Our Wedding Was Ruined and I Found a Husband 42

Chapter 42 

Jason’s POV 

I’d picked the coffee shop deliberately–miles from pack territory, buried in neutral ground where uncomfortable truths could surface without consequence. 

Riley Mitchell arrived punctually. Her gaze swept past Marcus before landing on me, and I watched her shoulders lock tight. She understood this wasn’t some friendly catch–up. 

Marcus and I had claimed the rear booth hours earlier. High–backed walls created acoustic privacy. 

Riley approached with measured steps. Everything about her posture screamed caution. 

“Riley.” I motioned toward the vacant seat. “I appreciate you making time.” 

“Like I had much choice?” She lowered herself carefully into the booth. 

“Everyone’s got choices,” Marcus replied, though we all recognized the lie threading through those words. 

A waitress materialized. Riley requested coffee, her trembling hands betraying nerves she couldn’t quite mask. 

Scared. 

“You been doing okay?” I eased into things gently. “It must be at least five years since we’ve actually talked.” 

“I’m fine. Work keeps me swamped.” Her responses came clipped, stripped down to bare minimums. 

“Still doing the graphic design thing?” 

“Yep.” 

Marcus withdrew a notepad from his jacket. That simple movement made Riley’s pupils dilate. 

“We’re hoping you can help us understand some things about Laila,” I said, monitoring every micro–expression crossing her face. 

Riley’s features settled into practiced neutrality. “What’s there to understand?” 

“When’d you last see her?” 

“The same time you last saw her. The day she walked away from the pack. Six years back.” Zero hesitation, like she’d been drilling this answer for months. 

“You haven’t heard from her since then?” 

“No.” 

Too fast. Way too certain. 

“Strikes me as weird,” Marcus cut in. “You two were practically sisters growing up. Then suddenly nothing? No phone calls, no texts, no birthday messages?” 

Riley’s jaw muscles contracted. “People grow apart sometimes. She wanted a clean break, and I respected that boundary.” 

I shifted forward, allowing just a whisper of Alpha presence to leak into the space separating us. Nothing overtly threatening, just enough to remind her whose questions she was dodging. 

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“Let’s shift gears and discuss Vanessa,” I said, pivoting without warning. 

Riley blinked hard. Genuine confusion rippled across her expression. “Who’s that?” “Vanessa Harper. She runs that tech consulting firm downtown. You know her?” 

“Oh! Yeah, actually–we’re friends.” Riley’s shoulders dropped fractionally. “I met her a while back. Why’re you asking?” 

“How’d that meeting happen?” 

“Random encounter at a café. Started chatting, discovered we clicked.” 

“When specifically?” 

Riley’s forehead creased. “I don’t know exactly. Three years ago, maybe? Could’ve been four.” 

I amplified the Alpha pressure saturating the booth. Subtle but impossible to ignore. Riley’s hands resumed their trembling, and she wrapped both palms around her coffee mug. 

“That’s interesting timing,” I murmured. “Three or four years after Laila vanished.” 

“I’m not seeing the connection.” 

“No?” I maintained unblinking eye contact. 

Marcus slid a photograph across the table. Vanessa at some industry conference, looking polished in a tailored suit. 

“Is this your friend Vanessa?” 

Riley glanced down briefly. “That’s her.” 

“Look again.” I nudged the photo closer. “Really look this time.” 

She did, and her confusion appeared authentic. 

“She’s got some resemblance to Laila, I guess,” Riley conceded slowly. Similar coloring maybe? But half the population has brown hair and brown eyes.” 

I produced another photograph–Laila from six years prior. I positioned it directly beside Vanessa’s image. 

“Some resemblance?” Marcus pressed. 

Riley studied both photos carefully. “They’re different women. Vanessa’s got more height on her. Different facial structure entirely. The way she moves through space-” 

“Is Vanessa actually Laila?” I asked point–blank. 

Riley’s head jerked up. “What? That’s insane.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes! I met Vanessa years after Laila left us. They’re completely separate people.” 

The conviction threading through her voice rang strong. Either she genuinely believed her own words, or she’d missed her calling as a Hollywood actress. 

“Tell me about Vanessa’s kid,” I said. 

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Chapter 42 

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Riley’s expression slammed shut immediately. “That’s personal.” 

“Tell me about the father.” 

“I’m not discussing my friend’s private business with you guys.” 

“Why not? Unless there’s something to hide” 

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“Because it’s not MY story to broadcast.” Riley’s voice hardened to flint. “I violate Vanessa’s privacy just because you’ve developed some weird curiosity about her personal life.” 

I cranked up the pressure another notch. The air grew thick with dominance. 

Riley’s hands shook violently now, but she held her ground. 

“Who’s William Chen to her?” I demanded. 

“Her friend.” 

“Just friends?” 

સની લીયોને સલામત નથી 

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