My Alpha Poisoned Me to Erase Our Baby

Two pink lines. Just two simple lines of pink dye on a plastic stick, but they had the power to rewrite the entire universe.

I sat on the edge of the narrow cot in the servants' quarters, my hands trembling so violently that I almost dropped the test. I was pregnant. Me, Rosalie Kelly, the wolfless Omega who was never supposed to be anything more than a paid distraction.

The contract I had signed with Luna Margaret two years ago was burned into my memory. *Clause 4: The subject must not form emotional attachments to the Alpha Heir. Clause 9: The arrangement is strictly temporary until the Heir’s wolf stabilizes.*

"Rules are meant to be broken," I whispered to the empty room, a fragile smile touching my lips.

My hand went to my flat stomach. Surely, this changed things. A pup wasn't just a biological accident; it was a gift from the Moon Goddess. And after last night... hope bloomed in my chest, painful and bright. Damon had woken from another nightmare, sweating and thrashing, but instead of pushing me away once I’d soothed him, he had pulled me close. He had buried his face in my neck and inhaled deeply, his grip possessive, desperate. He didn't smell like a boss holding an employee. He smelled like a man holding his lifeline.

I carefully wrapped the pregnancy test in a small, midnight-blue velvet pouch. It would be my gift to him. Tonight, after he officially became Alpha, I would tell him. I would show him that he didn't need a fated mate to have a family.

Taking a deep breath to steady my racing heart, I smoothed down the skirt of my simple grey dress—the uniform of the invisible—and slipped out of the room.

The Grand Ballroom of the Moonlight Summit Pack was suffocatingly lavish. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto the polished floors, and the air was thick with the scents of high-ranking wolves: pine, musk, and expensive perfume. As an Omega, and a wolfless one at that, I stuck to the shadows near the catering entrance, trying to make myself as small as possible.

But my eyes were glued to the dais.

Damon stood there, flanked by his parents. He looked devastating in his ceremonial black suit, his shoulders broad and rigid. The Alpha Aura radiating off him was a physical weight, a heavy blanket of power that made the wolves around me dip their heads in submission. Even without a wolf of my own, I felt the primal urge to kneel.

"I, Damon Blackwood, accept the mantle of Alpha," his voice boomed, deep and resonating in my bones.

The crowd erupted in howls and applause. As the noise swelled, Damon lifted his head. His gaze cut through the sea of people, bypassing the visiting dignitaries and the eager she-wolves, landing straight on me in the shadows.

For a second, the terrifying blankness in his eyes softened.

*"Office. Immediately after the ceremony,"* his voice echoed in my mind.

The one-way mind-link made me gasp. Because I had no wolf, I couldn't reply, but he knew I heard him. My heart soared. He wanted to see me. He wasn't casting me aside now that he had the title; he was summoning me. My fingers tightened around the velvet pouch in my pocket. This was it.

Damon stepped down from the dais, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea. I took a tentative step forward, ready to meet him, ready to start our real life.

*BANG.*

The double doors at the far end of the ballroom crashed open, slamming against the walls with a violence that silenced the music instantly.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, bathed in the moonlight from the hallway.

"Stop!" a female voice cried out, shrill and commanding.

Amelia Jones.

She strode into the room, wearing a dress the color of fresh blood. A wave of scent hit the room—an overpowering, cloying smell of roses and vanilla. It was so strong it felt chemically enhanced, designed to trigger every instinct a male wolf possessed.

Damon froze mid-step.

I watched, paralyzed, as his body went rigid. A low growl started in his chest, audible even from across the room. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

"Damon," Amelia purred, walking straight toward him, ignoring the gasps of the crowd. She stopped just feet away and bowed her head, exposing her neck in a gesture of ultimate submission. "I was wrong. The Moon Goddess made no mistake. I reject my past foolishness. I am here to claim my place by your side."

The silence that followed was deafening. I looked at Damon, pleading silently for him to tell her to leave. To tell her that she was two years too late. That she had broken him, and *I* was the one who had put him back together.

But slowly, Damon’s head tilted. His eyes, which had been a warm hazel just moments ago, flooded with pitch black. His wolf had surfaced. The mate bond—the fated connection he had craved for so long—snapped into place with the force of a whip crack.

He inhaled sharply, drunk on her scent. He reached out, his hand trembling, and touched Amelia’s cheek.

"Mine," he rasped.

"Yours," Amelia whispered, triumph gleaming in her eyes.

Then, Damon turned. His black eyes swept over the crowd and landed on me again. But this time, there was no softness. No recognition of the nights I’d spent holding him while he wept. There was only cold, hard indifference.

He grabbed Amelia’s hand and raised it high.

"My true Luna has returned!" he roared to the pack.

The cheers were deafening, a physical blow to my chest. But Damon wasn't finished. He looked directly at me, his lip curling in a sneer that shattered my soul.

"Clear the Omega from the hall," he commanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "I have no further use for paid services. My interim need is over."

The velvet pouch in my pocket felt like lead. The hope I had nursed just minutes ago turned to ash in my mouth. I stood frozen as the guards moved toward me, realizing with sickening clarity that to him, I wasn't a savior, or a lover, or the mother of his child.

I was just a transaction. And the contract had just expired.