PREGNANT FOR THE ALPHA I NEVER MET

MILLIE-ROSE'S POV

There was a knot in my stomach. A gnawing, ominous anxiety. The more I scrolled through the comments, the tighter it pulled. I was almost gasping in the confinement of my car, the tinted windows doing nothing to stop the feeling of claustrophobia creeping up my spine.

"Wow, congratulations to her."

"She's a pretty actress. I've been a fan of hers since she was little. It's so great seeing her getting married."

"But isn't she too young? Congratulations anyway."

I kept scrolling, searching for the comment that had triggered this unease but nothing stood out. They were all the usual suspects. Well-wishers. Haters. Keyboard warriors dissecting every inch of my public life like they paid rent in it.

With a frustrated sigh, I locked my phone and dropped it into my purse like it had personally offended me. I leaned back in the leather seat and took a deep breath. Maybe that would help. It didn't. The knot stayed, unmoved and unbothered.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Was this... wedding jitters? Was it normal to feel this twisted up inside the day before your wedding?

I wouldn't know. I've never been married before. I never had a mother to guide me through moments like these. She died when I was five. Her absence was a void I had long stopped trying to fill.

My stepmother? Yeah, asking her about "wedding nerves" would earn me an eye-roll and probably an insult or three. We weren't exactly swapping mother-daughter advice.

So how was I supposed to know if this feeling was normal?

"We're here, Ma'am," the driver said as the car rolled to a stop.

"Oh," I murmured, glancing out the tinted window. The towering glass structure of my modeling agency loomed ahead, crisp and intimidating under the mid-morning sun.

Callie had sent my schedule already, two photoshoots: Vogue and Elle, a lunch meeting with the directors of my upcoming movie role, and a bachelorette party later tonight.

And tomorrow?

I was supposed to become one with Silas Butt.

Everything should feel... perfect. But my chest was tight. My palms, clammy. I was nauseous. A gnawing anxiety that clung to me like perfume I didn't remember spraying.

Was it my dress? An allergic reaction? What do I even blame this on?

"Ma'am?" The driver gently called again, likely noticing how zoned out I was.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, shaking off the fog in my head as I grabbed my purse and stepped out.

I put on the most collected expression I could muster, smoothing out invisible creases on my blouse. Showbiz rule 101: keep it cute even when you're dying inside.

"Good morning, Ma'am. Congratulations on your wedding tomorrow!" one of the security guards greeted me with a wide grin.

"Thank you. Good morning," I replied, smiling politely as I passed through the lobby.

It wasn't just the guards, nearly everyone in the building offered a wave, a smile, a compliment about my wedding. I responded to each of them like clockwork, but I only truly breathed when I stepped into the solitude of the elevator. There, I finally let myself close my eyes and pull in deeper, longer breaths.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped out, heading toward my changing room. But something tugged at my attention...Mr. Dan's office was just a few steps away. I figured I'd say a quick hello before getting ready.

Except as I approached, voices filtered through the half-closed door. The words made me slow to a stop.

"Oh, she's so pathetic. I mean, she's got all this glam and yet zero brain," came a giggle. That was Roe. One of the other models. One of the loudest ones.

"I know, right?" Daisy chimed in. "Like why would she get married now? She's going to tank her whole career. Just watch. She's too dumb to see it."

My gut twisted tighter.

Ah. Another roast session. These girls never missed an opportunity to gather like mean witches and rip me apart for sport. I'd known about their little gossip circles for years. And yet, I never confronted them. Why give them the satisfaction?

But then I heard another voice... one that sent a chill down my spine.

"All that beauty gone to waste," Mr. Dan scoffed.

What? Mr Dan?

Since when did he become part of the clique?

"I wish someone would warn her," he added mockingly. "The poor girl. She's dealing with trash."

A tightness formed in my chest. Warn me? Warn me about what? And how am I dealing with trash?

