Filed To Story: Mated to Two Bad Boy Alphas Book PDF Free by Jamersy
Zane leaned forward, his tone calm but unwavering. “This isn’t trouble she left. She’s still here. Selene never went back.”
His head jerked up. “What? Still?”
“Yeah. She’s still on earth,” I said, my voice tightening. “She took the form of my adoptive mom so she could stay with my dad. She’s torn apart inside. Broken. She wants the love you never gave her, and she’s trying to start over in someone else’s life.
His breath hitched, heart racing. His hands curled into fists against the table.
“She misses you,” I said, softer now. “Even if she won’t admit it. Even if she twisted it all into something else. Deep down, she still loves you. But you’re the only one who can fix this. If you talk to her, if you apologise, maybe she’ll forgive you. Maybe she’ll heal.”
The silence stretched. Zane didn’t move, didn’t interrupt.
Finally, the man let out a long, uneven breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking. To face her again after everything…”
“I do know,” I said quickly. “I know because I’ve lived in the middle of it. She took my mom’s place. She tried to kill her. It’s about her and you. If you don’t come, she’ll stay broken. And she’ll drag the world down with her. When I saw you in that vision, it seemed like you love me.” My voice broke, tears filling my eyes. “So help me, Dad.”
His gaze dropped. He shook his head slowly, like the weight of years pressed down on him. Then he looked back up.
“I did,” he whispered. “Always have. And always will. You’re my daughter. My blood. I never wanted to give you away…”
“Lia,” I said. “My name is Lia. And what you’re saying only matters if you’ll help.”
He stared at me, still considering, still thinking.
Then he sighed.
“Fine. I’ll come with you. I’ll face Selene. One last time.”
I let out a breath.
Zane’s hand brushed mine under the table, steady and grounding.
This was only the first step.
But for the first time since we started, it felt like there was a chance.
-DAVE’S POV-
The TV hummed low in the background, filling the lounge with that kind of cozy feeling that always made me drowsy.
Carol was curled up against me, her head resting against my chest, her breath slow and warm. I had my arm around her, keeping her close. She smelled amazing, like always, her hair soft and shiny. Her gaze was on the TV, while mine was on her.
My wonderful wife.
The woman I’d loved for as long as I could remember.
In the last two weeks, she had been different.
In the best ways possible.
Carol hated cooking anything other than pancakes. For years, she’d avoided it whenever she could, and we survived mostly on takeout or my half-hearted attempts. The only time she’d cook full meals was when we were having guests over.
But now, she was in the kitchen every night, humming while she cooked like it was second nature. It didn’t taste as good as it used to when she cooked occasionally, but it was still incredible. Comforting, like being taken care of.
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She used to complain about ironing-said it was the most boring chore in the world. Lately, she’d been offering to press my shirts before I even asked.
Even in bed… yeah. That was different too. More passion. Like she was discovering me for the first time all over again. It was great. Fantastic.
But in the last two days, it had stopped feeling like her. Like Carol.
It was stupid, the thought. It was her, after all. She was right here. My wife.
But still, a part of me couldn’t shake this feeling.
It began when I mentioned one of her old friends, and the look on her face made it seem like she had no idea who I meant. She remembered quickly after, smiling and nodding, but it left an odd taste in my mouth.
Last night, she sat down with me, asking to hear the entire story of how I fell in love with her.
She would do that often, but twenty years ago. Not anymore.
Her demanding for it again almost made it feel like she was forgetting. Like she needed someone to tell her.
Carol let out a small laugh against my chest, pulling me back into the moment. I glanced at the screen.
The movie was ending.
A Sweet Life. One of Carol’s favourite movies to bore me with. Today, I’d been the one to suggest it, hoping to doze off to it.
My heart gave a jolt when I looked at her face.
Carol wasn’t crying.
She always cried during this one. Always.
I’d seen it with her maybe a dozen times over the years, and it never changed. In this scene in particular, when the lead visits the dog’s grave, she’d break down completely. I’d have to hold her, calm her, sometimes even switch the TV off before she lost it.
But tonight? Nothing. She was smiling.
Like it was just another movie.
Something in my stomach twisted, sharp and uneasy.
Her head lifted right away, like she felt it. Those eyes found mine, soft and innocent, “What’s wrong, Dave?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, forcing a smile. My throat was a little dry.
I slid my arm away and stood up. She stayed seated on the sofa, legs crossed neatly, watching me with that small smile still playing on her lips.
Why was she always smiling nowadays?
A month ago, I’d breathe wrong and she’d start grumbling. It wasn’t anything serious, just our usual banter.
But she’d stopped now. Like she thought I was the most perfect man in the world.
I wasn’t.
My eyes focused on her hair.
The twists weren’t the way she usually did them. Carol always had a specific way-tight, even, pulled just so. Tonight,
Tonight, they were looser. Different.
I squinted, pointing without thinking. “Your hair looks different, it’s too messy.”
And then I blinked.
The twists were perfect again. Fixed, like nothing had changed.
My skin prickled.
“Really?” she said, touching them. “I don’t think so. I did them as I usually do.”
Was I imagining things? What was wrong with me?
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered.
“Why? Where are you going?” she asked, getting off the couch.
“Washroom, honey. I’ll be back.”
I turned away from her, letting out a breath and walking away. I shut the door behind me, glancing in the mirror.
Something felt wrong.
Almost as if…
No. That was not possible. This was real life. Not some movie about the supernatural.
I splashed cold water onto my face, then patted it dry. I was the perfect example of a man not appreciating his blessings. I had a wonderful wife who was trying to do more for me. I had to stop overthinking everything.
I stepped out of the washroom and entered the lounge again, plastering a smile onto my face.
But my breath caught as soon as I saw her-standing near the window, staring out at the sky, wearing my Carol’s clothes, but not her.
In her place was the woman who had come to our house two weeks ago.