The Night He Rejected Me

The rain in Seattle didn’t wash things clean; it only made the grime on the sidewalk slicker, a treacherous path for anyone foolish enough to run in heels. But Emily Reed didn’t care about the rain, or the cold seeping into her threadbare coat, or the fact that she was twenty minutes late to meet the man who held her heart in his manicured hands.

She cared about the small white stick tucked safely inside her purse.

Two pink lines.

A smile tugged at her lips, fighting against the biting wind. For three years, she had been the invisible girl on Ryan Evans’s arm. The human girl. The weak link. In a world dominated by powerful bloodlines and old money, Emily was a nobody. She was an orphan with no connections, working as a junior archivist in the basement of Evans Enterprises.

But Ryan had chosen her. The billionaire CEO, the man whose face graced the cover of Forbes and whose presence commanded silence in boardrooms, had chosen her.

"He loves me," she whispered to the storm, needing to hear it aloud. "And now... we’re going to be a family."

She reached the towering glass monolith of Evans Tower. The security guard, a burly man named Marcus who usually greeted her with a warm nod, was absent. In his place stood a stranger with cold, dark eyes who barely glanced at her ID badge before waving her through.

Emily brushed off the unease settling in her gut. Tonight was special. It was their three-year anniversary. Ryan had told her to come up to the penthouse suite, the private place he rarely invited anyone into. He had hinted at a surprise. A ring, perhaps?

Her heart fluttered as the golden elevator doors slid shut. She watched the numbers climb, her hand instinctively going to her flat stomach. She wasn't just a poor human girl anymore. She was the mother of a billionaire’s heir. Surely, that would bridge the gap between their worlds. Surely, his family would have to accept her now.

The elevator dinged softly, opening directly into the penthouse foyer.

Emily stepped out, expecting soft jazz, maybe the scent of the expensive amber candles Ryan loved. Instead, the air was thick with a heavy, musk-like scent. It was overwhelming, primal, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Ryan?" she called out softly.

She walked across the marble floor, her wet sneakers squeaking slightly. She winced at the sound, bending down to toe them off. As she straightened, her eyes caught a splash of color on the pristine white rug near the living room archway.

A red dress.

Not just any dress. It was silk, designer, and shredded at the seams as if it had been torn off in a frenzy.

Emily’s breath hitched. A cold, leaden weight dropped into her stomach, extinguishing the warmth of her earlier excitement. She took a step forward, her legs feeling like they were moving through water.

Don’t look. Turn around. Leave.

But she couldn’t. She had to know.

She moved toward the master bedroom. The double doors were ajar, and voices drifted out. "Ryan, you’re insatiable," a woman’s voice purred. It was a voice Emily recognized instantly. Claire Johnson. The daughter of a rival billionaire, a woman who walked with the grace of a panther and had made it her life’s mission to remind Emily of her inferiority.

"Only for you, Claire," Ryan’s voice replied

"You know how long I’ve waited to claim a real mate."

Real mate.

The words hung in the air, sharp and severing.

Emily pushed the door open.

The scene before her was like a tableau of her worst nightmares. The sheets of the massive king-sized bed were tangled around two bodies. Ryan, her Ryan, was hovering over Claire, his back muscles rippling in the dim light. But there was something wrong; shadows seemed to cling to him, his canines looked too sharp, his eyes glowing a faint, eerie amber.

Claire saw her first.

The woman didn’t scream or cover herself. She simply smiled, a cruel, triumphant curving of red lips. She tapped Ryan on the shoulder, her nails sharp as claws. "Darling. We have an audience."

Ryan froze. He turned slowly, his glowing eyes landing on Emily. For a second, he looked monstrous. Then he blinked, the glow fading, replaced by a mask of cold indifference.

He didn't scramble to cover himself. He didn't look ashamed. He just sat up, raking a hand through his disheveled hair, and looked at Emily as if she were a maid who had walked in to clean at the wrong time.

"You're early," he said flatly.

Emily stood paralyzed in the doorway, her hands shaking where they clutched her purse. The pregnancy test felt heavy, like a stone. "Why?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Ryan... today is our anniversary."

Claire laughed, a tinkling, icy sound. She sat up, the sheet pooling at her waist, exposing the perfect, unmarked skin of her chest. "Oh, you sweet, pathetic little human. Did you really think today was about you?"

"Shut up, Claire," Ryan muttered, though there was no heat in it. He stood up, walking naked toward the dresser to grab a pair of silk boxers. He pulled them on with agonizing slowness. "Emily, you shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be here?" Emily’s shock was rapidly melting into a searing, white-hot anger. "I’ve given you three years of my life, Ryan! I thought... I thought you loved me."

Ryan turned to face her, leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at her with a chilling detachment. "I cared for you, Emily. In a way. You were... convenient. Sweet. Uncomplicated. A nice distraction while I solidified my position in the company."

"A distraction?" She felt like she’d been slapped.

"My father is stepping down," Ryan explained, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. "To take over the Evans empire and the Pack, I need a Luna. A partner with power. With bloodlines." He gestured to Claire, who was now sauntering toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Claire is a Beta's daughter. She brings territory, alliances, strength. You bring... nothing."

"I bring love!" Emily cried, tears finally spilling over, hot and stinging. "Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Love is a human weakness," Claire sneered, resting her chin on Ryan’s shoulder. "Wolves don't need love, little girl. We need power. We need legacy."

Wolves.

Emily stepped back, her mind reeling. She had always known Ryan was different, stronger, faster, prone to odd disappearances during the full moon. She had dismissed the rumors of "shifters" and "packs" as urban legends or metaphors for the ruthless rich. But looking at them now, feeling the oppressive energy radiating off them, she realized the terrifying truth.

"You're... you're one of them," she breathed.

"I am an Alpha," Ryan corrected, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating in her chest. "And Alphas do not mate with weak humans."

Emily felt a wave of dizziness. She clutched the doorframe to steady herself. This was the man she had planned to marry? The man whose child she carried?

The baby.

Her hand went to her stomach again. Ryan’s eyes tracked the movement. His gaze sharpened, narrowing instantly. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

The silence that followed was terrifying.

"You smell different," Ryan said, pushing Claire aside. He took a step toward Emily, his expression shifting from indifference to something dangerous. "Your scent... it’s changed. Milk and... fresh blood."

Emily backed away, her heart hammering against her ribs like a sledgehammer. "Stay away from me."

"Tell me," Ryan commanded. It wasn't a request. It was an order that compelled her to answer.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out, the words torn from her throat before she could stop them.

Claire gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "A half-breed? She’s carrying a half-breed pup?"

Ryan stopped dead. He stared at Emily’s stomach, his face unreadable. For a fleeting second, Emily hoped. Maybe, just maybe, the instinct of fatherhood would override his ambition. Maybe he would see this child as his legacy.

"Ryan?" she whispered, pleading. "It’s yours. A baby. We can..."

"Get rid of it," Ryan said.