Mientras él celebra su boda, yo me hundo en el mar

My father was screwing his secretary when I pushed his office door open. Wet slaps and grunts filled the room as he drove into her against the desk.

My mother had spent three hours over the stove, squinting at a recipe she had memorized years ago. She packed my father's lunch and made me promise to watch him eat, since he was always busy. He had also left his phone at home.

I never expected to walk in and find him bent over his desk, his wool slacks bunched around his thighs, buried deep in his secretary.

The sight made me want to vomit.

This was the man who had promised to be home more that weekend for their thirty-year anniversary dinner.

His secretary looked toward the door, eyes widening. She gasped, her face turning a bright, guilty red.

"Oh, shit, Lisa," she breathed.

My father twisted around, flushed and sweating, not even pulling up his pants.

"Lisa, wait—"

I didn’t stay. I ran down the hallway, hit the elevator, and left his shouts behind as the doors closed.

I reached my car, shoved the key into the ignition, and sped onto the highway, weaving through midday traffic before the shock hit.

Then I felt his phone in my jacket pocket. I pulled over, grabbed it, and tried his birthday.

Denied.

His wedding date.

Denied.

I typed my mother’s name.

It unlocked.

That hurt more. He used her name as the key to his secrets.

I opened his messages. The thread with his secretary stretched for months, filled with late-night photos and detailed sexual fantasies. I kept scrolling as the dates slipped into last year.

I typed "divorce" into the search bar. The results loaded instantly.

The lawyer says we can finalize the paperwork before the end of spring. I can’t wait to finally be with you properly.

It was already mid-April.

My grip tightened as I scrolled.

I talked to the realtor today. The house should sell fast. Once it’s done, you can move into the new place with me. A fresh start.

He wasn’t just leaving her. He was selling the house. My mother and brother, James, would have nowhere to go.

Under pack law, the male head of household owned the property. We would end up in the welfare blocks at the edge of the territory.

Another message:

The kids will adjust. Lisa is twenty. James is seventeen. Maybe this will teach them some humility. They’ve had it too easy on my dime.

My vision blurred as I took screenshots. He was a pack Beta. He would deny everything without proof.

I drove back to the office, set the cooling lasagna and the phone on the front desk, and left before the receptionist could speak.

By the time I reached my car, my phone buzzed in the cup holder.

Mom: Sweetheart, can you pick up my prescription on your way back? The pharmacy called.

I stared at the text. My mother's eyesight had been failing for a decade. She was legally blind, unable to see the faces of her own children clearly without powerful lenses. She had been a nurse at the pack hospital, a career she loved, but she had stepped down when the vision loss made it dangerous to work.

She believed her husband was her protector.

I sat in the car and watched the sun start to dip.

My entire life, I had used my parents as the gold standard for love. He had been calculating his exit while she made his favorite meals.

My phone buzzed again. It was my best friend, Sasha.

Don’t forget the mandatory pack meeting tonight.

I had heard the whispers about alliance talks with the Silver Creek Lycans, but I hadn't cared. Now, the message specified compulsory attendance for all unmarked females.

I typed back: Found out my dad is having an affair. He’s selling the house and kicking us out.

Sasha: WHAT??? Call me RIGHT NOW.

Me: Can’t. I’ll explain later.

I spent hours driving through the pack lands. When my mother asked where I was, I told her Luna Catherine needed help with errands.

By nightfall, I reached the community center. My head throbbed. Inside, the room was packed. Alpha Marcus and Luna Catherine stood on the platform with their advisors.

More than fifty unmated women filled the chairs. I found Sasha. She grabbed my hand and looked worried.

“You okay?” she whispered.

I said nothing.

Alpha Marcus stepped to the microphone. The room fell silent.

“Alpha Cameron of Silver Creek has agreed to an alliance with us,” he said. “In return, they require a temporary arrangement with an unmated female.”

Whispers spread.

“His mate cannot bear children. He needs an heir. He is requesting a one-year contract.”

Luna Catherine stepped forward. “The contract is binding. The volunteer will move to Silver Creek, conceive, and carry the Alpha’s child. After birth, the child stays. The female returns home.”

Shock rippled through the room.

“In exchange,” Alpha Marcus said, “the volunteer receives full medical care, protection, and financial compensation.”

“How much?” a girl asked.

“Five hundred thousand tokens. Paid in installments,” Luna Catherine said. 

The room erupted. 

Five hundred thousand tokens was enough to buy a small estate and live comfortably for life.

“This is crazy,” Sasha whispered, leaning into my ear. “They want someone to be a paid incubator for a Lycan and then just hand the baby over?”

She was right. It was a cold deal. But the compensation was tempting enough to buy my mother a house in her own name, pay for her medical treatments or hire a full-time assistant for when her eyes failed completely. It would put James through the best university. We would never have to beg the pack for a place to sleep.

My phone vibrated. It was a voice note from my mother. I held it to my ear.

Her voice was broken, thick with tears.

“Lisa… your father just came home. He’s packing a suitcase. He says he wants a divorce… that he’s been unhappy for years.”

I heard her catch her breath, a jagged, wet sound.

“He says the house is his. The money too. He told me I have thirty days to find a place. Lisa, I have nothing. I don't know where we are going to go.”

The recording cut off with the sound of a door slamming in the background.

I stared at the back of the chair in front of me. All I had to do was give up one year. Conceive. Carry. Deliver. Walk away.

Sasha leaned toward me again. “Why would anyone do that? To carry a stranger’s child and just walk away?”

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Sasha stared at me. She let out a nervous laugh.

“What? Did you hear them? You have to give birth and then just hand the baby to a man you don’t know.”

“I heard.”

“Lisa.” She gripped my bicep, her fingers digging in. “This isn't a job. This is your body. You can't just—”

“I need the money, Sasha. I need to save my mother.”

Sasha looked at me as if I were a stranger. She opened her mouth to protest again, but the words died in her throat.

I ignored her and raised my hand high into the air.