She moved on without me

Lucas’s POV

I told myself I didn’t care. Over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a goddamn lifeline—it’s not your son. It’s not your problem. Let it go.

But the truth clung to me like smoke in my lungs, bitter and impossible to exhale.

Because logic didn’t stop the ache. Knowing he wasn’t mine didn’t make it hurt any less.

Selina had a son.

And he wasn’t mine.

That should’ve been the end of it. But instead, it was the beginning of something worse. How can my mate be pregnant for another man! Not even just a man, a weak human! This was the worst blow I have taken ever since I was fucking born.

I didn’t speak a word on the ride back to Blackwood Tower. Grant sat stiff in the passenger seat like he could feel the static coming off me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, jaw clenched, hands white-knuckling the wheel like I needed to break something, and it might as well be the steering column.

The moment I pulled into the garage and killed the engine, Grant opened his mouth.

“Alpha—”

“Don’t.” And he shut it immediately. That was somehow smart of him.

The elevator ride was silent.

But the rage? It roared.

When the doors slid open to the executive floor, two interns looked up from the reception desk.

They must’ve seen my face because they stood so quickly they knocked over one of their lattes. Neither of them tried to clean it up.

I walked past them without a word, suit jacket undone, shirt collar askew, fury radiating off me like a second skin.

“Mr. Blackwood—” my assistant started, jogging to keep up with me down the hall.

“Schedule’s cleared for the day,” I snapped. “Anyone who steps into my office without a direct summons loses their job.”

She faltered. “But the quarterly review—”

“Cancelled.” She stopped walking. But I didn’t; I don't have time to be talking to useless people. By the time I hit the glass doors of my corner office, I felt like I was barely keeping my skin on.

The moment they shut behind me, I grabbed the nearest object—an ornate crystal decanter—and hurled it across the room.

It shattered against the far wall, exploding like my self-control.

Whiskey soaked into the floorboards.

I didn’t even blink. The door creaked open a second later. I didn’t turn; I just barked.

“I said no interruptions.”

“It’s Grant,” came the careful voice.

I let out a breath.

“If you’re about to ask me how I’m doing, turn the fuck around and walk out.”

Grant stepped inside anyway. So I turned. He froze at whatever he saw on my face.

Good, because I told them I didn't need to be interrupted.

“I need a report on Carter & Co’s last five acquisitions,” I said. “Anything they’ve touched in the past six months.”

Grant blinked. “We already ran those reports.”

“Then run them again.”

He hesitated. “Lucas, I thought we were done chasing her.”

I moved so fast I didn’t even feel it—one second I was across the room, the next my fist slammed into the wall beside his head.

“You don’t get to tell me what I’m done with.”

He didn’t flinch. “You think scaring the shit out of your team is going to change what you saw today?”

I stepped back, chest heaving. “Just do your fucking job, Grant.”

"Look, you rejected her; she was your mate, but she isn't anymore."

He gave me one last look, then left.

The rest of the day was a blur of shattered tempers and barked commands.

By noon, two department heads had been reduced to tears.

By two, HR had submitted three complaints—none signed.

By five, my inbox was empty because no one wanted to risk a reply.

And still, the image haunted me.

Selina. Her smile. The boy’s hand in another man’s. The casual way they moved around each other, like it had always been that way.

Like I had never mattered. I tried to work.

I tried to bury myself in spreadsheets and intel briefs and market data, anything that didn’t have her name etched across it like a scar.

But it was no use.

Because the pain wasn’t about the boy.

It was about what he represented.

Finality.

She was gone.

For real this time.

I paced back and forth. I poured another drink that I didn’t touch.

Stared out at the skyline like it might offer answers.

And the silence in my head?

That was the worst part.

My wolf had gone quiet.

No snarling. No pacing.

Just stillness.

Like even he knew there was nothing left to fight for.

By nightfall, I was exhausted and wired, furious and empty, barely holding it together and still somehow functional.

I collapsed into the chair behind my desk and stared at nothing for a long time.

And when my assistant buzzed in to remind me of tomorrow’s board meeting, I didn’t answer.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Somewhere out there, Selina was tucking her son into bed.

She was probably smiling.

Laughing.

Softening for someone who wasn’t me.

And I was here. Breaking in silence and alone.