One More Hot Contract with the Shadow Alpha

CORALINA

“Coralina, I'm very sorry. We tried everything we could…”

The doctor, a middle-aged beta, stands at the foot of the bed. 

I wait to hear what else he has to say. 

I already know what it's going to be, but I wait anyway, because I'm not going to believe it's real unless I hear it being spoken out loud. 

“Unfortunately, the fetus no longer has a heartbeat. It was a nearly fully-developed male.”

My chest caves in. 

I try to swallow the lump of tears stuck in my throat, lying on the narrow bed with hands folded over my belly out of habit, even though it is already useless…

The doctor keeps talking, and words slide past me like water.

“Given the situation, we recommend induced labor as soon as possible. It’s safer for you.”

My head moves on its own, saying yes, as if my body has already decided without asking me. 

The doctor hesitates, then asks, “Has Alpha Maximus arrived? We’ll need his signature as well.”

I twist the blanket’s edge between my fingers as my whole body starts to tremble.

“He won’t come.”

The words come out in a whisper. I clear my throat, force strength into my voice. “I will sign it myself.”

The doctor hesitates. “Regulations state that for a mated omega, the alpha’s consent—”

“I am the Luna of the Silver Lake Pack,” I interrupt. 

“I am signing for myself, and for my child. Legally, I have the authority. The pack bylaws are clear in a medical crisis.” 

The doctor casts his gaze down and passes the tablet. My finger trembles only once as I press it to the screen, authorizing the end of what has already ended.

My mind slips backward in time.

Three days ago…

The banquet hall is bright with crystal lights reflecting against polished marble floors. Music echoes off the high ceiling, as more and more people from the neighbouring packs pour in. 

I remember standing by myself near the edge of the pool, hand on my belly. I'm holding a glass of juice, taking a sip every so often. 

People come to greet me, but there isn't much for me to do apart from some small talk. Maximus is nowhere to be found, and I'm getting bored. 

“AHHHH–!!!”

A sudden scream catches my attention. 

I turn around, only to find Brielle slipping into the pool. 

After that, everything else happens at once. Maximus lunges forward, screaming her name. 

His shoulder slams into me, and I lose my balance. The world tilts, then the water swallows me whole.

It is cold enough that my body jolts the moment it touches the water’s surface. I thrash my arms, but the frilly layers of my dress are dragging me down. 

The moment I try to scream, water floods my mouth. I kick, awkward and heavy, panic clawing up my throat.

Far above the surface, Maximus is holding Brielle against his chest. I see it through the blur: his arms around her, his face pale, frantic. Brielle is crying, but she is safe.

No one looks down.

My lungs burn. My belly cramps hard, a sharp pain that steals my breath. Just when darkness starts to creep in from the edges, hands grab me. Guards. Strong arms haul me out.

I am coughing, gasping, shaking. The last thing I see before everything fades is Maximus’s back as he carries Brielle away.

When I was brought to the hospital, Maximus came to visit only once. Even then, he remained standing by the door and didn't come close. 

He looked at the monitors like fulfilling a formality. 

“The doctors said you will be discharged in a few days. You should rest.”

Saying that, he left…and never came again.

Since then, I have messaged him, called him, but got no response.

Instead, I got to see Brielle’s updates all over my social media, and screenshots of the same photos sent by my so-called well-wishers. 

Photos of fabrics and flowers, venues… a smiling selfie with Maximus behind her, his arms around her shoulders. Caption: Busy preparing my birthday surprise.

The nurse comes to prep me before the procedure, and I hand over my phone. I don't want to see them anymore. 

My child was strong. The healers told me that. Even without Maximus's pheromones– without his father's presence to stabilize his development, he was growing well. 

This was quite unusual, they all used to remark with surprise. I stroked my belly every night and whispered apologies to my baby, promising him that I was trying my best. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore. 

It is his own father who killed him, with his own hands.

The induced labor is long. The pain is merciless, coming in waves after waves without any relief. 

There is no one to hold my hand, no alpha scent to ground me during the worst contractions. I bite my lip until I taste blood and refuse to scream.

When it is over, the room is quiet, like the insides of a tomb.

I don’t ask to see my pup.

I already know I wouldn’t survive that.

I sign the discharge papers alone, I go home alone. The pack house feels empty, and that's exactly what I want. 

I print the divorce agreement I prepared weeks ago, back when I still hoped I wouldn’t need it. Maybe, I should have listened instead of holding on like a fool. 

But I wait for him to come back… and hopefully, I'm waiting for the last time. 

Midnight comes, and the front door opens quietly.

Maximus steps inside, loosening his tie. He looks tired, annoyed. He pauses when he sees the light on.

“You’re still awake?”

He asks. “You should be resting. Don’t you ever think about the child in your belly?”

Something inside me snaps. I have cared about that child more than you ever have, and what do I get in the end? My womb is empty, just like my heart. 

I slide the papers across the table toward him.

“Reject me now,” I say.

He frowns, then laughs shortly. “What are you making a fuss about? Is this still about the party? Oh come on, Coralina! It's not like you died, right? So what if you were pulled out of the water half a second after she was?!”

I don’t answer fast enough, because the images line up in my head like knives.

He keeps going. “Brie only has half a year left. Why are you being so petty?”

I look at him, and his familiar face feels strangely distorted, like I am seeing it through water.

“How long she has left has nothing to do with me,” I say. My voice is cold, steady. “Why should I endure this?”

His expression hardens. “I thought we already reached an agreement.”

I laugh. It comes out sharp, almost hysterical. “An agreement? She wants to relive her first love, so I have to watch you fall in love with her again. She wants to experience marriage once, so you give her the wedding I spent months preparing. She wants to see the world, so you take her traveling everywhere.”

He says nothing.

“We’ve been married five years,” I continue. “Five! We never even had a wedding.”

When I married him, I was an orphan omega of unknown bloodline. The pack opposed it, but we still went ahead with it. 

The caveat was that we didn't hold a ceremony or celebration, just paperwork and whispers.

Only a few months ago, after years of serving as Luna and helping this pack climb into the top three across continents, the council finally proposed to hold a ceremony for us.

I spent half a year preparing for it.

Brielle took it with one sentence: “I always wanted to have a wedding, but maybe, it won't be possible in this lifetime.”

That's it, that's all it took for me to be pushed out of my own special day. 

But this time, things have gone too far. 

“I’m serious,” I say quietly. “I’ve already signed it. You should sign it, then reject me. Whatever you want to do with Brielle after that has nothing to do with me.”

Maximus picks up the agreement, eyes scanning it. He laughs again, but there is anger in it this time.

“And the pup? What about my heir? Are you taking him away?”

My mouth opens. I muster the courage to tell him that there is no baby anymore. Your heir is gone. You killed him with that shove, with your neglect, with every moment when you chose her and left me to die.

The words are burning, ready to spill out. But before I can say them, Maximus’s phone rings. He looks at the screen, and his face changes instantly.

“What?! Brie has fainted?! I'll be right there…”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns and leaves.

The door closes. The sound echoes through the room.

I sit there for a long time. The papers lie untouched on the table, like a joke no one laughs at.

Finally, I pick up my phone. I scroll to an account with no name, no picture. My finger hovers, then presses call.

When the line connects, I speak without waiting.

“Do the words you said back then still count?”