Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 100: Doctor’s Truth

The screen behind me flickered again, then settled on something I had kept buried for years.

A medical report.

My name sat at the top. The date was clear. Three years ago. Long before tonight. Long before any of this chaos.

It wasn’t a single page. It was everything. Evaluations. Prescriptions. Therapy notes. Follow-ups. Line after line of proof that couldn’t be brushed away.

The air changed.

Lewis had already planned ahead. Clear copies were passed quietly to several people in the room. I felt it before anyone spoke. That heavy silence. The kind that presses on your chest.

Vivian grabbed one of the papers. Her fingers shook as she read. Her lips parted.

"No... this isn’t possible," she whispered. "Elena...?"

Her voice cracked.

Shock slid into guilt. Guilt into grief. Whatever image she had held onto for years shattered right there in her hands.

I wondered if she was finally seeing it. All the times I was ignored. How praise always went to Camilla. How my pain was brushed off like weakness. Like inconvenience.

Every sharp word. Every cold glance. Every celebration I stood outside of.

They cut me again and again, then turned their backs, never once checking if I was still standing.

The jokes. The smiles. The way they dismissed me. All of it echoed through the nights I lay awake, staring into the dark.

The things I gave up for Camilla’s sake became shadows that never left me.

The sleepless nights. The hair left in the sink. The fog in my head. The loneliness that sat heavy on my chest, day after day.

Julian didn’t move. He stared at the papers like they might burn him. His face went pale, then dark. For the first time, it looked like something had finally sunk in. Maybe he was seeing what he chose not to see back then.

The room began to stir.

"So this is real?"

"Camilla... are you really S or not? Say something!"

All eyes locked on the stage. Not just the Morrigans. The Ashbournes. The Hudsons. Even Julian.

The silence was suffocating.

Camilla was cornered. No path forward. No way back.

Still, she lifted her chin.

She laughed softly. "It’s just paper," she said. "Anyone can fake documents these days. Photoshop exists, doesn’t it? She probably spent weeks making this to frame me."

Then she shifted, smooth as ever. Her voice softened, turned wounded.

"Ms. Ashbourne, what did I ever do to you? I treated you kindly. Yet you keep trying to destroy me. First, you forced me out of the Hale home. Now this. All because I’m marrying your ex? This is cruel."

She was good at this.

Just a few words, and suddenly I was the jealous one. The bitter one.

Whispers spread.

"She came prepared."

"Those papers could be fake."

"She already won first place. Why push this far?"

"Poor Camilla... losing a sister, now this?"

Their doubt scratched at old scars. I’d heard it all before.

But this time, I didn’t waver.

If I hadn’t lived through her lies once already, maybe I wouldn’t have planned this so carefully. Maybe I would’ve stopped earlier.

I held her gaze and spoke evenly, keeping my tone calm.

"Ms. Morrigan, I knew you would deny everything. That’s why I didn’t come alone. I brought someone who knew Elena better than anyone else. Her doctor."

The room went dead quiet.

It felt like the air itself had stilled, like a pack sensing danger all at once.

"What did she just say?" someone whispered.

"She brought the doctor?"

"This is bad. This is really bad."

The Morrigans froze. For the first time, their confidence cracked. I could almost feel the shift in the room, that uneasy pull when dominance starts to slip.

A man stepped forward. Light blue shirt. White coat. Calm steps. The kind of presence that didn’t need to raise its voice to be obeyed.

People started murmuring.

"Isn’t that Dr. Sergio Zimmer?"

"That famous mind healer?"

"He wrote Facing the Shadows. I’ve read that book."

Dr. Zimmer adjusted his glasses and stood at the mic. His voice was steady, controlled.

"Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Sergio Zimmer. Ms. Ashbourne invited me here to clarify a few truths."

Someone called out, "Doctor, are you here because of Elena? Were you treating her?"

He paused. Just for a breath. Then his voice dropped, colder.

"Yes. I was. I didn’t even learn of her death until I returned from overseas. Finding out this way was... painful. She carried wounds most people never saw. And now she’s gone without being heard. That’s why I’m standing here today."

Vivian stepped forward, her hands shaking, eyes red. She clung to hope like it might still save her.

"Doctor... please tell me. Was my daughter truly suffering?"

He met her eyes without flinching.

"Yes. I first met Elena three years ago. Her pain was subtle then. We spoke briefly at a charity gathering. I offered advice. Weeks later, she came to my clinic on her own. Something inside her had dimmed. She asked to be evaluated."

He looked down for a moment, as if remembering her voice.

"From that day on, she was under my care. We tried many treatments. Sessions. Medicine. Guidance. But her condition worsened. Slowly. Quietly. She carried a weight that grew heavier every year. And no one close to her noticed."

He turned toward the Morrigans. His tone sharpened.

"Where was her family? Where was the pack she was born into? How did none of you sense her fading?"

No one answered. No one could.

His words didn’t come from anger. They came from authority. The kind that makes instincts bow.

He continued, "I encouraged her to paint. It became her outlet. Her refuge. But over time, even that turned painful. Every canvas held her sorrow. Every stroke was a cry she couldn’t voice."

Someone asked, "Doctor... you’ve seen her work? You knew the artist called S?"

"Yes," he said. "I watched her create. She gifted me several pieces. I kept them because they held her heart. And seeing those same works claimed by others, sold for pride and status... especially by her own sister... it’s disgraceful."

He turned his gaze to Camilla.

The room felt tight. Heavy.

"She isn’t just lying," he said coldly. "She lacks any bond. Any conscience."

Camilla stood there, stiff and pale, the strength she’d borrowed from the crowd finally gone.

And I knew then

the truth had found its teeth.