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Lahat ng Kabanata ng ALL HAIL THE ALPHA QUEEN : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

49 Kabanata

COLLISION POINT.

Alina — POV( | Wedding Day | Power Convergence) The dress was heavier than I expected. Not in weightin meaning. White silk. Lightning-thread embroidery. Stormstone beads sewn into the bodice like frozen sparks. It wasn’t traditional. It wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t soft. It was armor disguised as a gown. I stood in front of the mirror while stylists moved around me in silence, fixing fabric, adjusting clasps, brushing my hair into controlled waves that fell down my back like dark fire. Every movement was precise. Professional. Reverent. No music.No chatter.No wedding chaos. This was not a celebration. It was a convergence. My phone buzzed. Mother. I lifted it. “Mom.&rdqu

The Veil and the Claw.

Seraphina was the first to recover from the shock, as she always was, smoothing her expression into something that looked like grace but felt like calculation, stepping closer to me as if we were still sisters bound by affection rather than history soaked in blood and betrayal. She lowered her voice deliberately, the way one did when pretending concern while sharpening a blade. “Alina,” she said softly, glancing around the vast hall as if embarrassed on my behalf, “why don’t you leave quietly before this becomes… ugly. Everyone here knows this hall is meant for us. There’s no possible way you could afford it, and I don’t want you humiliating yourself further.” Her words dripped with false kindness, the kind that assumed weakness as fact, and when I did not answer immediately, she took my silence as permission to press harder. She gestured subtly at the banners, the lighting, the expanse of mar

HER MAJESTY'S ARRIVAL.

The hall had become a battlefield of whispers, scorn, and thinly veiled triumphs, and yet no matter how the Valecrests and Thornbrooks sharpened their words against me, no matter how they painted me as weak, undeserving, or pathetic, the foundation of my calm remained unshaken. Their voices, loud as they were, carried no true weight. They were nothing but noise. Kael’s presence had grown ominous, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief, the way one looks at a puzzle piece that refuses to fit into the image they have spent years perfecting. He leaned slightly toward me, his jaw tight, and his voice carried across the hall in the way only he could command, sharp enough to make even Seraphina flinch. “You know,” Kael began, his tone low but audible to all around, “for my wedding, Lady Thunderstorm is coming. And I’m certain she wouldn’t want to see someone like… this… standing here.&rdqu

THE VENUE OWNER ARRIVES.

The grand doors of the venue swung open with the faintest creak, but the sound seemed louder than anything else in the hall. I sensed immediately the shift in energy. Everyone froze for the briefest moment—the Valecrests, the Thornbrooks, even the assistants and waitstaff standing silently along the walls. My eyes swept across the figure who had just entered. He was a man in his early fifties, wearing an expensive suit tailored to suggest authority, though his eyes betrayed calculation, greed, and a hunger for profit above all else. He didn’t know me. Of course, he didn’t. How could he? To him, I was simply an unexpected obstacle in the form of a young woman standing in the center of a hall that he assumed was already reserved for Kael and Seraphina. Kael, of course, recognized him immediately, and his smirk widened as he realized he could use the man’s ignorance to his advantage. “Ah,” Kael said, his voic

THE GIFTS THAT SILENCED THE HALL.

Fear rippled through the hall the moment I ended the call, but it did not last long. It never does when arrogance is desperate to reassert itself. The owner of the venue cleared his throat loudly, straightened his jacket, and forced out a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. He lifted his hands in a calming gesture, turning toward the murmuring crowd like a man desperate to reclaim a slipping stage. “Everyone, please,” he said with a forced smile, his voice carrying false confidence. “There is no need for panic. This young woman is not capable of doing anything drastic. She is simply creating chaos because she has nothing else to rely on. Harmless. Useless. A person clinging to illusions far beyond her station.” A few uncertain chuckles followed, mostly from those who needed to believe him. Kael exhaled sharply, relief flooding his expression as he seized the opport

GOLD DOES NOT LIE.

