Claimed by My Bully Alpha (by Anna Kendra) novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139

Aurora’s P.O.V

I couldn’t feel my legs as Caleb held onto me, his arm steadying me as I stumbled forward, each step dragging me closer to the reality I didn’t want to live He’d tried to talk me out of this, his voice firm but edged with the kind of worry that made my chest ache.

“Aurora, you don’t have to do this, he’d said, his hand squeezing mine just enough to anchor me. But I couldn’t listen. I’d insisted. I had to see hist. The thought of not looking at him one last time, was unbearable. So here I was, my insides hollow, my breath catching with every sterile, metallic–scented step toward the morgue. Caleb was silent beside me, and though I could feel the tension in his every movement, he didn’t argue further.

The healer greeted us with a somber nod, her eyes flicking between me and Caleb, her lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn’t meet her gaze for long; it felt too much like acknowledging the truth I still wasn’t ready to accept. She led the way, her steps careful, deliberate, as if she knew every movement carried weight.

When we reached the tray, my body went rigid. The sight of the white sheet covering what was once my father made my heart race, but in a dull, detached way. I wasn’t ready, and yet I couldn’t wait. My voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

“Can you… take it off?”

The healer hesitated, her eyes scanning me, likely trying to gauge whether I could handle it. “It might be upsetting, she warned softly, her voice gentle.

Caleb’s hand tightened on my arm. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel his silent plea for me to reconsider. I shrugged him off, stepping forward as the healer’s hands moved to the sheet. I’didn’t care how upsetting it would be–I needed to see him.

My breath hitched as the cloth was pulled away, and there he was. Pale. Still. The lines of his face so familiar, yet so foreign in their stillness. My knees threatened to give out, but I forced myself to stand. Forced myself to keep looking, even as something inside me cracked wide open.

He looked almost unrecognizable, his body shriveled up, his skin pale and sunken, like a forgotten corpse long past its expiration date. For a moment, I froze, staring at the figure on the cold, metal table.

Was this really him? The man who had caused so much pain and destruction? The man I had cursed in my nightmares? My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I turned to the healer.

“What… What happened to him?” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded, how small.

The healer, a woman with kind but weary eyes, stepped forward cautiously, as if I might shatter at the slightest provocation.

“Severe dehydration and malnutrition,” she said softly. “He starved

death.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to process her words. Starved? He starved? My stomach churned, a nauseating mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up. Before I could respond, she added.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Her words were the final straw. The dam inside me broke, and

spun

toward her, my voice rising.

“Sorry for my loss? Sorry? You shouldn’t be sorry, not for me, and definitely not for him!” I jabbed a finger in the direction of the corpse, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall.

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