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.

After Sabrina settled into the packhouse, Lucian might as well have tied himself to her by the wrist. Wherever she went, he followed, his scent intertwined with hers so strongly it made my wolf recoil.

And me?

I’d cut the last thread of expectation the moment I finally saw them for who they were.

One late evening, when thirst pushed me downstairs for a glass of water, a soft murmur drifted from the slightly open door of the guest chamber—Sabrina’s temporary room, the one Lucian insisted she needed to “rest properly for the pup.”

“Lucian…” she purred, voice dripping sweetness, “I heard that Saint Christopher medal from your family line works miracles for easing fatigue. The little one has been restless all night… Would you mind letting me borrow it for a while?”

The medal was no simple trinket.

Among wolf packs, the Blackwood line guarded it fiercely. Passed from Luna to Luna, it marked the rightful mate of the Alpha—an emblem given only to the woman recognized as Mrs. Blackwood. Lucian had placed it around my neck himself beneath the moonlit vows. He promised it would stay with me forever.

Forever, he’d said.

Because, according to him, there would never be another Luna beside me.

The memory unraveled when I heard his reply.

Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I watched Lucian press a gentle kiss against her cheek, offering a soft smile that used to be mine.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll ask Vivienne. You can wear it as long as you need—at least until your pup arrives.”

A knife-sharp ache shot straight through my heart.

I couldn’t even recall his exact words from our mating ceremony anymore… but what did it matter? He clearly didn’t remember his own vows either.

I stepped backward, but the wooden floor betrayed me with a faint creak. In an instant, Lucian opened the door. The moment he saw me standing there, his expression faltered—surprise, followed by something that looked dangerously like guilt. He stepped out quickly, pulling the door shut behind him, guiding me toward a private corner of the hallway.

“Vivienne,” he said quietly, “you must’ve heard that, didn’t you?”

I kept my lips sealed.

He hesitated, then exhaled. “Sabrina’s been losing sleep. Could you lend her the medal for a while? Just until she feels better?”

I nodded slowly—right as a sharp pain coiled through my side. I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.

“I’ll give it to her,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “But I want one thing in return.”

Lucian brightened instantly, as if I had just thrown him a lifeline. He stepped closer, about to wrap me in a relieved embrace, but I shifted back before he could touch me.

Sabrina’s scent clung to him—thick and nauseating.

“I’m glad you’re being reasonable,” he said with a soft smile. “Once her pup is born, I’ll return it to you. Don’t worry—your place beside me isn’t changing.”

So he did remember the symbolism of the medal.

“I don’t care if she never returns it,” I replied quietly. “I just need you to sign something.”

Then I turned and headed upstairs.

A minute later, I descended with a set of papers—already opened to the signature page.

Divorce papers.

“There’s no need to get emotional,” Lucian murmured, as if coaxing a child. “Sabrina won’t keep it forever. I already told you—I’ll give it back once she’s delivered.”

He signed without even scanning the document.

When my fingers closed around the papers, a hollow calm flooded through me. I hadn’t expected it to be this effortless.

Lucian offered me a gentle smile, completely misunderstanding everything. “I know I haven’t treated you well lately. Go on—buy whatever makes you feel better. Put it on my tab.”

Ah.

So that was it.

He thought this was part of another petty argument. That I was angling for money, or gifts, or some emotional leverage.

I unclasped the medal, the familiar weight vanishing from my throat, and placed it in his palm with an empty expression.

For a moment, he froze. His fingers tightened around the necklace like he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold it—but eventually, he kept it.

“Don’t worry,” he repeated softly, almost like he needed the reassurance himself. “Once her pup comes, it’ll be back where it belongs.”

But his words didn’t touch me anymore.

“She’s welcome to keep it as long as she pleases,” I said, voice flat.

Overwhelmed by something he mistook for gratitude, Lucian suddenly pulled me into a hug. I shoved him off immediately, disgust curling in my gut—but he didn’t seem to care. Without another look at me, he walked straight back into Sabrina’s room.

A heartbeat later, her delighted squeal filled the hallway.

I stood there, staring blankly at the moonlit window.

Tomorrow, I would leave this place.

And for the first time in months…

…I wouldn’t look back.