All Chapters of FATED TO MY STEPBROTHER ALPHA.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Scarlett's POV. The phone ringing shattered the silence between us. One of the men glanced at the screen before walking over to Braxton. "Alpha, your Luna is calling." Luna. The word hit me harder than it should have. My fingers curled against my skirt as I kept my head lowered, afraid that if I looked at him for too long, he'd recognise me despite the mask. Of course he had a Luna. Five years had passed. Five years since I'd disappeared from his life without a single explanation. What had I expected? That he'd spend every day mourning a woman who had betrayed him? That he'd refuse to move on because of a promise we'd made as reckless teenagers? A bitter smile tugged at my lips. How foolish. The men waited for Braxton to answer the call, but instead, he glanced at the phone before lifting one hand. "Later." He dismissed it. His Beta frowned. "Alpha, it's your…" "I said later." He growled low. The room fell silent again. No one questioned him. No on

Scarlett's POV. "You're just another whore now." He sneered. "And you'll do what a whore is paid to do." The words struck me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. For a heartbeat, I could only stare at him. Five years ago, Braxton had glared at any pack member who dared look at me for too long. He used to drape his jacket over my shoulders whenever he thought my dress showed too much skin, muttering that I belonged in his arms, not beneath another man's eyes. Now those same eyes looked at me with nothing but contempt. The ache in my chest spread until it became difficult to breathe, but I forced every tear back. Crying wouldn't change his mind, and it certainly wouldn't pay for the treatment waiting for my son. Braxton leaned back against the leather sofa, every movement slow and deliberate. He spread his legs, his posture calm, commanding, and utterly merciless. "You asked if I'd let you leave," he said, his voice frighteningly even. "Here's your deal."

Scarlett's POV. The sliding glass doors parted with a soft hiss, and I sprinted into the hospital lobby. My chest burned with every shallow breath. Sweat slicked my hairline, sticking dark strands of hair to my skin, but I couldn't slow my pace. Every minute I had wasted arguing with Braxton, every second spent kneeling in that hotel suite, weighed on my chest like lead. While I was letting him degrade me for paper bills, my four-year-old son was suffocating in an emergency room bed. If I hadn't let Braxton drag out his twisted game, I would have been here twenty minutes ago. The nurse behind the admissions counter stood up the moment my feet hit the tile floor. "Thank God you're here, Scarlett," she said, quickly rounding the corner with a clipboard clutched against her scrub top. "Where is he?" My voice was barely a sound. I had to grip the edge of the counter to keep my legs under me. "Where's Micah?" "He took a severe turn ten minutes ago," she said, her voice fas

Braxton's POV. Some bargains aren't negotiations. They're sentences. I sat back in my leather chair, watching Scarlett turn toward the heavy oak door of my office. Her back was rigid, her chin held high in that foolish, stubborn defiance she always wore like armor. She actually believed she had a choice. She actually believed she could just turn around, walk out into the cold night air, and leave me behind a second time. Five years ago, I let her walk away because I was soft. Because I loved her enough to let her shatter me. I wasn't that man anymore. "You're very quick to refuse, Scarlett," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. She stopped, her hand hovering inches from the bronze door handle. She didn't turn around immediately, but I saw the subtle tension locked in her shoulders. "I gave you my answer, Braxton," she said, her tone laced with a desperate kind of strength. "I'm leaving." "You can walk out that door," I replied smoothly

Braxton's povI hated everything the child represented.So why couldn't I stop watching him?Every single time my eyes landed on that tiny boy, a violent, suffocating rage twisted through my chest like rusted iron. He was living, breathing proof that Scarlett had belonged to someone else during those five long years away from me. Another man had held her in the dark. Another man had touched her skin, whispered in her ear, and given her a child while I was left rotting inside the quiet, empty halls of Grimholt Manor.Yet here I was, standing in the shadow of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows inside my second-floor office, staring down into the central courtyard like a man possessed.The afternoon sun was sinking low over the mountain ridge, casting long, amber shadows across the manicured lawns. Down on the stone patio below, the boy was wandering aimlessly near the marble fountain. He had an oversized winter coat wrapped around his frail frame, his tiny hands shoved deep into hi