Vivian POV
The next morning, the cold reality of my new existence settled in. Sitting in the back of the Pack sedan heading to Sterling Corp, my phone buzzed. It was an email from Arthur Penhaligon, the Beta. Copied on the thread: Alpha Julian Sterling.
Subject: *'Project Phoenix': Luna Liaison Appointment.*
I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. *Project Phoenix.* Serena’s rebirth, built entirely on the ashes of my marriage and my career. Because I was a wolfless Omega, deaf to the Pack's *Mind-Link*, this sterile email was my only connection to the Pack's ruling core. Julian was forcing me to personally oversee the handover of my own campaign to his mistress. It was a calculated, public execution of my dignity.
At 10:00 AM, I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the boardroom. The air instantly assaulted me. Massive arrangements of white lilies—the flowers of funerals—choked the room. But worse was the cloying, artificial stench of hothouse orchids radiating from Serena Chase. She stood at the head of the obsidian table in a triumphant white dress.
My newly heightened senses, a secret gift of my pregnancy, dialed the sickening scents up to a lethal dose.
"Vivian, darling," Serena purred, her eyes gleaming with malice. She spun around, deliberately waving a scent strip soaked in heavy musk and synthetic pheromones inches from my nose.
The aggressive scent of another she-wolf invading my territory was the final trigger. Deep in my womb, my pup violently recoiled, protesting the father's betrayal. A wave of intense nausea hit me like a freight train. I clamped a hand over my mouth, shoved my chair back, and bolted from the room.
I barely made it to the sink in the 40th-floor executive restroom before I retched. I splashed cold water on my face, gasping for air.
The heavy door slammed shut. The air froze.
Julian’s towering frame blocked the exit. His scent—winter storm and ancient pine—was laced with a dangerous, interrogating edge. His ice-blue eyes were dark with suspicion, his inner wolf, *Rage*, clawing at the surface. He was remembering my hypothetical question from yesterday.
"*What's wrong with you?*" he growled, his Alpha aura pressing down on my lungs.
Panic flared, but the fierce mother inside me took over. "Stress-induced ulcer," I choked out, forcing my hands to stop shaking. "It flared up."
To sell the lie, I reached into my purse and pulled out the relabeled bottle. I turned the label toward him—*Prescription Ulcer Medication*—then popped the cap. Holding his piercing gaze, I dry-swallowed a large prenatal vitamin.
The physical proof seemed to appease his beast. The suspicion in his eyes cooled back into glacial indifference. "Take a leave of absence after the launch," he ordered coldly. It wasn't care; it was a dismissal. He turned and left.
I exhaled a shaky breath, my hand resting on my stomach. I had just fed my pup right in front of the Alpha who wanted it dead, and he had no idea.
When I returned to the boardroom, the sight that greeted me solidified the ice in my veins. Julian was leaning over Serena, his large hand resting intimately on her lower back as they shared a private smile.
My phone lit up on the table. A text from an unknown number.
*This is Mark, Lily Evans' agent. Your husband is about to breach a multi-million dollar contract. We need to talk.*
I looked up at the golden couple, the Alpha and his chosen queen, completely oblivious to the storm gathering beneath them. Without a second of hesitation, I typed my reply.
*Downstairs coffee shop. 10 minutes. I'll help you burn them to the ground.*
