My Alpha Cheated and Wants Me Dead

[Lana's POV] A full month away on assignment. Thirty days trapped in a remote tribe's makeshift office, cross-checking ledgers, cleaning up old accounts, chasing down every suspicious money trail. The Ward Group's external audit deployment had wrung me dry—I barely had a spare second to even miss home. But the moment the plane touched down, the wolf inside my chest stretched out and let loose a low, satisfied hum. 'Home.' I dragged my suitcase through the complex, fished out my keys, and pushed the door open. The first breath I pulled into my lungs wasn't the familiar scent of home. It was a strange, jarring smell—milky, baby-sour, completely out of place. My feet stopped. My whole body froze for a beat. In the corner of the living room sat a play mat, colors so bright they hurt my eyes, soft bumpers wrapped around all four edges. Next to it, a pile of cloth toys. A stuffed bear. A light-up ball. And just beyond that—two full cases of werewolf-infant formula, the side of each box was printed with a line: "Suitable for pups aged 0–24 months." My cat Shadow leapt off the couch, circled the pile once, and puffed her tail out like a bottlebrush. I left my suitcase by the door. Didn't move. Just stood there staring at all of it for several long seconds. What was my mother-in-law up to now? ***** Margaret came out of the back room with a smile on her face. That smile made something in my chest pull tight for no reason I could name. On a normal day, she'd say as little to me as humanly possible. But today she actually spoke first. "You're back?" "Yeah." I glanced at the pile of stuff, my brow creasing. "Mom, what's all this—" "Sit down first." She cut me off, already turning back toward the hallway. "There's someone I want you to meet." A moment later, she came back out carrying a child. A boy, barely over a year old. Round face, eyes dark and bright, soft hair pressed against his forehead. He looked like he'd just woken up—still carrying that drowsy, milky haze. He leaned against Margaret's shoulder, one small hand clutching her collar, his eyes locked onto me, full of curiosity. "Whose kid is this?" I stepped closer, looked down at him, and my hand reached out on its own, brushing his cheek. Soft as cotton. "A distant relative from the tribe." Margaret shifted the child toward me. "His name's Leo. Two years old." Leo didn't cry. He let me take him without a fuss. He tilted his head, studied me for a second, and then buried his face straight into the crook of my neck. His little fingers found a strand of my hair and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Why bring him here?" I dipped my head, nuzzling his hair. The milky scent curled into my nose. "Where's his mother?" Margaret settled onto the couch, her tone turning serious. "Pups who haven't been called by the moon yet still carry a born-pure energy. The old ones believed that if a she-wolf trying to conceive spends time with a young pup, her body's wild rhythm realigns with the lunar cycle—and when the full moon comes, bonding with her mate becomes easier. The tribe calls it 'moon-breath attunement.'" I looked up at her. She said it with absolute conviction, her eyes steady and sure. I wanted to say it was just superstition. The words made it all the way to my tongue before I swallowed them back down. One month. Thirty days. I'd been too busy out there to dwell on it, but the thing had never stopped pressing against the bottom of my chest—the belly that refused to show any sign of life, and that look in Margaret's eyes every time she glanced my way, disappointment she couldn't quite hide. I looked down at Leo in my arms. He had both hands clamped on my face, pulling my cheeks apart with all his might, giggling so hard his whole body shook. I cracked. Laughed with him. "Fine," I said. "He can stay for now." ***** Connor came home while Leo was sitting on the play mat, gripping the stuffed bear, lifting it high, and hurling it across the room with total concentration. I sat on the carpet beside him. Every time the bear hit the floor, I picked it up and handed it back. He'd take it, and a second later—launched it again. Connor changed his shoes, glanced down at the play mat first, then at Leo. His gaze caught, just for a moment. "Mom told you?" "She told me." I picked up the bear one more time, passed it over. "Moon-breath attunement." Connor didn't touch that. He walked over, dropped onto the couch, pulled out his phone, and started scrolling. That was exactly when Leo looked up. The second he spotted Connor, his eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch. "Daddy!" His little legs kicked hard against the mat, arms stretching wide as he scrambled forward. "Daddy, hold me!" I went completely still. Connor's phone nearly slipped out of his hand. His expression stiffened. He cleared his throat immediately. "He's too young—his memory hasn't even developed properly. He can't tell people apart. Calling any adult male wolf 'Daddy' is just animal instinct—latching onto the nearest source of safety." I stared at him. Leo was still reaching, his milky voice insistent. "Daddy—hold me—" Connor stood up and lifted him. His palm patted the boy's back twice, light and steady. Leo's attention shifted fast. His small hand grabbed Connor's collar and started fiddling with the button. I pulled my gaze away, slowly, and fixed it on the carpet beneath me—those dense, looping patterns—and pressed down the doubt that had just broken the surface, inch by inch, until it was buried again. My wolf murmured low inside me. 