0002: Thirty Days of Dad

Alice’s POV

"What?"

"Is this your new plan? To trap me again?" Benjamin’s voice dripped with contempt. "Did you run out of tricks, Alice? Is faking our son’s terminal illness really the best you could come up with?"

I couldn’t breathe. The hospital hallway seemed to close in around me, the walls pressing closer, the air growing thin.

"Benjamin, I’m not—this isn’t—"

"Let me guess. You want me to come home. You want me to play happy family. And then what? You’ll miraculously announce that Lucian is cured, and I’ll be so grateful I’ll forget all about the divorce?"

"No, Benjamin, please just listen—"

"I’ve already told you what I want. A divorce. That’s it. That’s the only thing I want to hear from you. So unless you’re calling to tell me you’ve finally agreed to sign the papers, we’re done here."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. The medical report crumpled in my grip, the words I had just read to him—Velmir’s Disease, terminal, one month—blurring before my eyes.

I had known Benjamin didn’t love me. I had known he resented our marriage, resented me, and resented the son I had given him. But this—this level of cruelty—I hadn’t been prepared for. And then, something inside me broke. Or maybe it had been broken for years, and I had only just noticed.

Four years. Four years of trying. Four years of hoping that one day he would look at me and see his wife instead of his mistake. Four years of making myself smaller, quieter, and less noticeable just to survive in a marriage that had never been mine.

Four years of watching my son reach for a father who was never there.

I thought about Lucian in that hospital bed. His small hands. His hopeful eyes. His voice asking if Daddy would come to his birthday.

I thought about what I would do—what I would give—to make sure my son’s last month was happy.

The answer was everything.

"Fine."

The word fell from my lips before I fully understood what I was saying.

"Fine what?"

"Fine, Benjamin. I agree to the divorce."

Silence stretched across the line. I had surprised him. Good.

"But I have one condition."

"Of course you do." His voice turned wary, suspicious. "What condition?"

"Lucian’s birthday is in one month. Until then, you come home. You eat at the table. You sit with him. You be his father."

"You’re blackmailing me into playing house."

"I’m trading you what you want for what he needs."

The next pause stretched even longer.

"And the so-called illness?"

"Talk to Dr. Morrison. He’ll show you the chart." The report felt steadier against my hip now. "But that isn’t what I’m asking. I’m asking if you can pretend, for thirty days, not to hate the boy I gave you."

I hadn’t planned to say it. The words came out anyway.

"Come to my office tomorrow," he said finally. "Bring the papers."

"Will you agree?"

"I’ll consider it."

The line went dead.

For a long minute, I kept the phone pressed to my ear. The heart monitor down the corridor kept its steady rhythm. I let it count for me—let it count until strength returned to my legs.

I had been telling myself I was managing. I had told myself that for four years.

Lucian was sleeping when I returned to the room. His small fist was curled around the stuffed wolf—the only thing his father had ever given him, the day he was born, and never replaced. Five years old in one month, and the wolf was almost as worn as I was.

I sat by his bed for a long time before I made my decision.

I wasn’t waiting until tomorrow.

~~~

The pack house was nearly empty at that hour. Night patrol was changing shifts, and the administrative wing lay in darkness. Only Benjamin’s office light remained on at the end of the hall.

I was three steps from the door when I heard Callum’s voice.

"—don’t understand why you’re even entertaining this. She’s clung to this marriage for years. Now suddenly she wants out?"

"She finally figured out I’m never going to love her." Benjamin sounded almost amused. "Took her long enough."

"And the condition?"

"Temporary. Thirty days of playing nice with the kid. I can do thirty days for what I get on the other side."

"What about Lisa?"

The pause that followed carried weight.

"Lisa’s still the one I want." Benjamin’s voice softened in a way it never had during our four years of marriage. "She always was. Now that she’s back… now that she’s unmarried and raising Lily on her own, I have a chance at the life I should’ve had."

"Alice is still your wife."

"A scheming woman." The familiar disgust returned to his voice. "I’ll never like her. If she hadn’t crawled into my bed that night, I’d never have touched her. Wouldn’t have looked twice. I married her because of public pressure and my father. I never wanted any of this."

"And the boy?"

"The boy was a mistake. A consequence of her manipulation. Every time I look at him, I see that night. Every time I see her, I feel disgusted by what she did. She used my trust, Callum. She climbed into my bed when I was at my weakest and took advantage of me. I will never forgive her for that."

I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle the sob rising in my throat. I had known. Of course I had known. Benjamin had never hidden his feelings. But hearing it laid out so plainly—so cruelly—was different.

He would never believe me. He would never believe that I hadn’t seduced him that night. He would never believe that he had been the one to force himself on me—drunk and grieving, calling me by Lisa’s name as he pushed me onto the bed.

He would never believe that I had said no. That I had tried to stop him. That I had cried the whole time. He would never believe that I was his mate.

The mate bond. Benjamin couldn’t feel it. Had never felt it. And because he couldn’t feel it, everything I said was a lie in his mind. Every explanation, every defense, every desperate attempt to make him understand—all lies. All schemes. All manipulations.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered now was Lucian.

I pushed open the door.

Benjamin and Callum both turned. Callum’s expression flickered with something that might have been guilt. Benjamin’s simply hardened.

"Alice." His voice was ice-cold. "I didn’t expect you tonight."

"I didn’t want to wait." I walked to his desk, my legs steadier than I felt. "The divorce papers. Where are they?"

Benjamin’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he pulled a folder from his desk drawer and slid it across to me.

I didn’t look at the terms. I didn’t care about the terms. I pulled a pen from the holder on his desk, flipped to the last page, and signed.

"I’ll sign," I said, "as soon as you promise me—in front of your Beta—that you will fulfill your end of the bargain. One month. Be a father to Lucian. A real father. That’s all I ask."

Benjamin studied me for a long moment. I wondered what he saw: the woman he hated? The woman he had spent four years punishing for a crime she didn’t commit? Or simply an obstacle to be removed?

"Fine," he said at last. "I’ll do it. You have my word."

"Your word isn’t worth much to me anymore, Benjamin. But I don’t have any other choice."

I signed the paper. My signature—Alice Watson—looked small and insignificant next to his. Four years of marriage, reduced to a few strokes of a pen.

"Starting tomorrow," I said, sliding the folder back to him. "Lucian will be discharged in the morning. He’ll expect you at breakfast."

I turned and walked out of his office without looking back. Behind me, I heard the sharp click of heels on marble.

"Benjamin? Is everything alright? I saw Alice leaving…"

I didn’t stay to hear his response. I didn’t need to. I already knew what he would say.