Love Beyond Status: The Billionaire's Chosen Wife

Mason sighed before he even opened the file.

The stack of incident reports on his desk had become less of a filing system and more of a monument to poor decision-making.

Not his poor decisions.

His Alpha’s.

He took a slow sip of coffee that had gone cold sometime around sunrise, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and stared at the blank report waiting to be filled.

Today’s date.

Today’s time.

Today’s headache.

He didn’t even need to read the witness statements.

There was only one Alpha alive capable of turning a peaceful Tuesday into official paperwork before breakfast.

Rowan.

Mason reached for his pen.

“I swear,” he muttered to the empty office, “one day he’s going to walk in here and tell me everything went according to plan.”

The office door opened.

Mason looked up hopefully.

It wasn’t Rowan.

It was Elder Martha carrying another cup of coffee.

“I heard you sigh from outside,” she said, setting the mug on his desk. “Thought you’d need reinforcement.”

“I always need reinforcement.”

She glanced at the report.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“What happened this time?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?”

“I haven’t read it.”

She blinked.

“Then why are you already annoyed?”

Mason slowly lifted the stack of reports sitting beside him.

“Pattern recognition.”

Elder Martha laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea.

“You really should have known better than accepting the Beta position.”

“I didn’t realize ‘Beta’ translated to unpaid therapist, paperwork specialist, and professional babysitter.”

She patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Promotion comes with responsibilities.”

“This feels more like a curse.”

The office door burst open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Both of them looked toward the entrance.

Rowan stood there smiling.

His dark hair looked like he’d lost an argument with the wind.

Leaves clung to one shoulder.

There was dirt on one boot.

And…

Mason narrowed his eyes.

“…Why are there hoof prints on your shirt?”

Rowan looked down.

“Oh.”

He brushed at them.

“They’re fresh.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s actually a funny story.”

Mason closed his eyes.

“No.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You really do.”

“I absolutely do not.”

Rowan dropped into the chair across from Mason’s desk with the confidence of someone who believed every terrible idea deserved a standing ovation.

“It started because I heard screaming.”

Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It always starts with screaming.”

“It wasn’t human screaming.”

“…That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It was a goat.”

Silence.

Elder Martha quietly took another sip of tea.

Mason stared at Rowan for several seconds.

“A goat.”

“Yes.”

“In the forest.”

“Correct.”

“And naturally your first thought was…”

“‘I should help.’”

“Of course it was.”

Rowan leaned forward, completely sincere.

“You would’ve helped too.”

“I would’ve called someone who actually knows how to handle goats.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“There is almost always time.”

“There wasn’t.”

“What was the emergency?”

“The goat was stuck.”

“In what?”

Rowan hesitated.

“…A hammock.”

Silence settled over the room.

Mason looked at Elder Martha.

She looked back at him.

Neither of them spoke.

Finally…

“A hammock,” Mason repeated.

“Yes.”

“In the middle of the forest.”

“Yes.”

“Was this… the goat’s hammock?”

“I honestly didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t think that was important?”

“It felt rude.”

Elder Martha burst into laughter.

Mason slowly lowered his forehead onto the desk.

“I don’t even know why I ask questions anymore.”

“I got him out.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“He was very grateful.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“He followed me home.”

Mason froze.

Slowly…

Very slowly…

He lifted his head.

“…He what?”

Rowan smiled proudly.

“I think he adopted us.”

A loud crash echoed somewhere outside the office.

Immediately followed by someone shouting—

“WHO LEFT A GOAT IN THE KITCHEN?!”

The three of them sat perfectly still.

Rowan avoided eye contact.

Mason closed his eyes again.

He picked up his pen.

Without saying a word, he wrote across the top of the report.

Incident Report #247

Then, underneath it, he added one sentence.

The Alpha needs adult supervision.