PREGNANT FOR THE ALPHA I NEVER MET

MILLIE-ROSE'S POV

There was a knot in my stomach. A gnawing, ominous anxiety. The more I scrolled through the comments, the tighter it pulled. I was almost gasping in the confinement of my car, the tinted windows doing nothing to stop the feeling of claustrophobia creeping up my spine.

"Wow, congratulations to her."

"She's a pretty actress. I've been a fan of hers since she was little. It's so great seeing her getting married."

"But isn't she too young? Congratulations anyway."

I kept scrolling, searching for the comment that had triggered this unease but nothing stood out. They were all the usual suspects. Well-wishers. Haters. Keyboard warriors dissecting every inch of my public life like they paid rent in it.

With a frustrated sigh, I locked my phone and dropped it into my purse like it had personally offended me. I leaned back in the leather seat and took a deep breath. Maybe that would help. It didn't. The knot stayed, unmoved and unbothered.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Was this... wedding jitters? Was it normal to feel this twisted up inside the day before your wedding?

I wouldn't know. I've never been married before. I never had a mother to guide me through moments like these. She died when I was five. Her absence was a void I had long stopped trying to fill.

My stepmother? Yeah, asking her about "wedding nerves" would earn me an eye-roll and probably an insult or three. We weren't exactly swapping mother-daughter advice.

So how was I supposed to know if this feeling was normal?

"We're here, Ma'am," the driver said as the car rolled to a stop.

"Oh," I murmured, glancing out the tinted window. The towering glass structure of my modeling agency loomed ahead, crisp and intimidating under the mid-morning sun.

Callie had sent my schedule already, two photoshoots: Vogue and Elle, a lunch meeting with the directors of my upcoming movie role, and a bachelorette party later tonight.

And tomorrow?

I was supposed to become one with Silas Butt.

Everything should feel... perfect. But my chest was tight. My palms, clammy. I was nauseous. A gnawing anxiety that clung to me like perfume I didn't remember spraying.

Was it my dress? An allergic reaction? What do I even blame this on?

"Ma'am?" The driver gently called again, likely noticing how zoned out I was.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, shaking off the fog in my head as I grabbed my purse and stepped out.

I put on the most collected expression I could muster, smoothing out invisible creases on my blouse. Showbiz rule 101: keep it cute even when you're dying inside.

"Good morning, Ma'am. Congratulations on your wedding tomorrow!" one of the security guards greeted me with a wide grin.

"Thank you. Good morning," I replied, smiling politely as I passed through the lobby.

It wasn't just the guards, nearly everyone in the building offered a wave, a smile, a compliment about my wedding. I responded to