Chapter Two

The white paper lining of the examination table crinkled loudly under my weight as I finally slid my feet onto the cold floor.

I picked up the phone. A single jagged crack now ran entirely across the screen, splitting Dorian’s face right down the center of the text notification.

I shoved the device deep into my purse, my fingers shaking so violently I could barely pull the zipper shut.

A sharp knock suddenly broke the heavy silence.

"Selene? Are you dressed?" Dr. Voss called out from the hallway.

I swallowed hard, forcing a ragged breath into my lungs. "Yes," I called back.

The door swung open, and she stepped inside holding a small white pharmacy bag and a black-and-white printout. She offered me a warm, professional smile.

"Here are your prenatal vitamins," she said, handing over the bag. "And here is your official ultrasound photo. Put it somewhere safe."

I looked at the grainy image in her hand.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She frowned, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "Are you alright? You look incredibly pale all of a sudden. Did the morning sickness just hit?"

"Yes," I lied instantly, clutching the bag tightly against my chest. "Just a sudden wave of dizziness. I need to go home and lie down."

"Good. Make sure Dorian takes care of you tonight. No stress."

I forced a stiff nod and walked out before she could question me further.

The clinic corridor felt endless. Every person I passed looked so normal. They were smiling, living their best life. Whereas, I just found out mine ended years ago.

The automatic glass doors slid open, and a blast of afternoon air hit my face. I practically stumbled out into the parking lot, reaching my sedan and locking myself inside the driver's seat.

For a long time, I simply sat there, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned completely white. My chest was so tight I could barely draw a full breath. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. The pain was too deep for that. It felt like a physical wound.

I turned the key and the engine hummed to life.

The forty-five-minute drive back to the Crimson Vale pack house passed in a blur of bitter memories. Six years of cooking his meals, keeping his house, and enduring his cold stares. Six years of bleeding my soul dry to be a perfect, submissive wife while he spent his nights whispering my worthlessness into another woman's neck.

A wave of intense nausea hit me. I pulled the car up, threw the door open, and dry-heaved into the grass. My body shook violently, but nothing came up. My stomach was completely empty.

I wiped my mouth, leaning my forehead against the cold leather of the steering wheel. My hand slowly crept down to my flat stomach.

Dorian didn't deserve this baby. He didn't deserve to know that a piece of him was growing inside the woman he called "nothing." He didn't deserve the heir he so desperately wanted just to impress his terrifying father, the Alpha King.

I put the car back in drive and pulled onto the empty road. 

Ten minutes later, the iron gates of the Crimson Vale pack house came into view. As I pulled up the long, winding driveway, my heart spiked hard.

Dorian's luxury silver sports car was parked right in front of the main entrance.

He hadn't left the territory for his meeting at all.

I turned off the engine, grabbed my purse, and stepped out of the car. My legs felt heavy as I walked up the stone steps, then I pushed the front door open.

The house was quiet. I walked across the living area and rounded the corner into the kitchen, needing a glass of water to stop my throat from burning.

Dorian was sitting at the island. He was wearing a casual gray designer sweater, a glass of orange juice in his hand, casually scrolling through his digital tablet.

He looked completely normal. Perfectly groomed. There was no guilt on his face, he didn't even raise his eyes when I walked in.

"You're late," he said smoothly, his tone laced with his usual irritation. "The maids forgot to starch my shirts for the Alpha council meeting tomorrow. Make sure you handle it before tonight."

I stood at the edge of the kitchen, my fingers curling into tight fists at my sides. I stared at his profile, the man I had loved for six years, and realized I was looking at a total stranger.

"Dorian," I called, my voice cutting through the quiet room, colder and sharper than it had ever been.

He clicked his tongue, his eyes still glued to his tablet. "What, Selene? I’m busy."

I took a slow step forward, the anger in me solidifying into pure resolve.

"I want a divorce.”