frame. Even if we need to track down collectors or dig through charity shops.”
“Understood.”
“And have a new wedding photo printed. Same size. Same frame. Hang it exactly where it used to be.”
Reed didn’t ask questions. “I’ll take care of it.”
I hung up.
The only lead I had was a credit card transaction in Washington. No flight data, no hotel check-in, but a purchase at the mall-hers. I knew her handwriting like I knew my own.
Someone hid her well. Someone powerful.
And I had a feeling I knew who.
“Find out if Alexander Green is in Washington,” I told my team.
“Track any recent private jet landings without listed owners. I want locations, details, movements-everything.”
They nodded.
Because Alexander was the only one who could’ve taken Olivia.
The only one who could guard her that fiercely and make her disappear from me.
But I’d find her.
I’d burn the world if I had to.
Olivia’s POV
The next morning, I dressed simply-gray blouse, black trousers, flat leather shoes. No perfume. No distractions. I tucked a small tape recorder into my shoulder bag and headed out after breakfast, catching a cab straight to the factory.
The air smelled like iron and hot oil. As I stepped through the main gate, a cheerful woman greeted me and led me to the office area, where I was met by John Danie-the factory’s director. Middle-aged, slightly balding, and energetic in a way that made me feel like I was intruding on someone’s family-run business, not a branch of one of the country’s largest werewolf corporations. Well, he had been working here for 15 years now.
“Miss Olivia!” he said with a wide grin, extending both hands.
“We’ve heard about you. You’re the one working directly under
Alpha Alexander, aren’t you?”
I smiled politely. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.””
He chuckled like he already considered me one of their own.
“We were all hoping Alpha Alexander would visit in person.”
I played along, waving one hand lightly. “He’s neck-deep in summit prep. You know how it is.”
John laughed. “Of course, of course. We’re honored all the same.”
He then introduced me to the heads of administration and finance. Everyone seemed eager to make a good impression, though a few eyes lingered on me a little too long-not with suspicion, more like nervous curiosity. Still, I kept my tone light and friendly as John led me on a tour of the facility. The office was neat. The workshop was noisy and smelled of metal shavings and sweat. The dining hall was surprisingly spacious.
I asked innocent questions here and there about operations, staffing, and overtime pay. I occasionally took pictures, telling them they were for Alexander’s visual records.
When lunch arrived, I chose to stand in line like everyone else and made my way to a long bench near the corner of the dining hall. I set my tray down beside three women in faded uniforms who were clearly startled at first but gradually warmed up to me as we ate.
