How Could a Scumbag Alpha Possibly Love His Wife? - Chapter 98

When Cheng Wan saw Director Xu, the older woman was sitting at the edge of her bed, wearing reading glasses and quietly reading a book. She didn’t even look up when she heard the knock on the door. She simply said, “Come in.”

It wasn’t until Cheng Wan approached that Director Xu slowly raised her head and studied her from head to toe. Then she suddenly smiled.

“Well, look who it is. I was wondering who was looking for me. It’s you.”

Cheng Wan was slightly surprised. “You still remember me?”

“Of course I remember,” Director Xu said with a warm smile. “When they called and said someone named Cheng Wan was here to see me, I tried to figure out who it could be. I didn’t expect it to be you. You haven’t come back in all these years. What made you come today?”

She pulled over a small wooden stool for Cheng Wan and poured her a cup of tea.

Cheng Wan was caught off guard by her kindness, but Director Xu remained kind and encouraged her to sit.

“It’s raining outside. You should have brought an umbrella,” Director Xu said as she looked her over again. “You look much better than when you left. Have you adjusted well to life with your adoptive family? Have they treated you kindly?”

Cheng Wan held the warm teacup in her hands, head lowered, saying nothing.

Seeing her reaction, Director Xu seemed to understand. She let out a soft sigh and said gently, “We had quite a struggle with that family back then. I figured your time with them wasn’t easy. But what choice did we have? You had to leave here eventually.”

Cheng Wan understood. She didn’t want to talk about how the Cheng family treated her. That was already in the past. She had made up her mind not to hold onto those memories.

“No need to talk about that anymore,” Director Xu said, sensing the subject was painful. She asked, “So what brought you here this late at night? Is there something on your mind?”

Cheng Wan nodded. She looked into Director Xu’s eyes and asked, “I wanted to ask you something. When my mother left me at the orphanage, did you try to find her? I remember there were cameras at the entrance. Shouldn’t you have been able to see what she looked like?”

Director Xu nodded slowly. “Yes, we did what we could. After your mother left you at the front gate, we tried to track her down. But back then, there weren’t as many surveillance cameras as there are now. We searched for over two weeks and even posted missing-person notices, but we never found any trace of her.”

Cheng Wan wasn’t surprised by the answer. She quietly rubbed the cup in her hands and asked again, “After I came to the orphanage, did anyone ever visit me? Or maybe watch me from afar without being noticed?”

Director Xu shook her head. She looked at Cheng Wan with sympathy and gently placed a hand on her knee.

“Child, I know what you want to hear. But the truth is, no one ever came. You’re an adult now, so I won’t hide anything from you. That day, your mother left you at the gate and walked away. We never learned who she was or where she went. And from then on, no one came to visit. Not officially, not in secret. There was no one.”

Cheng Wan’s face turned pale. Director Xu’s heart ached at the sight and she gently said, “Cheng Wan, you’re not the only child who’s been abandoned. Many of the children here have gone through the same pain. But they’ve gone on to live good lives. So please don’t be too sad. The people who didn’t cherish you are not worth chasing after. We all have to keep moving forward.”

Cheng Wan understood what she meant. Director Xu was trying to give her strength. So many years had passed. No one could truly explain what happened back then. Cheng Wan had come all this way, hoping to find something, but all she found was more pain.

Still, deep inside, she couldn’t help but wonder what she meant to anyone.

Why was she never important? Why did she always struggle to be loved?

Was it something she had done in a past life? Is that why she had to go through this one completely alone?

By the time Cheng Wan left the orphanage, the sky had gone completely dark. Director Xu had invited her to stay multiple times, but Cheng Wan gently refused.

Perhaps it was because of the memories from her childhood, but she could never bring herself to feel at ease in that place.

As she stepped outside, the light drizzle turned into steady rain. She bought an umbrella from a small shop nearby and walked on quietly.

The night had fallen completely. Standing on the side of the street, Cheng Wan didn’t know where to go. She had left the Bai family in a rush. They had probably already discovered her absence and were likely trying to call her.

But Cheng Wan didn’t want to hear Bai Juntang’s voice. She was afraid that if she did, the determination she had finally gathered would start to waver again.

She was no longer a child. She was an adult. Even if she was on her own, she could live just fine.

There was still light coming from a small hotel nearby. Cheng Wan stood at the front desk, dripping wet, waiting for the receptionist to complete the check-in process. Something seemed to be wrong—either the system was down or the new employee didn’t know how to use it—but it took a long time.

“I’m really sorry,” the young girl at the desk said nervously. “The public security system is down, so I’ll just write down your ID information. Your room is on the sixth floor. Turn left for the elevator. Breakfast is served on the second floor. Here’s your change in cash.”

Cheng Wan took the room key and her ID card, slipped the change into her pocket, and left the front desk.

She had booked a single room. A budget hotel costing just over a hundred yuan a night didn’t offer any luxury. At most, there were two free bottles of water. Nothing more.

