Pregnancy

Valerie's POV

"Celia, darling—remind everyone here. Didn't you tell Kaelen he wasn't good enough for you?" I pushed, letting my words act as a verbal scalpel. I stripped away her crafted composure right before the watching crowd. "That you were leaving to find someone worthy of your time and status?"

The ballroom stirred, the collective gasp of the elite guests rippling through the massive space. Hundreds of eyes locked onto Celia. Her pale skin flushed a deep crimson under the heavy scrutiny.

"That was years ago," Celia stammered, her mask cracking under the pressure. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her expensive gown. "I came back to... to help..."

"Help with what, exactly?" I took a step closer. The click of my heel echoed in the quiet room. Kaelen’s muscles tensed. His hand twitched at his side. He wanted to silence me, but he did not dare risk a physical altercation with so many pack members and Council representatives watching our every move. "If by 'help' you mean climbing into bed with my husband, then I suppose I should thank you for making his betrayal so obvious to everyone in this room."

A sharp gasp escaped a nearby server, who nearly dropped her tray of champagne glasses. Another Alpha muttered a curse, shaking his head.

Real fear flickered in Celia's eyes. The murmuring pack was turning on her, and she knew her reputation was plummeting by the second. Playing the cornered victim, tears welled in her eyes, spilling over her painted lashes. She looked up at Kaelen, her voice breaking on cue.

"Alpha, I... I realize it was a mistake to come here tonight. I should leave before I cause you more trouble."

She pivoted toward the oak double doors, feigning a tearful exit. She made it exactly three slow steps before Kaelen’s hand darted out. He caught her arm. Time slowed to a crawl. I stood frozen, watching his strong fingers wrap possessively around her delicate wrist. He pulled her back, tucking her protectively against his broad chest. His arm slid around her shoulders, shielding her from my gaze and the crowd's judgment.

Every single wolf in the ballroom saw it. Every witness who had ever acknowledged our mate bond watched in breathless silence. My Alpha publicly chose his mistress over his rightful Luna.

The spiritual mark on my neck—the brand he gave me three years ago on our wedding night—ignited. It seared my flesh with the white-hot pain of a shattered bond. It was not the familiar warmth of a claimed mate, but the raw, blistering burn of a broken promise.

"Valerie," Kaelen warned. His voice vibrated with a cold Alpha command meant to force my submission and push me to my knees. "You know how important tonight is. I need this event to be flawless for the Council representatives."

His gaze bore into mine, carrying a clear threat.

"If you keep making a scene, it won't just be my reputation that suffers. Your perfume business, all those major contracts you have been negotiating for months—they will disappear overnight. I will make sure of it."

He hit me where he knew it would inflict the most damage. Half of my biggest clients stood in this very room, watching our marriage implode.

Something inside me snapped. I was done being his compliant puppet Luna. I refused to smile and nod while he paraded his infidelity in front of my face. I flashed him a smile sharp enough to draw blood.

"You are right, Alpha," I said, projecting my voice so the nearest cluster of gossiping elites caught every single syllable. "This celebration is far too important to ruin with the truth. So please, take excellent care of your ex. Just remember exactly where your wife sleeps when you are done with her."

I held his stare for one more second. I wanted him to see the ruins of the empire he just burned to the ground. Then, I turned sharply on my heel. I forced my spine rigid. I walked tall and unbroken through a parting sea of pitying stares. The crowd moved out of my path, clearing a wide berth as if I carried a contagious plague.

My heart shattered into pieces. Inside my mind, my inner wolf, Zira, whimpered in devastating retreat, her spirit crushed by our mate's public rejection. But I did not falter. My heels clicked against the marble, carrying me toward the exit with my head held high. Behind me, I heard Kaelen murmur something low and soothing to Celia. I heard her soft reply. Then, the music resumed, the string quartet playing a lively tune.

The celebration continued. I had just been erased from my own kingdom, and the party went on as if my sacrifice meant nothing.

* * *

I barely made it through the heavy oak of my front door before my legs gave out.

My hands slapped against the marble foyer, followed hard by my knees. The impact jarred my bones, sending shockwaves up my thighs, but it was a mere fraction of the agony spreading from my neck. I crawled over the polished floorboards, dragging my winter coat behind me like a wounded animal. I needed to reach the bathroom.

My palms hit the freezing bathroom tile. I shoved the toilet seat up just in time. My stomach heaved with brutal force, wrenching out bile and champagne I did not even remember drinking. My throat burned with stomach acid.

The fire in my mate mark intensified to an unbearable degree. It felt like a branding iron pressed directly into my flesh, leaving my skin raw and smoking.

"He is killing us," Zira howled in my mind, her voice laced with agony and despair. "Every time he touches her, every time he wants her, it kills us a little more."

Sitting there on the unforgiving tile, gasping for air, I finally understood the cruel truth of the Moon Goddess’s punishment. When the Alpha who marked you takes another female to his bed, your body bears the consequences. The bond forces the faithful mate to endure the betrayal in the flesh. Every thrust, every moan, every slick movement of his sexual pleasure translates into pure, searing pain for the rejected mate. The bond does not lie.

The realization hit me harder than the physical nausea. I thought back to the unexplained bouts of sickness over the last few weeks. The sudden weakness that struck me during crucial pack meetings, forcing me to grip the table to stay upright. The scorching burn on my neck that jolted me awake in the dead of night, leaving me gasping in the dark.

I thought I was just sick. I thought I was overworked and stressed from running the pack logistics and expanding my perfume business at the same time.

Now I knew the truth. Every single time my body mysteriously rebelled, it was because Kaelen was physically inside her. He was having sex with her in our territory. While I bled my soul dry building his empire and securing his borders, my body endured the physical agony of his unfaithfulness.

I sat hunched on the bathroom floor, my back pressed hard against the cold porcelain bathtub. I stared blankly at the opposite wall. I hated the Moon Goddess with every fiber of my being. She punished the loyal and let the betrayers walk free. She chained women to men who casually destroyed them, and she called it divine will. She watched her daughters suffer and did nothing to stop the torment.

I spent the entire night on that freezing floor, too weak to move, too broken to cry. Kaelen did not bother to come home.

* * *

The morning sun was already high, casting long shadows across my private office, when I heard the front door finally open. It was 8 AM.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. They did not head toward our shared master bedroom to check on me. They bypassed the kitchen. They headed straight for my office.

I stood behind my mahogany desk, setting my coffee cup down with a soft clink. I braced myself, turning to face the door.

Kaelen strode in without so much as a knock, invading my sanctuary. He still wore his rumpled suit from the night before. His tie hung loose around his unbuttoned collar, and his hair was a messy tangle. The moment he crossed the threshold, the smell hit me like a physical blow. He reeked of Celia's signature jasmine perfume, layered heavily over the unmistakable, pungent musk of sex.

The mark on my neck twinged, a sharp, biting reminder of what he had spent the entire night doing while I suffered on the floor.

We stared at each other in silence across ten feet of expensive carpet. He did not look ashamed. He did not carry the posture of an apologetic mate seeking forgiveness for his sins. His shoulders were set, his jaw tense but resolute.

Then, looking unapologetic, he opened his mouth and detonated my entire world.

"Celia is pregnant."