For one fleeting moment, silence ruled the hall. It did not last. Kael was the first to recover, laughter bursting from his throat, sharp and deliberate, as though he could shatter the weight of what lay before him simply by mocking it hard enough. He clapped slowly, eyes glittering with forced amusement. “Well done,” he drawled. “Very impressive stage props. Did you rent these, or did you sweep through a flea market and grab whatever glittered?” Seraphina’s shock hardened into disdain. She lifted her chin and laughed, her voice high and cutting. “Flea market would be generous,” she said. “This looks like borrowed junk meant to fool people who don’t know real wealth. Honestly, Alina, you’ve reached a new level of desperation.” Mrs Thornbrook scoffed loudly, waving her hand dismissively. “I knew it. I said it

TWO APPRAISERS, ONE TRUTH.

The silence that followed the first appraisal did not last long. It never does when pride is wounded. Seraphina was the first to scream. “This is fake!” she shouted, her voice sharp enough to slice through the stunned air. “He’s lying. He was obviously paid to say all that nonsense.” Her accusation was like a spark dropped into oil. Kael seized it instantly. “Of course,” he said loudly, nodding as if he had just uncovered a grand conspiracy. “You called him, didn’t you? Just like you staged everything else. An ex-con hiring an appraiser to lie for her. How predictable.” Mrs Thornbrook stepped forward, her face twisted with fury. “Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. You even corrupt professionals now? You truly have no shame left, Alina.” Their word

WHEN FEAR LEARNS YOUR NAME.

The truth had been laid bare twice, yet denial is a powerful drug. Kael was the first to recover, his pride scrambling desperately for footing. He laughed, loud and hollow, the sound cracking at the edges. “This still proves nothing,” he snapped. “Authentic jewelry doesn’t mean it belongs to you.” Seraphina seized the opening like a drowning woman grabbing air. “Yes,” she said sharply, stepping forward. “Exactly. These could belong to anyone. You didn’t answer the question, Alina. Where did you get them?” Her eyes gleamed with cruelty now, emboldened by desperation.“Or rather,” she tilted her head, smiling nastily, “who did you sleep with to get them?” The hall inhaled. Mrs Thornbrook gasped theatrically, then shook her head in exaggerated disappoi

THE REPRESENTATIVE.

The hall buzzed with shallow laughter and forced politeness, every crystal chandelier reflecting a thousand tiny, judgmental eyes. I could feel them all, their thoughts crawling over me like insects hungry for my shame. Every whisper, every stare, every silent calculation was clear as day to me. They thought I had no power here, that I was nothing more than a nuisance they could sweep aside. How little they knew. Then he arrived. The representative. He moved through the crowd with a confidence that made heads turn, but I immediately sensed the tension coiling beneath his perfect composure. His eyes landed on me, and he spoke directly, without hesitation, cutting through the chaos. “Mrs. Thunderstorm will arrive soon,” he said, his voice calm but undeniably sharp. It was as though his words alone carried the weight of authority. Sarafina was the first to react. She fluttered to him, her perfect poise cracking, desperation leaking

NO BLUFFING!!!

The air in the hall was thick, almost suffocating, with their words. Every insult, every sneer, every thinly veiled accusation ricocheted off the chandeliers and marble, settling in my bones. Sarafina’s voice, high and trembling with anger, cut through the murmurs of the crowd. “You think you can just stand here and take over what’s not yours? You have no right, no place, no—nothing!” She lunged slightly forward, her perfect nails aimed like claws, her lips quivering as though the effort of her venom was exhausting her already fragile composure. Kyle, ever the mask of calculated authority, took it a step further. His hands shot out, grabbing me by the arms with that familiar mix of force and entitlement, trying to pull me away from the space I had claimed with nothing more than my presence. “Enough, Alina! You will leave. Now!” His voice was sharp, authoritative, but laced with panic, the kind of panic that comes when yo

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