Vivian POV
The heavy mahogany door of Julian's office clicked shut behind me, severing us from the rest of the world. The physical grip of the *Alpha's Command* finally released my muscles, but the suffocating weight of his aura remained, pressing down on my lungs.
His scent—usually a crisp blend of winter storm and ancient pine—was sharp and aggressive, lashing at me like a physical whip. He didn't sit behind his massive obsidian desk. Instead, he paced the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows like a caged beast, his ice-blue eyes burning with a cold, furious fire.
"She insulted my father, Julian," I said, my voice trembling but defiant. "She mocked the man who raised me, and she called me a barren stray. I was defending myself."
Julian stopped pacing. He looked at me not as a husband looking at his wife, but as a king looking at a disobedient peasant.
"Words are not violence, Vivian. In my Pack, order is absolute," he stated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Olivia is crucial to the launch of Serena's fragrance line. Your little Omega temper tantrum just jeopardized a multi-million dollar project and embarrassed me in front of my own executives. You will go back out there and apologize to her immediately to repair the damage you've caused."
I stared at him, the sheer injustice of his demand stealing my breath. "No. I won't."
Julian's eyes darkened. He closed the distance between us in two massive strides, his towering frame backing me up until my spine hit the edge of the cold obsidian desk. He reached into his drawer, pulled out the copy of the *MATE REJECTION AGREEMENT*, and slammed it onto the polished stone between us.
"If you do not apologize, I will amend this agreement right now," he threatened, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "You won't just leave with nothing. I will add a clause stripping you of all Pack protection. I will mark you as an exile." He leaned in closer, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. "A lone, wolfless Omega. You wouldn't last a day out there. You'd become Rogue meat."
The blood drained from my face. He wasn't just threatening my finances; he was threatening my very survival. I looked up into the face of the man the Moon Goddess had supposedly made for me, and for the first time, I didn't see my Mate. I saw a monster.
Pushed to the absolute edge of the abyss, a desperate, reckless question clawed its way out of my throat. I needed to know if there was even a shred of a soul left inside him.
My hand instinctively drifted to rest over my flat stomach. "What if there was more at stake, Julian?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "What if... what if I was carrying your pup?"
For a fraction of a second, Julian froze. His ice-blue eyes flashed pitch black—the undeniable, violent surge of his inner wolf, *Rage*. I could almost feel the phantom echo of a possessive roar vibrating in the air between us. *PUP! MINE!*
But the moment was fleeting. Julian's jaw snapped tight, the muscles in his neck straining as he used his sheer, ruthless willpower to violently suppress his own beast. When his eyes cleared back to blue, they were as dead and cold as a glacier.
"Then it would be a catastrophe," he said, enunciating every single syllable with merciless precision. "You would deal with it. Or I would."
*Deal with it.*
The words were a poisoned silver blade, plunging directly into my heart and twisting. He would kill his own flesh and blood just to clear the path for Serena. The very last, pathetic ember of my hope for our Mate-bond turned to ash.
A strange, eerie calm washed over me. The terrified, submissive Omega died on that obsidian desk, and a fiercely protective mother took her place. I knew exactly what I had to do.
I looked up at him, my eyes completely hollow. "I'll apologize."
I turned and walked out of his office. Olivia was lingering in the hallway, pretending to organize a stack of files. I stopped in front of her and delivered a mechanical, lifeless, "I'm sorry."
Olivia's face broke into a venomous, victorious smile, but I didn't stay to watch her gloat.
I walked straight to the executive bathroom on the 40th floor. The space was empty, smelling of sterile citrus cleaner. I went into the furthest stall, locked the heavy door, and leaned against the cold marble wall.
My trembling fingers reached into my purse and pulled out the relabeled bottle of prenatal vitamins. The hard plastic dug painfully into my palm as I gripped it like a lifeline. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, the silence of the bathroom ringing in my ears.
Julian Sterling had just declared war on his own blood. He thought he had broken me, but he had only set me free. I would play the obedient, defeated ex-wife. I would swallow my pride and bide my time. But I swore to the Moon Goddess, I would burn his entire empire to the ground before I ever let him touch my child.
