Chapter 4-Fated mate can be your worst nightmare also.

CHAPTER 4

~~MADISON'S POINT OF VIEW~~

I tried to open my eyes, but they didn’t open all at once. They fought their way up, fluttering and slipping shut again the moment I forced them open. Every blink felt heavy, it felt like my lashes were glued together from the inside. However, after enough struggles, I finally snapped my eyes open and noticed I was on a cold floor. I yawned, trying to sit up, but my legs felt so weak. Even when I finally stood up, they wobbled, forcing me to slump back to the floor almost immediately.

Sucking in a breath, I rubbed my eyes, trying to rub off the dullness, but something still felt weak. I felt extremely weak for a werewolf who had just dozed off after a glass of wine.

Or perhaps it was the pregnancy? I had never been pregnant before, so I didn’t know how it usually felt.

Mom never told me, she had almost zero information about being a werewolf since she was a human who fell in love with a wolf.

I looked around, and my eyes fell on my phone,it was right there on the table. Relief washed over me as I limped up, trying to reach my phone, but I fell back on my butt, nausea rolling through my stomach in a slow, sickening wave.

What is wrong? What’s happening?

The thoughts came sluggishly, as if they had pushed through fog to finally reach my mind.

Something is very wrong. I can’t feel my wolf. It feels like she’s not with me right now.

Or do wolves hide when a she-wolf gets pregnant?

No one told me anything. I guess I should have been the one asking all of this. This new phase of being pregnant is just so unfamiliar to me.

Suddenly, my head started to throb deeply; I felt a pulsing pain behind my eyes, which forced me to close them again for a few minutes to avoid passing out.

I thought of lifting my hand to grab my phone so I could dial Shawn’s number.

Every attempt to get my phone was frutile.My limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. I thought of screaming Shawn’s name, but I was scared my head might explode if I tried to do so. But I knew that he was in the house—perhaps the sitting room.

It's holidays he didn't go to work, he'd be staying home until new years.

Getting my phone will be my only saviour right now because I can't even shout.

Sitting up on my butt, I tried to stand again, and this time I was able to do so properly.

I reached for my phone at once and sank back to the floor. I turned it on and scrolled through contacts but as I did something else caught my eyes.

.02-01-2026……...The date.

The date. I blinked rapidly, my throat tightening.

It said today was the 2nd of January. How the hell was that possible?

It was just 30th yesterday,our wedding anniversary. When did we get to the new years?

Quickly, I scrolled to the calendar to be sure.

And there it was,the second day of January. My lips parted, and only gasps escaped, confusion registering in my face.

My gaze dropped to my clothes, and the realization hit me—it was the same outfit I wore the night Shawn came back.

The same orange gown I had on the night of our anniversary.

How could this be?

I shook my head, refusing to believe I had been asleep all this time. How could I sleep for three straight days?

That’s impossible. I couldn’t have done that. Perhaps my calendar was wrong, and my phone was malfunctioning.

With that thought in mind, I stood up with all my might and went to the sitting room. The first thing my gaze landed on was Shawn's work laptop.

I quickly turned it on, my fingers drumming on the keyboard impatiently as I waited for it to boot up. Finally, it did. I squinted my eyes looking for the date at the bottom left and when I finally saw it I froze.

Same date…….I staggered back, covering my mouth with both hands. I was dumbfounded.

How was this even possible? Was it the pup’s doing?

Sleeping for days?, I shook my head.It can't be

“Shawn!” I called out, turning to walk back to the room when a soft knock rang out from the door.

I paused, my gaze shifting to the door. I hesitated to unlock it, but after a moment, I reached for the knob and turned it.

The white morning light spilled in from the Mykonos street. Five figures stood in front of me: three men and two women.

The first man wore a navy blazer over a crisp white shirt, no tie, with a leather folio tucked under his arm. Beside him stood a uniformed officer of the Hellenic police—dark blue shirt, silver buttons gleaming, badge pinned cleanly to his chest, radio clipped to his shoulder.

The two women stood together, both wearing sophisticated, luxurious gray suits.

Once they stepped in, they didn’t wait to be invited, they closed the door behind them.

My eyes moved from face to face, confusion furrowing my brows“How may I help you?”

The man in the blazer opened his folio and produced an identification card, holding it out at chest height.

“Good morning. I’m a court-appointed legal representative, and these are my colleagues, health practitioners,” he said. “We are here to help you.”

A short gasp escaped me before I could stop it. “Help me?” I glanced at the man to confirm he was okay. “I’m sorry, but I don’t need help.”

The woman with the documents shifted, her heels clicking softly as she walked forward, her tone gentle. “There have been concerns raised about your health, Mrs. Sinclair. We’re not here to arrest you or anything. I promise we’re only here to make sure you get the help you deserve.”

“We understand this can be upsetting, but trust us, we came with good intentions, There’s nothing to be ashamed of; it happens sometimes.”

For a few minutes, I was stunned and confused at the same time. “What are you saying? I don’t understand,” I raised my voice.

“You’ve been abusing hard substances,” she finally clarified, and my eyes widened. The words hit me like a slap.

“W-what?” I gasped. “No, I have not been abusing any substances!”

Silence settled, and the woman only smiled as her colleague handed her a file. She raised it to my face.

“We were here two days ago, and some tests were conducted. The results are out, Mrs. Sinclair. You tested positive for some hard substances that a normal person shouldn’t be taking.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “No, no. You’re lying. I have never taken any hard substances in my entire life.”

“You do, Mrs. Sinclair. Your husband, Mr. De-Shawn Sinclair, petitioned us,” she announced, and I froze.

“M-my husband?” I asked in disbelief and she nodded.

“Yes, ma’am. Your husband petitioned us, he wanted the best for his wife, and he did the right thing. Now you just need to come with us, and you’ll be fine.”

My head spun as I processed the news of De-Shawn petitioning them.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I shook my head. “No.” I snarled at them. “Shawn would never do such a thing. You’re all lying.”

She heaved a deep sigh. “We’re not lying, Mrs. Sinclair. We can only be here on court orders, not our will. Please, come with us.”

I backed away, shaking my head. “I’m not coming with you.” My hands instinctively flew to my stomach. “I’m pregnant! Why would I take drugs? I’m pregnant! Do you understand that? Pregnant! I do not take drugs!”

Silence settled, and they didn’t say a word, but the air felt thick.

The silence wasn’t one of defeat; it twisted in my gut.

“What?” My voice rose, my eyes darted around. “Why are you not saying anything?”

“You claimed to have taken tests on me. You didn’t notice that I was pregnant?”

“You were,” she replied, her tone lowering.

My gaze narrowed at her.“What do you mean—were?” The word scraped my throat raw, and panic set in.

“Two days ago,” she continued. “Your last overdose killed your baby, Mrs. Sinclair.”