Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10: BIANCA

Three hands, linked together on what I recognized as our kitchen table.

The caption read: “Starting the day with my favorite men. Grateful for every moment.

My favorite men. As if they belonged to her..

I stared at the screen as I walked toward the hospital entrance, my vision blurring with tears I absolutely refused to let fall.

I didn’t see the man until I collided with him.

It was like walking into a wall. His hand shot out automatically, catching my waist to steady me even as my phone clattered to the concrete.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t-” I started, as I pulled away regaining my footing before bending down to pick my phone at the same moment he did.

He got there first. As he straightened and handed it back to me, I saw his eyes move to the screen–to Mia’s post, still displayed there, that image of three linked hands burning into my retinas.

Something flickered across his face. Probably pity But it was gone before I could identify it.

“My fault entirely,” he said, his voice deep and sounded familiar even though I was certain we’d never met.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No, I thank you-“I clutched my phone, suddenly hyperaware that a strange Alpha had just seen evidence of, my failing marriage, playing out on social media.

Then he was gone, and I was left standing in the entrance with my phone still displaying that damning image.

I deleted the notification with more force than necessary and shoved the phone into my pocket.

Inside, the hospital was buzzing with an energy I didn’t recognize. Nurses were gathered near the main station, eagerly gossiping instead of focusing on their jobs.

“mysterious Alpha” one was saying as I approached.

“nobody knows who’s treating him” another added.

“private wing, completely cordoned off”

From what I could put together, from Louis’s stories. He came early in the mornings or late at night, always just missing my rounds. But the evidence of his presence was everywhere: the expensive superhero decorations covering every surface, the latest tablets and games, the premium suite that looked more like a child’s dream bedroom than a hospital room.

“I’m sure he is,” I said gently, guiding Louis back to his bed. “But right now, I need to check how you’re doing. Think you can be brave for me?”

“Always brave,” Louis declared, puffing out his small chest even as he obediently climbed onto the bed.

I pulled out my stethoscope and began my examination, running through the routine I’d performed dozens of times. But as I listened to his heartbeat, checked his reflexes, nagging feeling I’d had for weeks intensified into something I couldn’t ignore anymore.

Louis’s symptoms didn’t match any known condition. His test results were contradictory–some markers elevated when they should be normal, others perfectly fine when the symptoms suggested they should be concerning. His energy fluctuated wildly, sometimes seeming perfectly healthy, other times so drained he could barely sit up.

And there was something else, something I’d been sensing but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge because it would mean using an ability I kept carefully hidden.

I could feel something wrong with Louis’s aura. Something unnatural suppressing his body’s ability to heal itself, like a weight pressing down on his natural vitality.

“Louis,” I said carefully, finishing my examination and pulling up a chair beside his bed. “I want to try something different today. A different kind of healing. But I need you to be very still and very quiet. Can you do that for me?”

His eyes went wide, but he nodded solemnly. “Will it hurt?”