The Alphas Claim From Island Dreams to Moonlit Bonds

Five years. That' s how long I' d spent in Paris, dreaming of New York, of the life Liam and I would build.

I was finally back, holding the custom cufflinks for our wedding, ready to surprise him at a fancy hotel where he' d told me to meet him for dinner.

But I got the surprise instead.

I saw him, laughing, his arm around Chloe, his assistant-the same girl who' d made my high school a living hell.

They disappeared into the hotel, and moments later, his call came through, breezy and apologetic. "Something huge has come up. I' m deep in negotiations with a crucial client, I can' t get away. We have to postpone dinner."

A crucial client. In a luxury hotel room.

Then, Chloe' s text: a barrage of photos-Liam kissing her, her in Liam' s shirt, a selfie of them entering the hotel, her lips on his cheek.

Underneath: "Hey old friend, long time no see. I' ve got my eyes on your fiancé, no need to give him up, I' ll just take him."

The initial shock gave way to a cold, clear calm. The love, the devotion-it felt like a stupid joke.

When Liam finally came home, I was packing. He tossed a cheap Eiffel Tower keychain on the table, a souvenir from his "client meeting."

Then I heard his friends, Mark and Josh, laughing in the hallway, letting themselves in.

"Is he still in there with Chloe?" Mark whispered loudly.

"Of course," Josh snickered. "He' s got Ava flying back thinking they' re getting married, while he' s screwing his assistant. He' s a legend."

"He says Ava' s a bore. And she doesn' t have that ugly scar on her back."