Free Web NovelChapter 12: Chapter 12 Eviction Notice
Christina’s POV
"This is ridiculous!" Niall sputtered. "Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?"
"Perfectly aware, Alpha Niall. Which is why security is already waiting." He gestured toward the entrance, where two large men in dark suits stood watching.
Beatrice’s face had morphed from smug superiority to shocked disbelief. "This is absurd! We haven’t done anything!"
"Nevertheless, those are my instructions." The manager remained unmoved. "Please exit without further disruption."
Niall’s eyes darted to me, narrowing with suspicion. "You did this."
"I wish I could take credit," I replied honestly. "But this is as surprising to me as it is to you." freewёbnoνel.com
The security guards began moving toward us. Niall’s jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear his teeth cracking, but he knew better than to make a scene. With a final glare that promised future retribution, he took Beatrice’s arm and stalked toward the exit.
The manager turned to me, his demeanor shifting to apologetic. "Ms. Vance, please accept our sincere apologies for the disturbance."
"No apology necessary. That was..." I searched for words. "Impressive."
"Your dinner this evening is, of course, complimentary." He reached into his jacket and produced a black card with the restaurant’s gold logo. "The owner has also instructed me to provide you with this. It ensures priority seating and complimentary dining at any time."
I stared at the card, then back at him. "The owner?"
"Yes, madam.He was quite insistent."
As he departed with a respectful nod, I turned the black VIP card over in my hands, a suspicion forming.
"Girl." Ysolde reached across the table to grab my hand. "Do you know the owner of this place?"
I stared at the black card. "I have absolutely no idea."
With Niall and Beatrice gone, the tension finally lifted from our table.
"Well, that was better than dinner theater," Ysolde said, raising her wine glass. "To mysterious benefactors and perfect timing."
I clinked my glass against hers, savoring the moment. "I still can’t believe that just happened."
"Your mysterious neighbor wouldn’t happen to own French restaurants, would he?" Ysolde smirked.
"Don’t be ridiculous," I laughed, though something nagged at me. "He’s just my neighbor."
"Right. Just a coincidence," Ysolde said, clearly not buying it.
An hour later, I stood outside my apartment building, fumbling for my keys. The evening had been perfect—too perfect, maybe.
That’s when I noticed him. Standing outside my apartment door was Mr. Donnelly, my landlord, a fifty-something man who perpetually smelled like microwaved shepherd’s pie and made questionable fashion choices—like today’s socks-with-sandals combo that screamed "I’ve given up on impressing anyone."
"Ah, Miss Vance," he said, shuffling awkwardly. "I was hoping to catch you."
I forced a smile. "Mr. Donnelly. What a surprise."
Akira growled inside me. She never liked him, saying he smelled like deceit and processed cheese.
"Yeah, well..." He rubbed his hands together, avoiding my eyes. "Look, there’s been a problem with the building."
"A problem," I repeated flatly.
"Some structural stuff came up. Real sudden, you know? Safety issues and all that." He still wouldn’t look at me directly. "I’m sure you get it."
"Structural problems. In a building that was just inspected three months ago."
He tugged at his collar. "Yes, well, these things can develop quickly."
"Like a rash after cheap seafood?"
Mr. Donnelly blinked rapidly."Bottom line is, your apartment needs to be empty for... uh, repairs. We need you out by the weekend.
And there he was—my father, working his magic like a vindictive warlock. But his blessing was a curse, transforming my life not into a dream, but a dumpster fire. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
"Just my apartment?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"For now," he mumbled.
I could fight it. Could threaten legal action, demand proper notice. But what was the point? My father was The Crescent Pack’s Alpha. One phone call from him was worth more than any tenant protection law in existence.
"Two days," I nodded calmly. "I’ll be out by then."
Mr. Donnelly looked so relieved you’d think I’d just offered him a kidney. "Thank you for understanding, Miss Vance. That’s just business, I’m afraid."
"Yes," I smiled tightly. "Just business."
After he scurried away like a man who’d narrowly escaped a firing squad, I leaned against my door and let out a long breath.
"Well, Akira, looks like Dad’s making good on his threats," I muttered.
"He’s weak," my wolf responded. "Using others to fight his battles."
Finding another apartment wasn’t the issue. I had enough saved to afford something decent—maybe even nicer than this place. The problem was what came next. If my father was willing to get me evicted, what else would he do? Get me blacklisted from every property management company in the city? Have my car mysteriously towed? Arrange for pigeons to specifically target me with their droppings?
I was halfway through mentally cataloging my jewelry-making supplies and wondering if my next landlord would allow me to use a soldering iron in their living room when it struck me.
"Shit," I whispered, suddenly remembering something critical.
I’d agreed to a fake engagement with my insanely hot neighbor, and I didn’t even know his full name or pack affiliation.
I’d been so desperate to escape my father’s matchmaking that I’d jumped from the frying pan straight into a mystery fire.
Absolutely genius.
In my defense, I’d been somewhat distracted during our conversation, primarily by how his dress shirt stretched across those broad shoulders.
Not to mention the extremely inconvenient and disturbingly clear memories of that evening at the hotel. The one filled with hazy recollections and that completely unwelcome surge of desire.
So when he began outlining the specifics of our agreement, I found myself fixated on his lips, wondering if they would still taste the same, rather than absorbing any actual information.
Nevertheless. A small oversight.
I glanced at his door across the hall. No lights on. Probably not home.
I hastily wrote a message.
"Hi, my future mate-to-be. Turns out I’m being evicted in two days (long story involving an annoying Alpha father). If you’re still interested in our "arrangement," here’s my number. Let me know soon if you want to continue our fake engagement plan. Christina"
I folded the note and slid it under his door, hoping I wasn’t making another catastrophic life decision. But really, what was one more at this point?
Back in my apartment, I opened my laptop and started a search for "apartments that won’t destroy what’s left of my life." The results were less than inspiring.
Just as I was buried in a bag of cheese chips, trying to forget about my miserable life by watching a cheerful baking show,my phone rang.
Niall’s name flashed on the screen.
Any other day, I would have let it go to voicemail, but I was still riding the high of watching him get humiliated at La Vache Dorée. Curiosity won out.
"What," I answered flatly.
"Dinner tomorrow night at my pack house. My mother wants to see you."
No hello. No how are you. Just demands, as if nothing had changed between us. Classic Alpha Niall.
"Wow, your memory is as defective as your moral compass," I replied. "We’re not engaged anymore, remember? You slapped me, rejected me, and oh—you’ve been sleeping with my sister. Ring any bells?"
"Look,my mother misses you. She’s been asking about you."
