The Billionaire alpha's secret

Chapter 4

Selena’s POV

Seven years.

Seven whole years since I left Greece.

I left the Pack lands pregnant and heartbroken, carrying nothing but a small suitcase and a secret growing inside me.

And now…

Here I was again.

Standing at the private arrival terminal in Athens International Airport, holding the hand of the little boy who had become my entire world.

“Selena!”

I turned just in time to see Nikos — my father’s loyal Beta and right-hand man — walking toward me through the crowd, smiling.

He looked almost the same. Tall. Sharp. Always in dark tailored suits. If not for the faint silver near his temples and the lines beside his eyes, I could have believed time never touched him.

“Nikos,” I smiled, letting go of my son’s hand to hug him. “You didn’t have to come personally.”

He stepped back and gave me a look. “Are you kidding? Your father would have skinned me alive if I didn’t come myself. He’s been checking his phone every five minutes since your plane left Auckland.”

I laughed softly. “That sounds like him.”

As Nikos loaded our bags into the black Alpha convoy vehicle, my son climbed in by himself, calm and composed.

I followed, buckling him in before sitting beside him.

“He’s been counting the hours,” Nikos said as we pulled away from the airport. “Your father hasn’t stopped talking about seeing his grandson again.”

I looked at my son, who was watching the city with curious blue eyes.

“He flew all the way to Auckland when he was born,” I said quietly. “Came to the Southern Crescent Pack territory the moment I told him. But he couldn’t stay long. The Alpha Council needed him.”

Nikos nodded. “Your father may be a High Alpha, but those trips were sacred to him. Even if it was once or twice a year, he never missed them.”

“I know,” I murmured, staring out the window at the familiar hills of Attica. “He tried. He really did.”

There were moments, especially when my son was first born, when I missed my mother so badly it felt like my chest was collapsing.

When I was six, my father told me she had left the pack because she wasn’t happy with the life of a Luna.

But even as a child, I never understood how a mother could abandon her own daughter.

One day she was brushing my hair, humming old wolf lullabies.

The next…

She was gone.

No goodbye.

No explanation.

I used to ask myself if it was my fault.

Was I too loud? Too difficult? Too much?

I thought if I behaved better, if I smiled more, maybe she would come back.

She never did.

And the only person who stayed was my father.

So I stopped crying in front of him.

He was trying so hard to fill the space she left behind. Training the pack by day, raising me by night. I didn’t want him to feel like he wasn’t enough.

But when I gave birth to my son in Auckland…

When I sat alone in that hospital room with no mate beside me, no Luna to guide me…

That was when I understood true loneliness.

Postpartum hit me hard.

When he cried, I cried.

When he slept, I stared at him, terrified something would happen if I closed my eyes.

I felt like I was drowning.

The pack healer there — Dr. Thalia — saved me. She was more than an OB-GYN. She became my therapist, my anchor. Without her, I don’t know if I would have survived those first months.

But I did.

And eventually…

I did more than survive.

I healed.

After settling into the Southern Crescent Pack in Auckland, I finally told my father everything.

The truth about the marriage.

The humiliation.

The punishment.

The divorce.

Everything Leonidas had done.

My father had to leave the room halfway through.

For a moment, I truly believed he would fly back to Greece and challenge Leonidas to a blood duel.

But somehow, he kept his promise to me.

He stayed out of it.

He offered to buy me land. Build me a new estate. Restore my Luna title elsewhere.

I refused.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to build something on my own.

All my life I had been protected — first as a High Alpha’s daughter, then as an Alpha’s wife.

But now I was a mother.

And I wanted my son to respect me.

Not fear my last name.

That’s how I started working with a pack foundation for orphaned and disabled wolf children.

At first it was just a distraction.

Then it became healing.

Fighting for those children. Loving them. Helping them control their first shifts.

It brought me back to life.

And it gave my son a world filled with warmth instead of politics.

He grew up kind. Observant. Social.

And far too intelligent for his age.

“Uncle Nikos,” my son suddenly said from the back seat, eyes still on the road ahead. “Based on our speed and traffic flow, we should arrive at Grandfather’s estate in approximately thirteen minutes. We are currently eleven-point-eight miles away.”

Nikos blinked, then laughed. “By the Moon Goddess… you’re right.”

My son shrugged. “I like to keep my mind active.”

Nikos grinned. “And what does a genius want as a reward?”

My son gave him a serious look.

