Free Web NovelChapter 84: Chapter 84 Missing Alpha
Christina’s POV
I hadn’t slept well.
Cold sheets.
No rest.
Just me and my racing thoughts spinning in endless circles.
By morning light, I spotted Hudson’s shoes by the door - evidence he’d crept in during the dead of night and vanished again before dawn.
"Typical," I muttered, running my finger along the polished leather of his expensive loafers. "The mighty Alpha of Sabreridge pack, too busy to even say hello."
Akira stirred inside me. "Maybe he had an emergency."
"Or maybe he’s avoiding our rehearsals," I countered, feeling a stab of irritation.
When we’d signed our contract marriage, Hudson had made it sound so urgent - crucial for the upcoming Alpha King elections, necessary because of his grandfather’s failing health. Yet here I was, still hadn’t met a single member of his family formally, no public appearances together, no clear timeline for our "relationship" to progress.
"He could at least text," I grumbled, grabbing my coffee mug with more force than necessary.
I buried myself in work over the next few days, camping out at Moss & Flame for ten-hour shifts, hunched over gem settings and wax casts. By the time I dragged myself home each night, I was too exhausted to care about anything, let alone our forgotten rehearsals.
Hudson seemed equally occupied. No sign of him for days. Not even a shadow in the hallway.
Our whole fake marriage and Luna charade? Completely stalled.
Which was fine by me.
Sort of.
Hudson was gorgeous, sure, but practicing intimate moments with someone that attractive without actual benefits was borderline cruel.
At least I had something to celebrate: I’d completed the custom jewelry set for Octavia Grey.
Handcrafted, meticulously set, one-of-a-kind - an absolute showstopper.
Too precious for standard delivery, I took them straight to her agent’s office myself.
Octavia’s eyes lit up instantly. She gasped, lifting the necklace with reverent fingers, letting it catch the light.
"This is so much better than the overpriced garbage those luxury brands churn out," she gushed, clutching my hands tightly. "Honestly, half their designs look like they let a blind pigeon draw them. But this? This is art. I’m wearing this to the festival, period. I’ll be the hottest woman on the red carpet, whether it’s Cannes or Cleveland."
I smiled, basking in her enthusiasm as she admired the jewelry. frёeωebɳovel.com
"Seriously though," she continued, her expression turning serious, "why are you wasting your talent at some obscure studio? I’ve never heard of Nyx Collective. With your skills, you should have your own label."
Her words stung, mostly because they echoed my own thoughts.
When my annual leave officially ended, I reluctantly returned to Nyx. Quitting wasn’t an option yet,partly because Savannah had been the only one willing to hire a fresh graduate nobody. I owed her for that leap of faith.
And partly because I had bigger plans than joining another design house. I wanted my own studio. My rules, my name on the door, my signature on every design.
The only obstacles? Insufficient reputation and capital. freёwebnovel.com
For now.
Nyx Collective was in complete chaos when I arrived. Staff members speed-walked through corridors like Olympic competitors, someone from communications wept into her smoothie, and even Savannah’s typically composed assistant had mascara streaked halfway to her ear.
Tasha at the front desk spotted me first, her blue braids bobbing as she waved.
"Chrissy! You actually came back!" she exclaimed, leaning over the counter. "We had a betting pool going."
"Charming," I replied flatly. "What were the odds?"
"Sixty-forty you’d rage-quit. I had faith though. You owe me coffee."
"I owe you nothing." I gestured toward the frenzied activity. "What’s happening?"
"Total war zone. Violet’s been obsessively tweaking Eliza Black’s designs. Eighteen revisions! Eighteen! Savannah nearly lost it. They finally approved the final version about two hours ago, so everyone’s rushing production. Eliza’s flight leaves at 2 p.m."
I checked my watch: already 10 a.m.
Staff members shouted instructions across the room, frantically packing pieces, checking every clasp and stone under harsh lighting. Someone barked about airport couriers while another demanded a lint roller.
Violet Lin was busy securing boxes within larger boxes, oblivious to my presence. I observed quietly from a distance.
When she briefly opened a lid, I caught a glimpse of the jewelry inside.
It was stunning. Flashy yet tasteful, the kind of piece that makes you pause and admire.
But something about it seemed... familiar. I squinted, trying to get a better look from afar.
Suddenly, Violet noticed me watching and snapped the box shut, whirling to face me. "What the hell are you staring at? Trying to steal my inspiration? Planning to copy me?"
"You seriously think I’d waste time copying your designs?" I scoffed. "What is this, 2005? Get real."
"You—!" Her face contorted with rage.
She turned to the nearest assistant, barking, "Get this to the airport now! If you miss Eliza Black’s flight, you’re personally paying the breach penalties!"
The poor guy trembled, clutching the box like it might explode.
Violet spun back toward me, smirking triumphantly. "Final pieces are done, plenty of time before the flight. No reason to panic."
"Congratulations," I replied dryly.
"I heard Vanna begged you to come help, but you couldn’t be bothered," she sneered. "You were just waiting for me to fail so you could laugh, weren’t you?"
I raised an eyebrow, giving her my best "are you serious" look.
"Sweetie, do you realize how paranoid you sound? Should I be concerned about your mental health or schedule you an appointment myself?"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then why today of all days? You wanted to watch me crash and burn, admit it."
Akira growled low in my mind. "She’s hiding something. I can sense her anxiety."
I silently agreed. Something definitely wasn’t right.
