Aria’s POV
The she-wolf’s face contorted with fury as she pointed straight at me, her finger nearly touching my nose.
“A vice president?” she screeched. “So you’re her superior, and you treat her like this? Bully her, then shove the blame onto her shoulders? What kind of pack leadership allows monsters like you to rise? Is this what your company—and your pack—stands for?”
“I didn’t—” My chest tightened painfully. Air refused to reach my lungs. I tried to speak again, but before I could finish, a familiar presence surged toward us.
Ronan.
The moment his gaze swept over Delilah sprawled on the floor and the wailing infant nearby, his expression darkened into something terrifying.
“What happened here?” he demanded.
Delilah answered before I could open my mouth. She explained tearfully that I had “accidentally” shoved her, causing her to collide with the woman carrying the child.
She clutched her ankle and whimpered pitifully. “It might be injured… but it’s fine. Really. Please don’t be angry. Just explain it to the customer—the vice president didn’t mean to do this…”
Ronan spun toward me, fury blazing in his eyes. “Aria! Have you lost your mind? You couldn’t even handle something this small? Why would you push her?!”
“I didn’t—”
“I don’t want excuses!” he snapped. “Apologize. Right now.”
I stood rooted to the spot, breath shallow and uneven.
He believes her, I thought numbly. Just like he always does.
But something inside me finally snapped.
“I won’t apologize,” I said quietly. “Not for something I didn’t do.”
One hand instinctively covered my stomach. My voice shook, but I didn’t back down.
I was leaving anyway. I was done begging, done lowering myself.
Shock flickered across his face—he clearly hadn’t expected me to resist.
Before he could bark another order, the enraged customer suddenly lunged forward and shoved me hard.
“You shameless bitch!” she screamed. “With that kind of attitude, no wonder your child will turn out rotten! You won’t even say sorry? Get out of my sight!”
I hit the floor with a sickening thud.
A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. My ears rang violently, the world dissolving into white noise. I couldn’t hear anything clearly anymore—only a dull, roaring buzz.
Ronan stepped toward me, his hand twitching as if he meant to help.
Then he stopped.
In the next heartbeat, he turned away and scooped Delilah into his arms instead, rushing her toward the exit.
“Think about what you’ve done, Aria!” he barked over his shoulder.
I lay on the freezing tiles, curled around my belly as agony surged through me in relentless waves.
Around me, voices rose and fell. Wolves whispered. Some shouted. Others recoiled as if I were contagious. I could see flashes of light—phones lifted, recording my collapse, my humiliation.
That was all I could perceive.
Whispers. Noise. And the unbearable pain tearing me apart from the inside.
It wasn’t until much later that someone finally realized something was seriously wrong and called for medical help.
At the hospital, chaos erupted as doctors rushed me down a hallway toward the operating room.
“Where’s her family?!” one of them shouted. “Her vitals are crashing—do we prioritize the mother or the pup?!”
A nurse grabbed my phone with trembling hands. “Ma’am, do you have the father’s contact?”
My lips trembled as I gave her Ronan’s number.
He answered.
Not with concern.
Not with panic.
With rage.
“Aria, are you insane?!” he roared through the phone. “What did you do to Delilah? Her ankle is badly swollen—the doctor thinks it might be fractured! All because you shoved her!”
My entire body was shaking as I whispered, “I didn’t… She fell… on her own.”
“Oh, spare me that jealous nonsense!” he snapped. “You’re angry because she joked about being my wife? You actually took that seriously? It was obviously a joke!”
A joke?
My fingers dug into the sheets as tears finally broke free.
“Ronan… the baby—”
The line went dead.
I stared at the doctor, forcing a weak, broken smile through the pain.
“Please,” I whispered. “Forget the baby. Just… save me.”
“We’ll try,” the doctor said solemnly.
When I woke up, my body felt unbearably light.
Too light.
My stomach was flat.
A nurse approached quietly and handed me a small box. Inside lay what remained of my child—tiny, fragile, never given a chance to breathe under the moon.
I broke.
My sobs wracked my entire body, violent and uncontrollable. No physical wound hurt as much as this emptiness.
In the middle of my grief, the door burst open.
A man rushed in—tall, disheveled, his scent achingly familiar.
My brother.
Not by blood—but by choice, by loyalty, by every bond that truly mattered.
He crossed the room in seconds and pulled me into his arms, his voice rough with guilt. “I’m sorry… I should have come sooner.”
I pressed my face against his chest, unable to speak through the tears.
That same afternoon, he transferred me to a private hospital under his own name, shielding me from everything and everyone.
Before I left the city for good, I mailed that small box—the remains of the heir the Blackcliff family had wanted so desperately—to their estate.
Then I sent Ronan one final message.
We’re over.
I blocked his number. Deleted every trace of him. No hesitation.
From that moment on, Ronan Blackcliff ceased to exist in my world.
And he never would again.
