The Alpha's Chubby Obsession. novel Chapter 125

Chapter 118

Dylan

Clain

It’s been a month now since I sent Bella to that wretched place, a punishment well-deserved for all

the evil she’s done. I made sure she was treated like the filth she became, something less than a

being, because that’s exactly what she is.

I’d stayed away all this while, not because I didn’t think of her, I did, far too often, but because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t want my wolf surfacing and feeling pity for her fragile frame, not when

she deserved none of it.

The reports I got were enough to keep me calm: she wasn’t eating properly resulting to her being thin, weak, worst of all dirty and unkempt. Barely even looking alive. And yet, hearing it stirred something dangerous inside me, not compassion, no, but the desire to see it for myself. To watch her completely broken. Maybe then, once she’s nothing more than a trembling shell, I’d let her out… and she’d finally learn to submit to my every whim.

I got out of bed, grabbed a shirt, and pulled it over my head before leaving my room. One of the guards waiting nearby straightened immediately.

“Boss, do you need anything?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I’m going to the attic.”

He fell in line behind me as I made my way there. It was a fifteen-minute walk, silent, tense. The moment we arrived, something felt off. Her scent lingered faintly in the air, too faint.

I stepped inside, following the trail toward the small room where she was kept. The smell of decay

mixed with her scent, but… it wasn’t strong enough. My pulse quickened.

Without hesitation, I swung the door open, expecting to see her pathetic self curled in a corner,

filthy, shaking, begging for mercy.

But instead… nothing.

An empty room.

“Bella?” I called, my voice low but sharp. I scanned the corners, but there was no movement, no sound, she wasn’t here and my heart skipped a bit.

“I don’t think she’s here, sir,” the guard said, frowning as he stepped in behind me.

I turned sharply, disbelief clawing at me. “What the fuck, who was in charge of watching her?” I snapped, stepping out of the room, fury bubbling just beneath my skin.

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Clair

“She couldn’t have gone by herself,” I growled, clenching my fists. “Bring every damn one I assigned

to watch her to the main house. Now!”

The guard rushed off, leaving me alone in the hallway. My mind was spinning, she couldn’t have escaped. She was too weak, too broken.

Unless…

I gritted my teeth.

No. If she was dead, they wouldn’t dare dispose of her body without telling me. They know better

than that.

So how the hell did Bella vanish from where I left her?

That crippled, dirty thing couldn’t have walked out of here on her own.

Could she?

Now they all stood before me, the five I had handpicked to watch her. Five people, and somehow,

not one of them noticed she was gone.

They stood in a straight line, heads bowed, their fear thick in the air. I could almost smell it, that nervous scent that always came before punishment.

“How many of you knew Bella was no longer in her room?” My voice was calm, too calm. It was the kind of calm that made them tremble even more.

For a few seconds, no one dared to speak. Then, a small voice broke the silence.

“I-I did,” one of the maids said, her hand shaking as she raised it.

I started walking toward her, slow deliberate steps echoing in the room. “When did you notice it?” I

asked, watching her flinch under my gaze.

“Two days ago, sir,” she whispered, clutching her apron. “When I went to give her bread.”

“Two days,” I repeated, my tone dropping lower. “And you didn’t think to inform me?”

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her head hung lower. My patience thinned.

Then I caught something, a flicker of movement. Another maid, standing two steps away, fighting

to hide the smug curl of her lips.

I turned to her. “You.”

She froze instantly, her face paling. “Sir, I-I don’t know anything,” she stuttered. “I haven’t seen her in

a week. It was her turn to take care of Mrs. Cook.” She pointed toward the first maid, her finger

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trembling.

A pathetic attempt to shift blame.

Clain

Before I could speak again, the door opened and my assistant stepped in, tension written across his face.

“Boss,” he said quietly, “we’ve reviewed the footage. We know what happened.”

The air changed.

The maid who had pointed suddenly gasped, a short, sharp sound of panic. My eyes locked on her, and she began to shake.

A slow, dangerous smile crept across my face. “I think,” I said, stepping closer, “she’s just identified

herself.”

“Indeed” my assistant mutters.

The rest of the maids stood still as statues, their fear thick enough to choke on. And for the first

time in weeks, I felt something stir in my chest, not pity, not confusion. Just cold, simmering rage.

My gaze stayed fixed on the maid as I finally asked the question I’d been dreading. “And what did

she do to my wife?”

There was a long pause before my assistant answered, his tone cautious. “I think she sold Mrs.

Cook, sir.”

A breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding slipped out of me-half relief, half rage. That was better

than death, I thought, because no one got to kill Bella except for me.

I lifted my hand, tilting the maid’s chin up with my index finger until her terrified eyes met mine.

“Tell me,” I said quietly, my voice controlled but cold. “Who did you sell my wife to?”

Her body trembled, and tears began to gather in her eyes. “I-I don’t know, sir. It was some men who

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