Rejected and Pregnant with Alpha Twins のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

~Selene’s POV~"Congratulations, Luna Ashford. You're going to be a mother."Dr. Priya Noel's voice is still ringing in my ears as I step out of the private clinic and into the pale afternoon light.I stop on the pavement, pressing one hand flat against the cold stone wall to steady myself, the other instinctively falling to my stomach.A mother.I've waited two and a half years for this. Two and a half years of quiet hoping, of mornings where I'd stare at negative tests and force a smile before heading downstairs to make Caden his coffee. Two and a half years of swallowing the ache every time a pack member's mate cradled a newborn at a gathering.And now, here it is.A tiny, impossible miracle growing inside of me.I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to call Caden right now, hear his voice go rough with that specific tenderness he reserves only for me, hear him say something ridiculous and wonderful like he always does when something matters to him.My driver, Marco, is waiting at

~Selene’s POV~I hang up.I don't think about it — my thumb simply moves and the call ends and I stand on the pavement outside the flower stall with my heart hammering so loud I can hear it in my temples.Three seconds later, she calls again.I watch the screen. Let it ring. Let it ring. Let it ring.Then silence.A text arrives.Don't be childish, Selene. I only want to talk. Woman to woman. Meet me at the Ivory Lounge. One hour.I stare at the message until the letters blur.Every rational part of me says no. Every instinct I have, honed by three years of navigating pack politics and the sharp-edged social world that came with being Caden's Luna, says that walking into a room with Vivienne Cole is walking into a trap.But then there's the other part of me. The part that is furious.The part that wants to look her in the eye.---The Ivory Lounge is tucked at the edge of Cresthaven's upscale quarter — white linen, low lighting, the kind of place where people come to be seen or to be

~Caden’s POV~Four months.Four months since she walked out of this building and I have done nothing but work, manage, control, and refuse to think about the precise way she looked when the bond broke — the colour that left her face, the sound she didn't quite manage to suppress.I spin my phone slowly on my desk.It's eleven at night and the Pack Hall is empty except for me and the security rotation downstairs.Rhys, my Beta, has been on my case for weeks. He stopped pretending to be subtle about it approximately three weeks ago and graduated to blunt, bordering on insubordinate."She's gone," he'd told me last Tuesday, standing in this very doorway with his arms crossed and that particular look he reserves for when he thinks I'm being an idiot. "And whatever you think happened, you should have at least heard her side of it."I'd told him to drop it.He didn't. He never does.I pull up the browser on my phone. Type Selene's name. Delete it. Put the phone face-down on the desk.The pr

~Selene’s POV~My mother is waiting at the bottom of the stone steps.She doesn't ask questions. She doesn't say anything at all when I come through the Pack Hall doors and down the wide stone staircase, one hand trailing the rail because my legs are still deciding whether they will cooperate. She simply steps forward and puts her arm through mine, and we walk together to the car.I don't look back at the building.---The drive out of Cresthaven takes eleven minutes.I know because I watch the clock on the dashboard the way I have trained myself to watch things when the alternative is feeling them. Seven forty-three when we pull away from Pack Hall. Seven forty-nine when we pass the turn for Larkspur Lane, already curtains drawn, already empty. Seven fifty-four when the last of the town's buildings drops away and the road narrows into the long stretch of pine-edged tarmac that leads south.She drives with both hands on the wheel and her eyes forward.The pain from the severance has s

~Selene’s POV~The search takes most of the morning.I sit at the small table with my phone and the notepad Miriam has left beside the kettle, and I work through it methodically — not the way someone searches in desperation, but the way someone builds a list. High-risk obstetric specialist. Supernatural pregnancy experience. Silvermere and within reasonable distance. I write down four names before I start eliminating. One is retired. One has a waiting list measured in months. One has a clinic website that hasn't been updated since before I was married, which tells me something, though I couldn't say precisely what.The fourth is Dr. Amara Osei.Her practice is listed under a quiet street in the city's northern quarter. The clinic's registration is current. Her credentials include a subspecialty notation in supernatural maternal care that the other three do not. There are no photographs on the website, no curated testimonials. Just the qualifications and the address and a phone number.