'You believe him?' I didn't answer. ***** Deep in the night, Leo cried. The sound ripped out of the crib—shrill, piercing, loud enough to split the room apart. Connor and I took turns. Rocking him, patting his back, shifting positions again and again. Nothing worked. He cried harder. Gasping, face flushed with scarlet, tears streaming from both eyes. "Mommy—" He sobbed between wails. "Mommy, Mommy—" I held him against my chest. Something thick and heavy lodged itself behind my ribs, pressing tighter with every cry. The door slammed open. Margaret stood in the doorway, her nightgown half-fastened, her face dark as stone. Her eyes cut across me—cold, sharp, like a blade dragged straight over my skin. "You can't even soothe a child?" I didn't respond. Kept my head down, kept patting Leo's back. "You don't even have a she-wolf's maternal instinct." She walked over and pulled Leo straight out of my arms. Her voice landed like a slab of rock, hard and freezing. "No wonder you can't conceive." I stood there, rigid. My arms were still shaped around the space where he'd been. A few seconds passed before I let them fall, slowly, to my sides. Margaret carried Leo out. His crying faded—quieter, quieter—until only broken hiccups remained. The room went silent. Just me and Connor. Connor looked at me once. Said nothing. I turned around, lay down, and closed my eyes. ***** The next morning, I stood by the window, coffee in hand, and when I spoke, my voice came out tight. "Send Leo back. He keeps crying because he misses his mother." Connor sat at the dining table, tapping his fingers lightly against the surface. "Why not bring his mother here instead?" I turned to look at him. "So the kid won't cry all night again." His tone was even, matter-of-fact. "She's raising him alone—it's not easy. Let her stay a few days. Once he settles down, she can go." I gripped the mug tighter. Said nothing. The guilt crept back up, slowly, winding around me like a vine. My belly—still nothing. Margaret's look from last night. Leo's voice crying for his mommy. It all piled together, pressing down on my chest so hard I could barely breathe. It was my fault. I was the reason things had gotten this bad. "Okay," I said quietly. Shadow passed by my feet and stopped dead. A low whimper rolled out of her throat, and her tail shot up, fur bristling in every direction. I glanced down at her. Didn't think much of it. That evening, Diana arrived. Connor brought her to me. "A distant relative from the tribe. She's got the kid, nowhere to stay for now." She stood in the doorway—blonde hair, fair skin, pale eyes slightly downcast, wearing that timid, grateful smile. "Hi, Lana. I'm really sorry for the trouble." Her voice was gentle. I gave her a polite reply, stepped aside, and let her in. The second Leo saw her, he scrambled up from the play mat, stubby legs pushing hard against the floor, stumbling forward with his arms out. "Mommy!" Diana dropped to her knees instantly, scooped him up, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. I stood to the side, watching. The feeling in my chest—I couldn't name it. Uncomfortable. Deeply uncomfortable. Like a cold, hard stone had been shoved into my ribcage without warning, so heavy it squeezed the air out of me. Then I smelled it. Just a flash—faint, so faint it nearly drowned beneath the unfamiliar scent clinging to her skin. But buried inside it was a trace of something that shouldn't have been there. Something familiar enough to send a chill crawling straight down my spine. My nostrils flared. I stood perfectly still, turning that thread of scent over and over in my mind. Once. Twice. 'You caught it.' Deep in my chest, my wolf spoke, her voice low and heavy. I didn't answer her. ***** After dinner, Margaret took Leo out for a walk. Diana lingered in the living room for a moment, as if working up the nerve, then turned to Connor. Her voice stayed soft. "Connor, could you walk me around the neighborhood? I have just got to this new territory—my wolf's been restless." Connor stood. Then he looked back at me. "Lana, want to come?" I glanced at the laptop on the table. The Ward Group's quarterly financial report was still open. Deadline tonight. I hadn't touched a single number. "You two go ahead." I pulled my gaze back, kept my tone flat. "I still have work." Connor nodded, grabbed his jacket. Diana was already at the door. It opened. Then it closed. I sat back down in front of the computer, dragged the spreadsheet into view, stared at the first row of figures. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before they finally came down. Outside, the streetlamps flickered one by one. The night wind pushed through the window, lifting the edge of the curtain, swaying it back and forth in a way that scraped at my nerves. I forced my head down and started punching in numbers. ***** Close to nine, the report was finally done. I leaned back against the chair, rubbed my stinging eyes, and walked out of the room—only to find that Margaret had brought Leo back a while ago. But Connor and Diana still weren't home. I picked up my phone and dialed Connor's number. It rang for a long time. A long time. So long I almost believed no one would pick up—and then the line finally connected. On the other end, I heard Diana's laughter.