Her clothes were soaked, and the discomfort made her shiver. She changed into a clean set of clothes and took a quick shower to wash off the day’s fatigue.

Afterward, she noticed the rain had grown even heavier. It beat against the glass in a steady rhythm that sounded almost eerie.

Cheng Wan sat on the bed, quietly thinking about her next steps.

She was an Omega. Even though she was divorced under the law, the permanent mark on her body was still a complicated issue. According to the rules, an Omega must wait a full year after divorce before they can apply for removal surgery. And even then, the process was painful. Many Omegas couldn’t endure it and had to rely on medication for the rest of their lives.

She gently rubbed the back of her neck. The gland there was fragile but deeply important. It was a part of her, a part of being an Omega, and also a kind of prison she couldn’t escape.

Besides releasing pheromones, the gland could also influence an Omega’s body and mind. During a heat cycle, it would strip away their rational thoughts, leaving them to act on instinct. In those moments, they would be completely vulnerable, drawn to an Alpha, bound in physical dependence.

The lifelong mark was an even stronger chain, tightly linking the Omega to the Alpha. The removal process was cruel. It had to be done without anesthesia, requiring the gland to be cut away piece by piece. If the surgeon lacked experience, the pain would be even worse. And if things went terribly wrong, the damage could be permanent. The gland might never function again.

But Cheng Wan was not afraid of pain. She was not afraid of being injured. Sometimes, she even envied Betas like Chang Le. They had no pheromones, no heat cycles, and lived without such biological restrictions. They seemed completely free.

Still, envy didn’t change reality. Cheng Wan was an Omega, and nothing could alter that. She thought about the savings she had from years of work—about seventy to eighty thousand yuan. It was enough to start a new life. On top of that, Bai Weilan had given her one hundred million yuan. If she used that money, she would never have to work again.

But Cheng Wan didn’t want to touch it. If she did, she would remember Bai Juntang. She would remember how kind he had once been to her. She would think of their daughter, Sui Sui.

Unless she had absolutely no choice, she didn’t want to use that money.

Even as she fell asleep, Cheng Wan still hadn’t figured out what to do next or where to go.

The next morning, Cheng Wan woke up feeling groggy, unsure of where she was. She lay on the hotel bed, listening to the faint voices coming from the hallway. It sounded like someone was talking in the room next door.

Outside the window, the rain had finally stopped. From the street below, she could hear the distant sound of cars passing by.

Everything around her signaled the beginning of a new day, but Cheng Wan stayed still.

She didn’t know how long she had been lying there. The gloomy sky made it hard to tell the time. Her phone had died the day before and hadn’t been charged since. But that didn’t matter. She still had enough cash on her, and there wasn’t anything urgent.

Eventually, stomach pain forced her out of bed. That was when she remembered she hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday.

She didn’t know what time it was, but no one had come to remind her to check out. So it probably wasn’t too late yet.

Leaning against the pillow, Cheng Wan looked around the unfamiliar hotel room and wondered if she should stay a few more days. She really had nowhere else to go.

Her stomach felt terrible, both bloated and painful. Even though she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for hours, it still hurt. She forced herself to sit up and drink some water, hoping to ease the discomfort. Then she plugged in her phone.

After charging for only five minutes, her phone turned on. But almost immediately, a call from an unknown number came in.

Cheng Wan stared at the number. For some reason, she just knew it was Bai Juntang.

The ringtone echoed sharply through the quiet room, loud and jarring.

Should she answer?

What could she even say if she did?

Cheng Wan sat at the table, staring at the phone until the screen went dark. She let out a quiet sigh of relief. But before she could even finish exhaling, the phone lit up again. The same number was calling back.

Whether she answered or not, the calls would keep coming. The little bit of battery she had just regained was quickly draining. In the end, she picked up the phone.

There was silence on the other end. No words, no noise. Just quiet breathing.

Cheng Wan didn’t speak either. In those few seconds, countless thoughts ran through her mind. She could imagine Bai Juntang on the other end, pacing with frustration.

“The divorce papers,” Cheng Wan finally said, “did you see them? I left them on the nightstand.”

There was a pause. Then Bai Juntang’s voice came through, filled with anger.

“You really want to divorce me that badly?”

Cheng Wan closed her eyes.

Bai Juntang was gripping the papers so tightly they were creased. His eyes were red with frustration.

“Cheng Wan, don’t you see how I’ve treated you? Just because I never said the words ‘I love you,’ you want to leave me?”

Cheng Wan lowered her head, as if he were standing right in front of her.

“Yesterday was Sui Sui’s full-month celebration. She’s only one month old. And you just left her?” His voice cracked. “I looked for you all night. I searched the entire city. Did you really have to run away like this?”

Cheng Wan stayed silent. As she listened, her eyes began to sting, and a wave of tears blurred her vision.

“Miss Bai,” she finally said in a quiet voice, “please don’t call me again.”

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