The moment I pushed the door open, a faint sound drifted out of the nursery—and instantly my wolf bristled, heat flaring through me. That room had been Lucian’s pride the second he learned I carried his heir. He had personally overseen every detail: the carved wooden cradle from the Northern Pack, the rune-stitched blankets, the protective charms, the stuffed moonbeasts… all chosen by his own hands.
All chosen for our pup.
And now he intended to hand all of that over to Sabrina?
A savage fury rose like wildfire under my skin. I stormed down the corridor, claws itching to break free, and shoved the nursery door wide open—
Only to find Sabrina curled up inside the cradle, as if trying to claim it as hers.
I didn’t even think. Instinct roared to the surface. I grabbed her by the arm and lifted her straight out of the crib, rage pounding in my chest like a second heartbeat.
But before I could speak, Lucian appeared in a blur of movement, his Alpha strength clamping around my wrist as he yanked me back.
“What in the hell is wrong with you, Vivienne?” he barked, anger vibrating through his wolf aura. “You fly into a frenzy the moment you walk through the door!”
His dominance pressed down on me—until he saw the tears filling my eyes. His grip loosened, barely.
My voice cracked. “Are you truly giving this room to her?”
Lucian’s expression tightened. “Sabrina said she feels comfortable here. It doesn’t matter if she uses it temporarily. Stop overreacting.”
“Do you even remember—”
“Enough, Vivienne!” he snapped, slicing off my words with a growl of irritation. “Your behavior these past days has been unacceptable. If this continues, I might have to reconsider whether this mating bond is still viable.”
He paused, eyes chilling to frost.
“Unless you want the pup inside you to grow up without a father.”
He was threatening me. Threatening divorce. Threatening rejection.
As I stared at him—his profile turned away like he always did when he was done arguing—every warm memory we’d built disintegrated. The vows he whispered under the moon, the promise that this nursery would belong to our firstborn forever… all of it felt like smoke and lies now.
All of it meaningless.
Without another word, I turned and walked out. My fingers instinctively cupped my stomach, feeling the soft flutter of life beneath my palm.
“It’s alright, little one,” I whispered. “We don’t need that room. I’ll make you a better one. Somewhere safe.”
Behind me, Lucian remained motionless, watching me retreat. That same fleeting guilt I saw at the clinic flickered over his face again—sharp, fleeting, almost human. Then Sabrina called his name from the nursery, and he pivoted toward her without hesitation.
---
Later, when I returned to the master bedroom, my phone buzzed repeatedly. A string of voice messages from Sabrina.
I pressed play.
With each recording, Lucian’s gentle, doting voice washed over me—soft tones, comforting murmurs, the kind he once used with me when he thought he was being a good mate. But hearing them now, layered with Sabrina’s coy responses… the truth slammed hard into me.
Every affectionate gesture Lucian ever gave me had been nothing but training for her.
The soups he served me to “strengthen the pup.”
The gifts he bought for the nursery.
The care instructions he read out loud.
The nights he talked to my belly as though speaking to our future heir.
All of it—every last piece—had only been practice.
He had used me and my unborn child as a rehearsal, a trial run so Sabrina wouldn’t suffer through his inexperience. Even the nursery, which he swore was for our pup, had been prepared for the offspring in Sabrina’s womb.
I listened to the messages again and again until the ache in my chest twisted so painfully it forced out a laugh. A brittle, broken sound.
I wasn’t laughing because it was amusing.
I was laughing because the hurt was so deep it split something inside me.
Everything I had cherished since learning I was pregnant—every tender moment, every shred of hope—was nothing but a lie Lucian crafted so he could perfect his gentleness… for another wolf’s child.
His affection for my pup didn’t even scrape the surface of what he lavished on Sabrina’s unborn one.
My hand trembled as I gripped the phone, breath shuddering. My lungs felt tight, painful, like my ribcage had shrunk around my heart.
All I could do was whisper to myself, again and again:
“It’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll be alright.”
Because soon… we would be free of him.
Just me and my pup. And we would survive.
As if sensing my turmoil, the tiny life inside me gave a soft kick—gentle, reassuring, almost protective. Like he understood. Like he agreed.
I wrapped both arms around my belly, holding the little one close, anchoring myself.
I stayed like that for a long while, breathing slowly, waiting for the pain to loosen its grip.
And finally… eventually… it did.
