Chapter 2 of Pregnant And Rejected: The Omega He Cast Aside

Ella POV:

I fed the portrait of Arthur to the fire. It was the only way to keep from screaming.

The Mate Bond is supposed to be a warm tether. Right now? It felt like a sewer line, pumping their twisted satisfaction directly into my chest.

"Ella!"

The door banged open. Arthur, tuxedo-clad, eyes wild.

"Grandfather's birthday banquet. Twenty minutes. Why aren't you ready?"

"I'm not going," I said, staring into the flames.

"You are," he sneered. "Diana needs a servant. She doesn't know the customs. Wear something plain."

An hour later, I was a grey shadow in the ballroom. Diana, wearing my necklace and a shimmering red gown, clung to Arthur like a parasite.

"A toast!" Diana announced, voice shrill. "To the Alpha's recovery!"

Waiters passed around trays. Diana took a glass, then paused, eyes widening in fake panic. "Oh! My medication! Doctor said no alcohol. But it's bad luck to refuse..."

She extended the glass to me. "Ella, be a dear. Proxy?"

I stared at the amber liquid. Wolfsbane Whiskey. Laced with silver shavings. A flex for Alphas. Poison for an Omega.

"It has silver," I said. "I can't."

"Refusing your future Luna?" Arthur's voice dropped an octave.

"Arthur, it will hurt me."

"It's one drink. Don't be dramatic." He pushed the glass to my lips. "Drink."

The Command forced my jaw open. I swallowed.

Liquid fire. It tore down my throat and ate through my stomach lining.

"Good girl," Diana giggled.

I stumbled to the balcony, retching dryly against the stone railing. Inside, my wolf hearing picked up their voices over the jazz.

"You were hard on her," Diana cooed.

"She needs to learn," Arthur replied. "The wolf... it's restless. It wants you, but the old bond... it pulls. Hurting her quiets it."

He was torturing me to silence his conscience.

"Shame," Diana said. "Gavin had a tattoo over his heart. You just have that... 'E'."

"It's ugly," she added.

Glass shattered.

I peeked through the curtains. Arthur held a jagged shard of a champagne flute. He ripped open his shirt, exposing the 'E' brand over his heart.

"No," I whispered.

He drove the glass into his chest. He didn't just cut it; he carved it out. Blood soaked his white shirt, obliterating the mark.

"There," Arthur panted, eyes manic. "It's gone. I reject the past! I choose the blood!"

My knees hit the stone. The bond didn't just stretch; it screamed.