Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 275: The River Took Her First

I video call Mrs. Lambert almost every night.

Grandma can sit up in a wheelchair now. Her eyes are clearer. Her face is no longer blank and lost like before. Her words still come out slow and heavy, but her spirit is awake. I can see it in the way her fingers move, in the way she looks at me like she recognizes everything.

Camilla hated Grandma.

And the thing she feared most... was Grandma waking up.

Lewis and I had already decided.

If a snake hides in darkness, you shine a light and make it panic. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

The next morning, I woke up feeling lighter than I had in months. Grandma was coming home today. Even if this was part of a trap, I was still happy. She had always treated me gently. She was the only elder in that house who looked at me like I belonged.

If she saw how strong I am now... she would be proud.

"Lewis," I asked while looking at myself in the mirror, "is this makeup too light? I look a little pale. Grandma’s coming home. I want to look my best."

Lewis stood near the wardrobe, fastening his watch slowly. Every movement he made was calm and powerful. Controlled.

People at school loved to whisper about our bond. They turned it into a story about a powerful Alpha bound to a fragile young mate. About how I married into strength.

They didn’t understand.

They didn’t see the way his presence fills a room. The way his quiet dominance settles in my bones and makes me feel safe.

He walked over and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me gently closer. His eyes studied my face like he was memorizing it.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "A little too pale."

"Then I’ll change the shade "

Before I could finish, his mouth was on mine.

He pressed me back against the open wardrobe. The air inside the closet was warm and tight. My fingers grabbed his tie instinctively. My breath tangled with his.

"L–Lewis..."

His hands tightened around me. His energy shifted, deeper, heavier. It wasn’t aggression. It was instinct. The kind that rises when a mate has been neglected too long.

"Elena," he murmured against my lips, voice low and rough, "be a good girl and relax."

These past weeks, I had been drowning in work. Meetings. Contracts. Negotiations. Endless pack politics. By the time I returned home, I collapsed into bed without even thinking.

Some nights, I didn’t even remember how I got there.

He carried me to the bath. Washed my hair. Dried me gently. Tucked me in.

We were bonded. Married.

Yet we hadn’t had a moment alone like this in so long.

My back hit the wardrobe wall softly. A silk nightgown slipped off its hanger and fell over us, covering our faces like a curtain. I could only hear his breathing.

"Elena..."

The world narrowed to heat and heartbeat.

When it was over, my face was flushed and my stockings were torn.

He brushed his thumb over my lips, smiling faintly. "There. Now you look better."

I glared at him, embarrassed. "You’ve developed some bad habits."

Then I looked down at my ruined stockings and pouted. "These cost 2,800 dollars. You’re paying for them."

His mood was bright, satisfied. "Alright. My fault. I’ll buy you as many as you want."

Then I suddenly stiffened. "You didn’t use protection."

He didn’t even look worried. "It’s fine. I calculated it. You’re in your safe period."

Before I could argue, there was a knock at the door.

Theo’s voice came through, tight.

"Mrs. Riley... Lincy’s dead."

My smile disappeared instantly.

Dead?

By the time we arrived, the police had already pulled her body from the river.

The water had bloated her skin. There were wounds across her arms and legs. A white cloth covered her face, but I could still see the shape of her.

Last night, she was clinging to my car door.

Begging.

Grant was already there. He was supposed to leave Snowville today to go back to Mom. Instead, he stood beside the river in silence.

The police brought us in for questioning because Lincy had contacted us before she died.

Last night, Grant had said that if she died, he would bury her properly.

Sometimes words turn into curses.

None of us expected it to happen this fast.

At the station, we gave our statements. Surveillance showed we only spoke to her briefly before leaving. No motive. No physical contact.

Before we left, I quietly asked Nelson, "Did she jump into the river herself? She said she couldn’t live without money."

Nelson glanced around before lowering his voice.

"No. It wasn’t suicide. It was murder."

My chest tightened.

"Murder?"

"She was tortured before she died."

My mind went blank for a second.

"What kind of torture? Her body looked intact."

Nelson’s voice dropped further. "She was assaulted before death. Some organs were removed and forced back inside. There’s a mark on her neck. She died from suffocation. Then her body was dumped in the river."

I swallowed.

I always knew Lincy’s end wouldn’t be good. I thought she would spend years running from debt, hiding from angry men.

I didn’t think she would die like this.

"So who killed her?"

"We arrested her boyfriend, Yenick. He had motive."

"No," I said immediately. "Yenick needed her alive. She owed him money. If powerful men were involved, they wouldn’t dump her body so carelessly."

Nelson looked at me sharply. "You have another idea?"

I did.

There was someone else who hated Lincy deeply.

Camilla.

"Camilla?" Nelson frowned. "Why would she kill Lincy?"

"Because Lincy exposed her affair at the wedding. Her pregnancy became public. Her plan collapsed."

And Silas.

He was exposed at that wedding. Later, he ended his life.

If Camilla grieved him, she would eventually look for someone to blame.

I always had bodyguards. She couldn’t reach me easily.

Lincy was alone.

"She’s good at disguising herself," I added quietly. "If you check footage carefully, you’ll find her."

Nelson nodded. "Let’s review."

We pulled up last night’s surveillance.

The lighting outside the restaurant had been dim. When Lincy was kneeling in front of us, crying, none of us noticed the shadow near the trees.

But now I saw her.

A woman standing under a tree behind the car.

Still.

Watching.

Even though she was covered from head to toe, I knew that posture. That tension. That gaze filled with something dark and bitter.

My breath caught.

"It’s her," I whispered.

"It’s Camilla."

She hadn’t disappeared.

She had crawled out of hell.