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Chapter (3)

  1. Home
  2. My Alpha Impregnated His Stepmom
  3. Chapter (3)
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Ch. Impregnated 3 Impregnated 3

Ch. Impregnated 3 Impregnated 3

apter 3

After we return to our little corner at the pack’s edge, Dean won’t stop crying.

I hold him close.

“Dean,” I whisper, “if Mommy wanted to take you away from here… would you come with me?”

He looks up, tears clinging to his lashes.

“Are we really gonna leave?”

I nod. “We don’t belong here.”

“But… Daddy and the Matriarch hate us.” He pauses. “Do I really have to call him ‘Uncle’ forever?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer—just clutches the little metal wolf tighter.

The one Thorne gave him last year on his naming day.

“Mommy…” he says softly, “can I just have one more birthday with Daddy?”

I close my eyes and pull him closer.

“…Yes.”

—

Two days later, it’s Dean’s birthday.

I send word ahead, asking Thorne to come. One last chance—for father and son.

That morning, Dean puts on his only black formal outfit. He keeps asking me the same thing:

“Mommy, Daddy’s gonna come today, right?”

“He will,” I say gently, sending another wolf with the same message.

But the hours pass. The messenger returns, empty-pawed.

Dean lowers his head, fingers playing with the red ribbon on the cake box.

“…Daddy’s not coming, is he?”

He forces a smile.

“Uncle’s probably too busy. We shouldn’t bother him.”

It’s the first time he calls Thorne Uncle.

Not because he accepts it.

But because he’s learning to follow the rules.

I crush the message scroll in my fist, ready to throw it into the fire.

That’s when another servant rushes in, panting.

“A command from the main hall—the Alpha wants you and the child present.”

My heart leaps.

I tear open the scroll, my hands trembling.

I hand it to Dean, barely able to speak.

“Look… Daddy remembered.”

Dean’s face lights up.

“He did! He really did! Mommy, maybe he even brought a gift!”

The whole way there, he guesses aloud.

“Is it a battle-wolf plushie? Or a flame wolf that transforms?!”

But the moment we reach the main hall entrance, I stop dead in my tracks.

The red moon roses are everywhere.

The decorations are too… elaborate. Too romantic.

This isn’t for a child.

Dean tugs me forward, not noticing.

I follow, but my legs feel heavier with each step.

Thorne, not today. Don’t do this to him today.

Inside, the lights blaze.

The pack elders, bloodline families, Alphas from other branches—all gathered.

And standing at the front of the hall…

Thorne.

Next to him—Liora.

Dean’s eyes go wide.

“Daddy!”

He runs toward him, arms open.

The entire hall falls silent.

Thorne stares down at him, frozen.

“…Why are you here?”

That pause—those words—stab me straight in the chest.

Whispers start swirling.

“Isn’t today the engagement ceremony?”

“A kid? Whose is he?”

“I thought he never marked a mate.”

“Some bastard left over from a fling?”

Thorne’s face darkens.

He pushes Dean back.

“What did you just call me?”

Dean stumbles, falls hard. He looks around—realizing.

His eyes redden. But he swallows the hurt and whispers,

“…Uncle Thorne.”

He slowly gets to his feet. His eyes land on the cake in the center of the hall.

He tries to smile.

“Uncle… you’re here for my birthday too, right?

Can we cut the cake together?”

He stands tall as he can, smiling through trembling lips.

I feel my heart scrape open inside my chest.

Thorne says nothing.

Liora steps forward, raising her glass.

“Thank you all for joining us for our engagement ceremony.”

Dean freezes.

Today is his birthday.

And they chose this day—

to celebrate their love.

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Doomed

Doomed

I Relinquished My Daughter, and His Pack Crumbled

I Relinquished My Daughter, and His Pack Crumbled

Revenge of the Bride

Revenge of the Bride

Seven Minutes Before the College Application

Seven Minutes Before the College Application

I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her

I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her

Your Love Means Nothing

Your Love Means Nothing

Your Military Merits to Your Brother

Your Military Merits to Your Brother

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