His Heirs and the Werewolf Queen

Chapter 11: First Family Breakfast

7:00 AM. The first morning in the house Adrian built four years ago.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through curtains I didn't pick. To the smell of coffee I didn't brew. To the sound of little feet running down a hallway that was supposed to be mine and his.

My room was across the hall from his. "Rule #2: Separate beds". I had repeated it to myself three times before falling asleep.

I pulled on black sweats and an oversized CEO hoodie. No makeup. No heels. No armor. Just Cloe. The woman I used to be before he broke me.

The house was quiet when I stepped into the hallway. Too quiet. Then I heard Laughter From downstairs.

My heart clenched.

The kitchen was bathed in morning light. And there he was.

Adrian Blackwood. Shirtless. Black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Cooking pancakes like he owned the place. Because he did.

He turned when he heard me. His eyes dragged over me, from messy bun to bare feet. Something flickered in his gaze. Regret? Want? I couldn't tell.

"Morning," he said. His voice was rough, like he hadn't used it yet.

"Morning," I replied. I kept my tone flat. CEO mode.

Adrien came barreling in and jumped onto a stool. "Daddy, can you flip the pancake higher?"

Daddy.

The word hit me like a punch.

Adrian didn't miss a beat. He tossed a pancake in the air and caught it on the pan. "Like that?"

"Yeah!" Adrien cheered.

Adrienne padded in next, rubbing her eyes. She climbed straight into the chair beside me. "Mommy, sit by Daddy."

"I was going to sit-"

"No," she pouted, crossing her little arms. "By Daddy. Families sit together."

Families.

I sat. Right between Adrian and the twins. Four plates. Four chairs. A perfect square. A perfect lie.

The smell of maple syrup and coffee filled the air. It was domestic. It was dangerous. It was everything I had dreamed of at 19 and everything I swore I'd never want again.

Adrian slid a plate in front of me. Pancakes, cut into little bear shapes. For me.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"You're welcome," he said quietly.

His fingers brushed mine when he pulled his hand back.

Both of us froze.

Rule #1. No touching.

"Sorry," he muttered, yanking his hand away like he'd been burned.

"It's fine," I lied. My skin was still tingling.

Adrien looked between us with those sharp, Adrian-like eyes. "Are you guys fighting?"

"No, baby," Adrian said quickly. Too quickly. "We're not fighting."

"Then why is Mommy mad?" Adrienne asked, tilting her head.

"I'm not mad, sweetheart," I said, forcing a smile. "Mommy and Daddy are just... practicing."

"Practicing what?" Adrien asked, mouth full of pancake.

Adrian looked at me over the rim of his coffee mug. His green eyes were dark. Intense. Honest.

"Being a family," he said.

The word hung in the air.

Being. A. Family.

For four years I had been the only parent. I had done birthdays alone. First steps alone. Fevers at 3AM alone. Now he wanted to waltz in and play house for one year?

But then Adrienne reached across the table and took my hand. And Adrien reached for Adrian's.

"Like this," Adrienne said. "This is what families do."

And just like that, my resolve cracked.

After breakfast, Adrian insisted on driving us to the twins' school. "It's on the way to the office," he said. Another lie. Blackwood Corp was 40 minutes in the opposite direction.

In the car, the kids chattered in the backseat. Adrian drove with one hand on the wheel. The other rested on the center console. Close to mine. Not touching. But close.

"You didn't have to do all this," I said quietly.

"Do what?"

"The pancakes. The driving. The... act."

"It's not an act, Cloe."

I looked out the window. "It has to be. One year. That's the contract."

"One year," he agreed. But his jaw tightened.

When we pulled up to the school, parents were everywhere. Moms in yoga pants. Dads in suits. And there we were. A CEO Alpha, with two mini versions of themselves.

A teacher walked over, smiling. "You must be the Grandes. We've been expecting you."

She looked at Adrian. Then at me. Then at the kids.

"Which one of you is the dad?" she asked brightly.

The air went still.

Adrian answered before I could. "I am."

"And you're the mom?" She turned to me.

"Yes," I said. The word felt foreign and right at the same time.

As we walked away, Adrian leaned down. His breath was warm against my ear.

"Rule #3," he whispered. "No mate bond."

"I know," I whispered back.

"Then why does it feel like we already have one?"

I didn't answer. Because I didn't know.