Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 219: Stress Relief

All the emotions that had been twisting inside me for days disappeared during that night at home. My thoughts, which had felt like tangled threads, finally loosened. In my eyes, my heart, and my mind, there was only Lewis.

I was grateful grateful I got a second chance, grateful I didn’t have to keep drowning in the past, grateful I had found the kind of love that felt real and steady.

In his arms, I felt safe. Close to him like that, I knew something with quiet certainty.

I would never be alone again.

Late into the night, after I finished showering, Lewis pulled me close and kissed my forehead softly. We held each other until sleep took us.

That night, I slept peacefully.

While I was sure others lay awake, restless and lonely.

The next morning, Grant the same man who lived in his office didn’t go to work.

When I arrived at Mom’s house, the servants were nowhere in sight. The house was unusually quiet. I followed the faint sound from the kitchen and stopped at the doorway.

Grant’s tall figure stood over the stove. He was wearing an apron, his sleeves rolled up. He looked awkward, like the apron didn’t belong on him. He was trying to fry eggs, but the oil was popping violently.

Water hit the hot pan and the oil splattered everywhere. Grant jerked back too late. I saw blisters on his forearm where the sleeve ended. A plate beside him was piled with ruined eggs burnt, broken, and hopeless.

I sighed. "Let me."

I stepped in, turned off the heat, and pushed the pan away from him. I scraped the burned eggs out, drained the oil, and rinsed the pan quickly. Then I set it back on the stove and looked at him.

"Don’t let water touch the pan once you add oil," I said, keeping my voice steady. "That’s why it splatters. And once the oil is hot, lower the heat. Otherwise everything burns." I pointed at the stove. "Like this."

In a few minutes, I made one clean, perfect egg.

Grant stared at it like it had personally insulted him. His face was tense defeated and frustrated at the same time. "Do you think I’m useless?" he asked quietly. "Like I can’t even do something so simple?"

After what happened last night, he looked different. His usual confidence was gone. He seemed deflated, helpless, and strangely sad.

"It’s not hard," I said, softer now. "You’ve just never cooked before. And you’re smart, Dad. You run a whole company. You’ll get the hang of an egg too." I nudged the spatula toward him. "Go on. Try again."

I knew why he was doing this. He was trying clumsily, too late, but still trying to act like a husband for these last few days. He wanted to do something for my mother before she walked away for good.

So I stayed quiet and guided him patiently, step by step.

A man who had been served his whole life was now learning, at the end of it, how to take care of someone else. Maybe it was his way of paying for all the regret he carried.

As I walked out of the kitchen, I glanced back at him standing over the stove, blinking through the oil fumes.

People always realize what they’ve done wrong after they’ve already lost what mattered.

If he had humbled himself back then if he had chosen gentleness instead of control my mother might have been moved.

But life doesn’t work like that. You only understand the road after you’ve already walked it.

I watched him carry the breakfast he made upstairs, holding the plate like it was something fragile. Then I sat down with a book and waited.

After a while, he came back downstairs. His eyes found mine immediately. He didn’t waste time.

"I’ve agreed to your request," he said. "Now tell me. What’s really going on with this food?"

He had seen the medical report. It showed drugs, not poison. That was why he was confused. In his mind, Lincy could be selfish, rude, spoiled... but not dangerous.

Who expects their own daughter to harm them?

I explained calmly, "It’s a banned drug. It was once used for brain disorders, but the side effects are too severe, so it got taken off the market. If a healthy person takes it long-term, it can cause nerve damage. Hallucinations. Confusion. Memory loss. Even muscle stiffness."

For once, he didn’t immediately deny me or rush to defend Lincy. He pulled out a cigarette, then paused when he saw me watching and shoved it back into the pack.

"You came prepared," he said, voice rough. "Don’t keep me waiting."

I didn’t soften it. "Lincy is trying to harm you. But strictly speaking, it’s Monica. She’s afraid you’ll return to our family. She’s afraid the child my mother is carrying will threaten her." I held his gaze. "Do you remember the child at the wedding banquet? They paid that child to bump into my mother’s stomach. They were trying to cause a miscarriage."

Grant didn’t look shocked. If anything, his face said he had already smelled something rotten.

Of course he wasn’t a fool.

He was a jerk, yes but not a fool.

I could tell he had probably started investigating last night. In the past, he indulged Lincy with money. But with Monica, he was generous without being emotionally invested. If he truly loved Monica, she wouldn’t have needed to cling to another man for attention.

Grant never gave her emotional comfort. Monica had to flatter him, feed his ego, keep him satisfied. A few sweet words from someone like Zack could easily trap a woman who was already starving emotionally.

And because Grant didn’t really care, he didn’t watch closely. That was why Monica’s affairs slipped past him for so long.

Grant sat there in silence, shoulders heavy.

"Lincy was forced?" he asked finally, voice tired.

"I don’t know," I admitted. "Lincy has a mischievous side, but I don’t think she could plan something like this alone. Still... I can’t be completely sure."

His craving hit again. He took out the cigarette he’d put away and held it between his lips. He didn’t light it, just kept it there like a bad habit he needed to chew on.

"Go on," he said quietly. "What else did you find?"

He looked dejected, like after agreeing to divorce my mother, nothing else in life mattered anymore.

I studied him. I hesitated, just for a moment.

Should I drop the truth now?

He caught my pause. "I’m not a child," he said, voice sharp. "You don’t have to hesitate. I can handle it."

So I said it.

"What if I told you... Lincy isn’t your biological daughter?"

I didn’t cushion the blow. I went straight through it.

His cigarette fell from his mouth and hit the floor. His head snapped up, eyes wide, stunned. "What did you say?"

I pulled out the paternity results I had prepared earlier and placed them in front of him. "Lincy is not your daughter with Monica. This is the paternity test. If you don’t believe it, you can retest it."

Grant’s hands trembled as he picked up the report.

Maybe he suspected Monica had cheated. But he had never questioned Lincy. Lincy had always been sweet to him, dependent on him, clinging to him like he was her whole world. And Grant... Grant had given her the only genuine love he had left.

He had even condemned his own biological daughter more than once, just to protect Lincy.

Now, hearing that Lincy wasn’t his child at all

It hit him harder than anything else.

He stared at the report for a long time, reading it again and again like the words might change if he looked hard enough. He refused to accept it. He couldn’t.

I watched his fingers curl slowly around the paper. The veins on the back of his hand rose as he fought to keep control.

Then

Bang.

His fist slammed onto the tempered glass coffee table with a loud crash that shook the room.