I was struggling with the thought of barging in to ask him what they should warn me about and what trash had to do with me when someone else spoke up.

"Why should we warn her?" Roe hissed. "She walks around like she's better than everyone. Let her find out the hard way."

"She's got nothing but her pretty face. No mother, a greedy father who uses her, a stepsister from hell... and a fiancé..."

My breath hitched.

A fiancé?

Silas?

Why was he suddenly on this ugly list?

He's the only one who's ever shown me true kindness. He's patient. Gentle. Nothing like the family I was cursed with. So why was he being dragged into this?

"...a fiancé who doesn't love her," Mr. Dan finished.

The words slammed into me like a truck.

They weren't done. But I was already crumbling.

"If only she knew he's only marrying her for the inheritance," Roe whispered.

"What inheritance?" Daisy gasped.

"You don't know? Her late mother left a fortune behind. She can't touch it until she gets married or turns twenty-five. No one talks about it, but it's true..."

Gasps echoed. My blood ran cold.

Enough.

I staggered away from the door, my legs shaky, my thoughts spinning. My instincts dragged me to the elevator, then out the building entirely. I barely noticed the greetings or questions thrown my way. I had only one thought in my head

Silas.

He had to explain this. My inheritance was a secret. Barely anyone knew. So how did those hyenas find out?

What did they mean he didn't love me?

My heart pounded like war drums. My hands trembled. I was a breath away from throwing up. But I held it all in.

I needed answers. And I needed them now.

The driver pulled up the car just in time, and I climbed in wordlessly.

Thirty minutes later, I was at Silas's door.

It was locked...but I had a key.

My hands trembled as I pushed it into the lock and turned it open.

"Silas, I..." My voice faltered.

Everything inside me collapsed at the scene before me.

Moans filled the air like sirens. My steps slowed, paralyzed. My mouth fell open.

My phone dropped to the floor with a loud crack.

In front of me, wrapped in each other like lovers in a bad romance novel, were Silas...

...and my stepsister. Martha.

MILLIE-ROSE'S POV

What's going on here? The question echoed in my head like a sick joke.

What's going on? Seriously? Millie-Rose?

It was glaringly obvious. I just caught my fiancé...the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow...in bed with my stepsister.

And not just any bed. His bed. Our future bed.

"Fuck!" Silas cursed, leaping off her like the bed had caught fire. He fumbled with the blanket, trying and failing miserably to cover his shame.

Meanwhile, Martha lay there unbothered. Completely naked. Her flushed skin was still humming from their session. Disheveled hair. Wrinkled sheets. The smugness on her face made me want to scream.

I stood there frozen, trying to blink the betrayal away. My heart felt like it had been yanked out, shredded, and shoved back in with broken glass.

My boyfriend and my stepsister.

A plot twist so cruel, even the movies I'd starred in wouldn't dare write it.

"Don't you know how to fucking knock?!" Silas snapped.

My stomach turned. Was that really his reaction?

Not "I'm sorry." Not "This isn't what it looks like." But me being the problem?

I stared at him, jaw slack, the words trapped in my throat. My lips parted, then closed. Then parted again. I looked like a goldfish choking on air.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

The tears came first. Slow. Hot. Silent. Then the short gasps followed-like my lungs had forgotten how to function. My fingers clutched my chest, trying to calm the panic building there.

"Is... is that all you've got to say to me?" My voice barely made it out. It cracked. Pathetic. Weak.

Martha laughed lightly. Then lit a cigarette.

Was I invisible to her? Just another audience member to her twisted theater?

"What do you want me to say?" Silas shrugged, running a hand through his hair, still catching his breath like I wasn't standing there shattering. "You caught me. That should be enough reason to call off the wedding."

"Wh...what?" My voice cracked again. "What are you talking about?"

Nothing made sense. Not the man in front of me. Not this betrayal. Silas wasn't like this. He was patient. Gentle. He respected my boundaries.

