Chapter 3

Four years passed.

By the time Logan turned four, the difference between the two boys had become impossible to ignore.

My son was taller and stronger than other children his age. His wounds healed within hours, and whenever he became emotional, a faint golden ring appeared around his pupils.

The pack doctor said those were signs of an exceptionally powerful Alpha bloodline.

"He may complete his first shift early. One day, he'll be strong enough to inherit your father's pack."

Isabella happened to hear him.

Her eyes immediately lit up.

She crouched in front of Logan and took his hands, as though she were already imagining the future that supposedly belonged to her.

"I knew it. Look at him—he's only four, and his Alpha blood is already showing."

Then she glanced at Runt, who stood silently behind her.

He was thin and pale, with fading bruises around his wrists. Unlike Logan, his eyes had never shifted, his claws had never emerged, and he had never displayed the slightest trace of his wolf.

It wasn't because he was truly weak.

She deliberately withheld food and water from him, and whenever he displeased her, she would lock him away as punishment.

Sometimes, when I passed by her house, her voice would suddenly grow louder as she screamed at Runt—almost as if she wanted to make sure I heard every word.

Just like now.

Isabella's expression turned cold as she looked at him.

"Some children are born to lead. Others will always be useless."

Runt lowered his head.

A tear slipped silently down his cheek.

Isabella didn't notice.

But I did.

I crouched in front of him and wiped it away.

"You're not useless."

Runt looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Then why can't I do what Logan does?"

"Because everyone develops differently. You don't have to be like him to deserve kindness."

Isabella immediately pulled him away.

"He's my child, Claire. I know how to raise him."

Her child.

If only she understood how true those words were.

Over the past four years, I had tried repeatedly to stop her. But every time I reported Runt's injuries, Ryan used his position at the hospital to alter the medical records, while Isabella insisted she was only helping her weak son awaken.

Once, I found Runt locked inside a dark closet and tried to take him away.

Isabella blocked the door.

"You already have your own son. Stop interfering with mine."

Ryan pulled me back.

"Claire, Isabella is his mother. You have no right to take her child."

He thought Runt was my biological son.

He knew Isabella was hurting him, yet he continued protecting her because every injury weakened the pure-blood heir they had stolen from me.

After that, I quietly began gathering evidence, but Ryan covered their tracks so carefully that I never had enough to expose them completely.

Then Isabella went too far.

That evening, Logan and I were returning from my father's house when a child's scream came from across the hall.

I told Logan to stay inside and ran into Isabella's apartment.

Runt lay unconscious on the kitchen floor beside a broken chair.

Blood ran from his temple. One arm was twisted beneath him, and his breathing was frighteningly weak.

Isabella stood over him with a training rod.

"What did you do?"

"He couldn't even bring out his claws," she said. "I was only trying to awaken his wolf. I barely hit him."

I rushed over and lifted him.

His eyes fluttered open.

"Mrs. Carter…"

"I'm here."

"Please don't let her hit me again."

I held him tightly and stood.

Isabella blocked the doorway.

"Put him down. He's my child."

"He needs a hospital."

"I said he's mine!"

"You can explain that to the police."

I carried Runt outside and called an ambulance.

By the time we reached the hospital, he had lost consciousness.

Ryan arrived soon afterward and immediately went to Isabella.

"What happened?"

"He fell during training," she said.

When Ryan saw the police, he turned on me.

"Why did you call them before speaking to us?"

"A child was nearly beaten to death, and you're worried about the police?"

"Don't exaggerate. Isabella would never deliberately hurt her own son."

Before I could answer, the doctor came out.

"The child has several fractures, a severe concussion, and internal bleeding. These are not training injuries."

Isabella began shaking her head.

"He's always been weak. His body can't handle anything."

"We tested his wolf bloodline to determine the correct treatment," the doctor continued. "He's an ordinary werewolf. At four, it's perfectly normal for his wolf to remain dormant. You can't force him to show the same abilities as Mrs. Carter's pure-blood son."

Isabella stared at him.

"No. That's impossible."

"There's nothing wrong with him," the doctor said. "He was simply never born with a pure-blood Alpha lineage."

"But he is Claire's son!" Isabella blurted out. "I switched the babies myself!"

The hallway fell silent.

Ryan slowly turned toward her.

"What did you just say?"

He wasn't shocked that the babies had been switched. He was shocked that Isabella had just confessed it aloud in front of doctors, police officers, and half the hospital corridor.

Isabella froze.

Then she looked at me, the color draining from her face.

I met her gaze calmly.

"You did switch our children at the hospital four years ago."

I glanced toward Logan.

"But that same night, I switched them back."

Isabella whipped around toward the unconscious boy behind the glass.