Claiming Emerald: Four Alphas At Her Feet
Chapter 89: What Could Have Been...

Chapter 89: What Could Have Been...

Rick opened the door to Alia’s chambers with a quiet sigh, stepping into the scent of fresh lilacs and lavender oils.

The curtains were half drawn, casting soft golden stripes across the bed where she lay, curled up like a porcelain doll. She looked fragile. Too fragile.

He paused, guilt clawing quietly at his chest. He hadn’t been here for her... not really. Not like before... not since... No. He pushed that thought down.

She was facing the wall, her back turned to him. Was she asleep? He couldn’t tell from this spot. "Alia?" he said softly.

There was no response. But Rick could tell her breathing had changed a bit... it was too shallow for her to be in deep sleep.

He stepped closer and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. "I know you’re awake."

Her eyes fluttered open, hazel orbs glistening beneath thick lashes. They locked on his face with a startled softness... an act of innocence she’d come to perfect over the years.

"Rick?" she whispered, voice coated in hoarse vulnerability.

His brows pulled together slightly. She looked thinner. Paler. The air around her seemed brittle.

"I came to check on you," he said, brushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "I know I haven’t been around lately, and that’s on me."

She blinked quickly and then... just as rehearsed, her lower lip trembled. "You’ve been... busy," she murmured. "I didn’t want to burden you."

"Alia..."

"No," she said, sitting up slowly and wrapping her arms around herself. "You don’t have to explain. I’m not stupid. I can feel when someone’s pulling away."

His jaw tightened.

She turned her face to the wall again, but he saw the tears sliding down her cheeks.

"I... I just want to know," she choked, "do you not love me anymore?"

Rick inhaled sharply, but he couldn’t answer.

Not with the image of Emerald still etched in his mind, glowing like firelight in the storm that had become his thoughts.

It wasn’t love... not really.

It was the burn of possession, the maddening envy that twisted in his gut every time he saw her with those three Alphas. His discarded Luna, now a Queen, and worse, desired by men more powerful than he could ever be.

He shouldn’t have let her go after punishing her, shouldn’t have banished her. He should’ve known she was someone else, but he didn’t. Now, he could only watch her rise from the ashes like something immortal.

Alia reached out, clutching his sleeve. "Don’t lie to me," her voice sounded sharp now, breaking through the sadness. "Tell me the truth, Rick. Am I just a shadow in your bed now?"

Rick cupped her cheek. "Alia... you’ve been through hell. I shouldn’t have snapped at you the other day. That was wrong."

She leaned into his touch, tears glistening.

"And I really want to make it up to you. So... how does dinner sound? Tonight? Just us? Like it used to be?"

Her face lit up. "Really?"

He nodded. "Let’s have one night together."

"Just the two of us, no interruption or anything?"

Rick nodded. "Just us."

A soft, relieved sob left her lips as she threw her arms around him. He stiffened briefly before pulling her close. She nestled against his chest, fingers curling around his shirt.

"If the accident hadn’t happened..." she whispered against him. "We’d have had a child by now. A family."

Rick’s arms stiffened again, but she didn’t let go.

Her hand drifted to her stomach and rested there. "I still feel the emptiness, you know? Every morning. I wake up and it’s... still gone."

Rick closed his eyes.

"And it wasn’t just an accident," she added, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "You know whose fault it was."

Rick’s gaze darkened. "Emerald."

Alia said nothing... she didn’t have to. She only pressed her head to his chest again, her silent tears soaking his shirt.

—

Later that evening, Rick stood in his private study, staring at the rosewood mirror. He adjusted the collar of his black button-down shirt and straightened the cuffs. The wine had already been decanted, the candlelit spread prepared, and the servants instructed not to interrupt.

He should’ve been looking forward to this.

But instead, he kept thinking about what Alia had said... about the child, about love. And yet... why did Alia’s voice sound so rehearsed lately?

Shaking the doubt off, he turned toward the door. "She’s still grieving," he muttered to himself. "Don’t be cruel."

Still, as he walked back to her room, something in the pit of his gut gnawed at him.

But when he entered, the sight before him wiped away every hesitation.

Alia stood by the balcony, the moonlight gliding across her bare shoulders. She wore a see-through dress that clung to her skin like a second skin. No lingerie, no modesty... every of her curves were on display.

Rick’s mouth went dry. "You look..." he said.

She turned, moving slowly and displaying every inch of her body, with the aim of seducing him. "Beautiful, right?" she asked.

He nodded, stepping toward her.

Candles danced with soft light in every corner of the room, and the sweet smell of sandalwood and roses wafted through the air.

A maid had set a beautiful table with delicious food: roasted duck glazed with plum sauce, wild berries soaked in syrup, and the richest chocolate mousse he’d had in weeks.

But his gaze never left her.

She stepped toward him gracefully and wrapped her arms around his neck. "For you," she whispered.

He kissed her.

She returned it with everything she had, and soon they were seated at the table, half-eating, half-staring.

At random intervals, Rick’s mind drifted. Alia spoke, but her voice blurred in his mind, replaced by Emerald’s sharp, defiant voice. The way she looked that day in the council chamber, the way she didn’t flinch under pressure.

Rick blinked.

He could almost see Emerald in this same see-through dress, same pose, same candlelight, her body on display for his eyes to feed on.

He shook his head.

What the hell was wrong with him?

—

Dinner ended quickly. Plates were half-touched, but Alia didn’t seem to care.

She simply rose from her seat, her dress shimmering under the candlelight. She walked over to Rick, her feet silent against the floor. "Thank you," she murmured, resting a hand on his chest. "Dinner... it was perfect. Just what we needed."

Rick gave a small nod, though his expression remained unreadable. "I’m glad you loved it."

A soft smile curved her lips, but her eyes gleamed with something more. "I have something for you," she said.

"What is it?" he asked, brow lifting.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she slid her fingers through his and gently pulled him to his feet. Rick followed as she led him out of the dining space, the silk of her dress brushing against him with every step.

They reached her room, and she shut the door behind them with a quiet click.

Then she turned to face him. "How about I remind you," she said, her voice dropping to a purr, "why you picked me... why you made me yours."