All Chapters of The Alpha King Is Our Daddy: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adeline’s POVI’d been waiting for the right moment to move, but patience was starting to taste like ash in my mouth.That morning, I’d wrestled Elijah into a neat shirt he swore felt like “sandpaper” and tied Caleb’s shoelaces three times before he finally left them alone. They’d dashed toward the school gates still arguing over who could run faster, but Caleb doubled back just long enough to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. I watched them disappear into the tide of other children, a quiet ache curling in my chest.Once they were gone, I buried myself in the herbal shop—measuring powders, bottling tinctures, smiling at customers who had no idea the quiet herbalist behind the counter had magic running in her veins.Sometimes I wondered if they would still smile back if they knew the truth. If they knew the harmless powders in their bags came from a woman whose blood carried more than herbs, whose children carried more than wolf or man. It was a strange kind of loneliness—being surround

Adeline’s POVI barely had time to set down the teacup before Caleb burst into the room, Elijah close on his heels, both wearing matching grins that always meant trouble or news. Caleb clutched a thin, cream-colored envelope like it might vanish if he let go.“Our teacher said we have to give this to our mom or dad,” he announced, chest puffed out. “Mrs. Darlene said it’s for a special party!”Elijah didn’t say a word, just lingered at my side, his eyes fixed on me as if gauging my reaction. I took the envelope, the faint scent of chalk dust and glue clinging to the paper, and slid a finger under the flap. Inside was an invitation printed with a looping gold script—an event for the kindergarten’s upcoming festival.The paper itself was too fine for something as simple as a school gathering, thick and smooth like it had been pressed for royalty instead of children. My thumb brushed the lettering, and for a moment the words blurred, as if they were trying to rearrange themselves. I had

Vincent’s POVThe council chamber was finally empty, save for the lingering scent of parchment, wax, and too many competing egos.I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. It had been another long day—border disputes in the west, a rogue sighting in the north, a trade agreement that three tribes were still arguing over like pups fighting for scraps. Being king meant my schedule was carved up by everyone else’s needs, leaving almost nothing that was mine.Some days it felt like the throne itself was hollowing me out, piece by piece. The council saw a crown, the tribes saw a shield, but none of them saw the man beneath. Nights bled into mornings without rest, and even when the halls emptied, their demands echoed in my head. My life belonged to them, yet the small, private parts I wanted to keep were slipping further from my grasp.Rowan lingered near the doorway, a stack of reports in his hands. “That covers everything urgent, Your Majesty,” he said, hesitating before

Adeline’s POV“Candy Aunty!”The childish cry tore through the chatter and music of the kindergarten party, sharp enough to make my pulse stumble. My hands froze around the plate I was holding, and my throat tightened before my eyes even found her.I knew that voice. Sweet and high-pitched, threaded with an excitement that could never be mistaken.Myra.She slipped free of Vincent’s hand before he could catch her. Her little white dress flared as she ran, ribbons bouncing with every step. She looked like a sprite darting across the grass, small feet kicking up petals, the crowd parting instinctively to let her through.“Candy Aunty!” she squealed again, arms already open.I dropped to my knees without thinking. Her tiny body collided with mine, and I caught her, holding on tight. My arms wrapped around her as though they’d always been meant to. The air filled with her scent—sweet as spring rain, threaded faintly with the herbs I always carried. My chest ached, hollow and full at the s

Adeline’s POVThe moment Vincent’s eyes moved to my boys, my resolve cracked at the edges. His stare was too intentional, too steady for my liking. It wasn’t the casual glance of a stranger. It was the gaze of a wolf who knew how to peel layers back, who searched for what shouldn’t be visible. My chest tightened. Did he sense it? The bloodline?I pressed my palm against my skirt, grounding myself. No, I reminded myself firmly. I had taken precautions. Ever since I decided to send the twins to kindergarten, I hadn’t missed a day of my rituals. Every bowl of porridge, every cup of milk, they carried powdered herbs I’d prepared in secret. Witch roots to cloud auras. Rosemary to bend scents. Dried bark to smother the threads of wolf pheromones. It was my perfect plan to keep them safe from all prying eyes.No one, not even Vincent, would smell anything but me. Their scent was cloaked in mine—my aura, my presence, my identity. That was the only reason we were safe.Still, as his eyes narro