Rejected By The Alpha Heir; His Daddy Will Do

Valerie's POV

~~~~~

I should have known something was wrong the moment I heard my best friend’s ringtone in my husband’s house.

I'm barely able to hold my phone between both hands, struggling to hang up as the ringing persists. It stops, my heart hooking in my throat the next second.

I just gave birth minutes ago… or at least I think I did. I am lying on a bed in a well-furnished room somewhere in Draven's Bel Air mansion.

Sound, smell — all my five senses are overwhelmed. Still, I manage to sit through the pain, much to the shock and panic of the doctors.

“Mrs Mourningale,” one of them quickly rushes to my side, attempting to grab my shoulder. “You can't move around like that. We still need to check—”

“Where's my baby?” I ask flatly, staring into his nervous blue eyes. “My husband was in this room. I heard him come in and then my… my baby's cries…”

My throat tightens like there’s glass struggling to slide down. I place a hand on it, lips trembling. “Just get me Draven and my baby. I haven't even held him.”

The doctor beside me glances at his female colleague who seems just about done with me. She clears her throat, the familiar glint of disdain in her eyes.

“The child is being bathed now. You need—”

“I don't fucking care if the pope himself came here to wash him up!” I snap. “Where is my baby?”

They jolt but I've had enough, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

“Draven?! Draven, are you out there?!”

The doctors exchange another look and ease away from me, heading for the door. I ignore them, fumbling with my phone to call Naomi's number again.

“Maybe she can have the child one last time after the baptism is complete.” The male doctor mutters loud enough for me to hear.

The female one harrumphs as they open the door. “She's fortunate Sir Draven let her have the baby here. Can you believe the nerves of this—”

I'm not able to follow the conversation as the door shuts. Leaving me in a harsh silence.

“B–Baptism?” My brows furrow.

Draven never mentioned anything about being Catholic. Besides, I've known the man for two years. He's hardly a believer so why the fuck would he have our baby ‘baptised’ when it's barely taken its first breaths?

Nope—I have to get up and find him.

I grit my teeth, flinging aside the bed sheets. I slowly lower my feet to the marble floor, drawing in quick, short breaths as every movement brings a new strain to my joints.

The moment my feet touch the ground, I gasp, blinking back tears. Jesus Christ, that felt like stepping on nails. I've heard all about postpartum pains. But this?

I tremble as I lift myself off the bed, keeping my lips shut to avoid letting out a sound. I take one step forward. Then another.

As I inch toward the mahogany door ahead, I lift my phone to my face again. I click on Naomi's contact, attempting another call.

This time, it goes straight to voicemail, forcing me to leave a message: “Girl, I heard your phone ringing somewhere back here. Did you come already? Please, call me. D–Draven took the baby and I—”

I freeze when laughter echoes from the other side of the door. A female voice murmurs something I can’t make out, and a male voice chuckles in response.

Not just any male either.

“Draven?” I lower my phone, head tilting as I move for the door again.

My heart drops when it bursts open.

Draven's tall form is the first thing I take in. His broad shoulders—more defined by the tight white shirt he has on. The wolfish curve of his bright white teeth. And those hazel eyes, pinning on me with surprise.

“Oh,” he pauses, “Valerie. Already up and running?”

I'm barely able to hear his words when my gaze trails to the woman beside him. Clinging to his arm like a leech. A cruel smile stretches her lips as she stares at me with an odd mix of mockery and pity.

A sharp pain twists my chest, my legs wobbling. “N–Naomi?”

She guffaws, placing her other hand on Draven's chest. “Val, darling. You kept disturbing me with those calls like some greedy mutt,” she rakes her fingers to my husband's stomach, “so we decided to speed run things and come see you.”

In contrast to her cheery demeanour, Draven's eyes hold neither amusement nor warmth. He casually pulls out a big envelope, handing it to me.

My eyes flit from him to the outstretched envelope repeatedly. I take it reluctantly, a hollow ache spreading through my stomach.

Somehow I knew what it was going to be. But I didn't want to believe it, until I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the piece of paper in it.

The world tilts beneath my feet when I see the words written in bold at the top.

“In case you're too disoriented to read,” Draven says plainly, “those are divorce papers. You've fulfilled your part of the original contract so I see no use in wasting any time with it.”

I blink at him, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. The way he utters it makes it sound like he's waited for this moment since the beginning.

Since the day he first approached me—a mere employee at his family's company—and gave me a contract. To get married to him and bear his heir.

“Draven,” the name rushes out of my mouth before I can stop it, “Draven, we… we were getting closer. You told me you love me the other night. Remember that?”

He snorts a humourless laugh. “I was drunk. It's not my fault you fell for the words of a drunk man.” The original iciness returns to his voice. “If anything that shows how much of a gold-digging fool you are. Thinking you'd have a chance with me.”

His grip around Naomi's waist tightens. “Naomi has been the one I wanted all this time. The only woman fit to be mine. To lead by my side.”

Every word stings more than the last.

My fists tremble beside me as I glare at Naomi. “How could you? Y–You’re the one who advised me to take up his offer to begin with.”

“All part of the plan, sweetie,” She purrs. “You're fertile. Young… and from the looks of things, strong too. All perfect for our baby.”

Those last few words disintegrate whatever is left of my sanity. I lunge at her, grabbing fists full of her raven black hair before she can react.

“You're evil!” I scream despite the pain throbbing through me. “Pure evil. I–I was alright on my own. I trusted—”

She doesn't let me finish, somehow flinging me back with a shove. The world snaps as I fall back first to the cold floor, my right elbow taking most of the hit.

“You grovelling bitch!” She sneers. “How dare you? You should be grateful we gave you space in OUR relationship. To have OUR heir!”

I can barely catch my breath from the shaking sobs cracking out of me when a strong hand grabs my arm. Draven pulls me up, ignoring my whimpers as he barks:

“Touch my woman like that again and I'll rip you to shreds!” He makes sure I'm looking right into those predatory orbs. “Sign the papers and stop making such a fuss.”

He releases me like my touch sickens him, letting me wobble back to the floor. I shudder, palms splayed on the ground as tears pour down my cheeks.

“M–My baby…” I croak. “Please. Let me see him… one last time. Please—”

Neither of them gives me a listening ear. The door already shut me in when I lift my head. I clutch my dress, biting hard on my bottom lip until it tears.

“Draven.” I weep. “How… could you do this to me?! Draven, please…”

I lie on the floor, keeping my face against it as more tears stream out. This is a nightmare.

Two years.

Two years of proximity, night dates and intimacy that felt way too real. Two years of empty promises and fairytale dreams. All washed down the drain like it meant nothing.

I grab the divorce papers again, finding a pen in the envelope. Between my sobbing, coughing and sniffling, I get on my knees, scrambling to sign it.

The moment my signature—and tears—are on the paper, my fingers curl into fists. I crawl to the bed, a decision slowly blooming in my chest.

They have to pay.

I will not let them get away with this.

A broken laugh slips past my lips.

Draven Mourningale made one mistake.

He let me live.