He was the one who suggested waiting until our wedding night after I told him my mom's wish. Who was this cold stranger?

"Would you still wanna marry me after this?" he asked, coldly. "I mean, come on. You're not that stupid, are you?"

My breath hitched.

The conversation from the agency came flooding back.

He doesn't love her... He's only marrying her for the inheritance...

And now, it seemed like he didn't want to marry me at all.

Martha passed him the cigarette. He took a puff like it was routine. My eyes widened.

Silas never drank. Never smoked. Or so he claimed.

Who the hell had I been dating?

"Why do you look so shocked, sister?" Martha asked, slinking closer to him, running her fingers down his chest. "You thought you bagged yourself a decent man, huh?"

I thought I had.

But all I could do now was stand there, crying, trembling, and trying not to pass out.

Martha smiled, her tone turning wicked. "Right now, I bet you feel betrayed. That's good," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Because that's exactly how he felt when he found out you're pregnant... for another man."

Time. Stopped.

Her words echoed louder than my heartbeat.

Pregnant?

I stood frozen. Numb. Barely blinking. Then the air caught in my throat and I gasped like I'd been punched in the chest.

-Breathe, Millierose.-

Then, I laughed.

I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. It came out sharp and disjointed. Not funny, but hysterical.

"You're insane, Martha." I wiped the tears from my eyes. "That's the best joke I've heard all year."

I expected her to roll her eyes. But instead, her smile stretched wider.

"Laugh all you want," she said. "Doesn't change the fact that you're a cheating little whore."

My jaw dropped.

"What are you even saying?! I've never slept with anyone! I'm a damned virgin, you twisted-"

"Sure, keep saying that," she interrupted, flicking ash onto the floor. "But that won't change the test results."

My eyes darted to Silas. He still said nothing. No defense. No denial. Just sitting there like all this made sense.

"You know I'm a virgin," I turned to him. "You know that, Silas. Why aren't you saying anything?"

He shrugged again. "You sure about that?"

I nearly screamed.

Was he really asking me that?

Was this a nightmare? Had I passed out and my brain decided to torture me?

"You should be thankful you're my sister," Martha said smugly. "That's the only reason I haven't told the world. But push me, and your career will be finished before you can say cover girl."

That did it.

Messing with my heart? One thing. Messing with my future? My career? Hell no.

"Let's take a test then," I challenged, voice steady despite the tremble in my hands. "If I'm pregnant, I want to see it for myself."

"Great," she said, smug as ever. "Let's go to Dr. Saint right now."

****

"Congratulations, Ms. Millie-rose Harvey," Dr. Saint said softly, avoiding my eyes. "You're seven weeks pregnant."

Did he just say, "congratulations?" What was he congratulating me for?

The room spun. I didn't breathe. I couldn't.

Laughter spilled from Martha. Loud. Victorious. Ugly.

I gripped my dress, knuckles turning white, as I tried to stay upright. My throat burned with the scream I was holding back.

"H-how...? I've never had..." My voice broke.

My world was crumbling and I didn't have a single tool to stop it.

"I guess you're Virgin Mary now," Martha said. "Except, you know... cheaper." She scoffed, "Virgin Millie."

Dr. Saint tried to soften the blow. "It's possible you were drugged, Millierose. Maybe you don't remember..."

"Or she's just a sneaky bitch trying to trap me," Silas spat.

That was it.

"No. This is wrong," I gasped. "There has to be a mistake. This isn't possible."

"I assure you, the results are accurate," Dr. Saint said gently.

I wasn't listening anymore.

I snatched my bag. "I'll get tested somewhere else. A real hospital."

Doctor Saint's jaw twitched.

Good.

I turned to leave, heart pounding and vision blurry...only to stop dead in my tracks when the door opened.

First, a nurse walked in.

And then him.