“If you reward me for everything, I’ll grow lazy and spoiled. Rewards should have meaning.”

I burst into laughter.

“Oh, my little Alpha,” I said, brushing my fingers through his soft blonde hair.

“I only allow that because I love you, Mother,” he replied with dramatic patience. “Do not abuse the privilege.”

He was six.

Six.

But he spoke like a council elder.

With his pale blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, he was mine.

But his face…

His face belonged to Leonidas.

The sharp jawline.

The defined cheekbones.

The intense gaze when he concentrated.

Sometimes it hurt to look at him.

To see the man I once loved reflected back at me.

But the pain never outweighed the love.

He was mine.

My son.

My heart.

We built a life in Auckland.

My work with the wolf foundation gained attention across pack territories. My name was mentioned at charity gatherings and inter-pack assemblies.

I never chased recognition.

It simply followed the work.

So when I received an invitation to a grand charity ball in Athens, hosted by the Alpha Council…

I wasn’t shocked.

That was why we came back.

Only for a few days.

A week at most.

Then we would return to our peaceful life in Auckland.

Of course…

My father had other plans.

He had been trying to convince me to return to Greece permanently for years.

But I always refused.

I had no intention of ever crossing paths with Leonidas again.

Not now.

Not ever.

Still…

Part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that coming back to Greece might awaken something I had buried very carefully.

Even now, I was certain Leonidas still believed I was the villain in his tragic love story.

The jealous Alpha’s daughter.

The heartless heiress who killed his future Luna out of envy and escaped justice because of her father’s rank on the Alpha Council.

But none of that mattered anymore.

I didn’t owe him my truth.

I didn’t owe him an explanation.

I didn’t owe him anything.

And if, by some twist of fate, our paths crossed…

I would walk past him without flinching.

My life no longer revolved around him.

I cared about my son.

My work.

My pack.

Nothing else.

As if sensing the shift in my thoughts, Nikos cleared his throat from the driver’s seat.

“The event begins tomorrow night,” he said. “It’s a formal black-tie charity gathering hosted by the Lykaion Foundation. Very exclusive. High-ranking Alphas will be there. Members of the Council. Wealthy donors from Thessaloniki, Crete, even Rhodes.”

“Sounds intense,” I muttered, staring at the hills rolling past us.

“You’ll be honored,” Nikos continued. “You’ll give a short speech. Receive recognition for your humanitarian work among orphaned wolf children. And if all goes well, you’ll secure funding to open three new support centers — one in Wellington territory, one in Christchurch, and possibly one here in northern Greece.”

I nodded slowly.

I wasn’t nervous.

I was proud of what I had built.

But this was a different level of exposure.

In Greece, everything turned into politics.

I looked at my son.

“What about you, agapi mou? Do you want to come to the gala, or stay at the estate with a caretaker?”

He raised one eyebrow — a habit he absolutely inherited from his father.

“I’m coming,” he said confidently. “I prepared a poem. If they give me a microphone, I intend to use it.”

I smirked. “Oh really?”

“I’m going to make you proud, Mother. They will remember my name.”

I didn’t doubt that for a second.

My son was extraordinary.

Every pack tutor, every specialist, every healer we consulted had said the same thing — his mind operated far beyond his age.

At six, he was solving advanced mathematics meant for older pack scholars. He read ancient Greek philosophy for fun. Not because anyone forced him.

Because he wanted to understand the world.

Sometimes he asked questions that felt too deep for a child.

About fate.

About leadership.

About power.

I used to hesitate calling him a genius.

I stopped hesitating years ago.

Still, I tried to give him a normal childhood.

I didn’t want intelligence to be the only thing that defined him.

He was kind.

Compassionate.

Quietly strong.

He had Leonidas’s face.

But none of Leonidas’s cruelty.

And for that, I thanked the Moon Goddess every night.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.

“You already make me proud every single day.”

He smiled at me — that soft, charming smile that melted my heart instantly.

And I meant what I said.

I wasn’t just proud of him.

I was proud of us.

We survived.

There were nights, years ago, when I thought I wou

ld never recover from what Leonidas did to me. When I believed I would never feel whole again.

But motherhood didn’t break me.

It rebuilt me.

Stronger.

Sharper.

More aware.

And I knew I had done something right, because my son loved life.

He was emotionally steady. Secure. Happy.

All the things I never was as a child.

But now…

I was in a better place.

As the car approached the massive iron gates of my father’s estate in Attica, I felt something settle inside me.