Tall. Intimidating. Broad shoulders draped in a brown fur coat that kissed his sculpted physique just right. Veins crawling up his hands like a living sculpture. Perfectly chiseled face framed by long black curls slicked back. Cold grey eyes. Trimmed beard. Towering presence.

He didn't speak, but the room shifted around him like gravity bowed in his favor.

My lungs forgot how to function.

Then-he looked at me. A full-body sweep of disgust and scrutiny. His upper lip twitched in a snort.

"Please tell me she's not the one carrying my child."

MILLI-ROSE'S POV

"What?" I blinked in confusion, my voice shaky. I was utterly lost by his words and low-key terrified by the fury laced in them.

"It's not her, is it? It better not be," he repeated, his deep growl slicing through the room. His eyes were glowing...yes, actually glowing and the intensity in them chilled my blood.

Involuntarily, I took several steps back, away from the storm brewing in his body.

Who the hell is this man?

Why does he look like he just crawled out of some supernatural mafia fantasy?

Whatever or whoever-he was, I didn't want to know. I couldn't afford to be curious, not even a little. Men like him were to be admired from afar. Not touched. Not approached. Definitely not... involved with.

Those beastly eyes? They'd burn every ounce of peace out of your life. Unapologetically.

Besides, I had enough problems right now.

"Please, excuse me," I said stiffly, trying to slip past him. More like run past him.

But a strong, calloused hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back like I was weightless.

"Is she the one? Yes or no? Dammit!" he snapped again.

My body jolted from the sheer force of his voice. His eyes bore into me, and the heat of his touch on my arm felt like it would leave a permanent brand.

"Ye..." the nurse stuttered behind him.

My eyes widened. My stomach dropped.

"Yes, she is."

"No, I'm not!" I blurted out, yanking my arm back, breath trembling. "You've got the wrong person, I swear. Please, let me go."

I sounded pathetic, practically pleading now. But I couldn't help it...he had the kind of energy that made you feel like the air around you didn't belong to you anymore.

Dr. Saint finally stepped in, his tone shaky but firm. "Sir, what is the meaning of this? Let go of her arm, you're hurting her."

The man didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't even acknowledge him.

Of course he wouldn't. Men like him don't ask. They take.

"She's the one, sir," the nurse confirmed again. Her voice was timid and apologetic, but her words struck like lightning.

The one what?

The one who... what? stole a car? Crashed a plane?

Carries... a child?

My heart thudded painfully.

No. No. No.

This had to be a mistake.

My terrified gaze darted to Dr. Saint, but the look on his face told me he had no control over this either. His expression practically begged for my forgiveness.

"Oh, you sly bitch. So this is him?" Silas's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and bitter. "This grumpy bastard is the one? You sure have a weird taste, Millie."

My jaw dropped.

Their voices rang in my ears like cruel music, spinning a tune I didn't understand and didn't want to be a part of.

He's not the guy. He's not any guy. I don't even KNOW him!

I'm not pregnant!

I didn't cheat!

I don't even want to be HERE!

The answers screamed inside me, but when I opened my mouth, they came out as pathetic whimpers.

"No... no, I'm not carrying his child or anyone's," I said, tears spilling freely now. "This is a misunderstanding. Please... keep looking. I'm sure you'll find the girl you're looking for, but it's not me. I swear...I don't even know you..."

My voice cracked on the last part. His jaw tensed.

Then he turned to the nurse, eyes sharp. "She doesn't know? What do you mean she doesn't know? Wasn't this supposed to be an agreement?"

The nurse visibly trembled. But before she could utter a single word, Silas chimed in again, with that venomous smile.

"So let me get this straight... you knocked her up and now you're playing daddy? Hah! Must be nice. Little slut gets a happily ever after with the Beast of Chicago."

The man didn't respond. He didn't need to.

He just glared at Silas and the tension in the room thickened like a storm cloud.

"I'm calling your father," Silas snarled, whipping out his phone. "He deserves to know his sweet, virgin daughter has been playing house with some oversized mutt."

"No!" I cried, lunging forward. I grabbed Silas's shirt, tears blurring my vision. "Please. Don't call him. Let me figure this out. Just... give me a chance. Please..."

"Get off me, you lying slut!" he roared.

His hand rose. I saw it coming, saw it aim for my face.

But I never felt the hit.

Because that stranger, the terrifying man who had gripped my arm like steel was suddenly in front of me, hand clamped around Silas's wrist.

"If you ever think about hitting her again," he growled low, his voice a lethal promise, "I'll tear your hands from their joints. Crush them. Feed them to my dogs. Do you understand me?"

Silas went pale. Like, corpse pale.

Dr. Saint's mouth hung open. The nurse looked ready to faint. Even Martha had stopped breathing.

All of this... over one man.

I needed to run.

I picked up my bag I just noticed had fallen off my grip and bolted, feet moving faster than my thoughts. I hailed a taxi with no destination, only desperation.

My phone buzzed nonstop, Callie calling, texting, reminding me about the photoshoot. But I was in no state to pose. I turned it off.

I cried silently the whole ride, replaying everything in my head.

The cheating. The lies. The terrifying stranger. The child inside me that I never asked for.

But it wouldn't be inside me for long.

I never consented to it. I didn't ask for this. So I'm getting rid of it.

I found myself at a nightclub. Why there? I didn't know. Maybe because I wanted to drown it all out.

I sat at the bar, head spinning. The bartender recognized me, but thankfully, he didn't fanboy. Just gave a respectful nod.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Something strong. Really strong," I said, voice brittle but determined.

He studied me, then nodded. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of thick, dual-colored liquor.

I didn't ask what it was. I didn't care. I just needed it. Now.

But just as I brought the glass to my lips-it vanished.

I gasped.

The strange man was here again.

He downed the drink in one go, slammed the empty glass onto the counter, and glared at me like I'd just committed murder.

"What were you trying to do?" he growled.

I couldn't answer. My lips quivered. Fear warred with... something else. A strange fluttering. His scent... it was addictive. Dark. Expensive. Wild.

"You're trying to kill my baby, huh?" he hissed, leaning closer. "Good thing it's not some flimsy fetus. Booze won't do it. You'd need something stronger. Something life-threatening."

"Who... who are you?" I whispered. "What do you want from me? How did I... how did this even happen? We've never-"

"Alpha Braham," he said sharply.

My brain short-circuited.

Alpha?

Oh God, no.

Werewolves. He was a werewolf?

I didn't believe in their existence even though everyone else in the world said they were around us and lived amongst us.

It made sense now. The eyes. The strength. The aura.

They owned most of Chicago and New Orleans. Most people believed that. They mingled among us-but I had never believed or agreed with them. I was human. I liked being human and I didn't want anything with wolves.

Now I was apparently carrying one.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't even want to breathe.

Maybe if I just stopped...

"Breathe. Now," he snapped, gripping my hand.

Air rushed into my lungs like a dam breaking.

"Let me go..." I whimpered.

"Listen," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't want this either. I needed a werewolf surrogate. Not some weak human. This disgusts me just as much as it disgusts you. But the child is alive. There's nothing we can do now. So don't even think about hurting it. You give birth, I pay you, and we never see each other again."

Terror gripped me.

But under the fear... that fluttering was still there. Warm. Pulling.

His scent. His presence. It was toxic and addictive.

"This isn't right," I whispered, tears spilling again. "I don't want this. I never... I haven't even had sex. And now I'm pregnant? I feel... cheated."

For the first time, he looked truly surprised.

His mouth twitched into something like a smile...if you squinted hard enough.

He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek, eyes gleaming with something new. Something dark. Wicked.

"Are you indirectly asking me to be your first?" he murmured. "Because if so... I don't mind. I'd gladly take you up on the offer. Would you?"