The Woman He Mocked Is An Alpha Heiress

HAILEY Losing a baby you never got to hold once is devastating. Losing a second one feels like your own body has betrayed you. The doctor said something about rest. About stress. About how I should not be alone tonight. I nodded like I understood, as if any of it mattered, and then I signed the discharge papers with a steady hand that did not feel like mine. And now, I am standing in front of my house. My home. The place that is supposed to feel safe. Except it doesn’t. I’d notice it immediately, from the cars packed into the driveway and spilling toward the gate, far too many for a quiet night, far too unfamiliar for our garage, and far too many for something that was never mentioned to me. The lights are on in every room, and there is soft music drifting through the walls, accompanied by soft laughter and clinks of glasses. I don't know if I'm supposed to laugh or cry even more. They are celebrating while I mourn. In my home. For a moment, I just stand there, still in my patient’s gown, the thin fabric doing nothing to keep out the night air or the way it settles into my bones. The hospital bracelet is still tight around my wrist. I have not taken it off and I don’t know why. Maybe because it feels like proof that something was here. That something mattered. People say it was never a child, not yet, not really, that it was too early, that it happens, that I should not take it so hard because another will come. They say it like it is something small, something replaceable, like I did not already imagine a future that no longer exists. I convinced myself to almost believe that the first time. But I don't anymore. Because my body knew. It knew the moment something changed the moment the quiet inside me turned into something else, something wrong, something slipping away before I could even hold onto it. And this time… it knew what it was losing. A soft voice pulls me back from my thoughts. “Ma’am…” I turn slightly. It’s Lila, one of the maids who followed me to the hospital, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her expression careful in a way that makes something in my chest tighten. “I… I think we should go in through the backyard,” she says quietly. “A-Alpha Dominic will get angry if you go in dressed this way.” For a moment, I just look at her. At the hesitation on her face. At the warning she is trying not to say out loud. And suddenly, everything makes sense. This is why he didn’t come. Not when I called countless times, even with the fear that I'm blowing up his phone. Not when they wheeled me in. Not when I sat there, waiting, telling myself he would show up. He wasn’t busy. He wasn’t delayed. He just… wasn’t coming because he was here. I let out a slow breath, steady and controlled, the kind I have practiced too many times. “It’s fine,” I say. My voice does not shake. Lila takes a step forward. “Ma’am, maybe we should—” I don’t let her finish as I press my thumb against the scanner beside the door, and the lock clicks open almost instantly. I push the door open. And I step in anyway. All eyes turn to me They are all in my lounge area, some with Champagne glasses, some chatting, all dressed in corporate dinner fits. The music doesn't stop nor does the laughter fully die. But it falters just enough while I stand there in slides, a thin pale blue hospital gown, and anplastic band still around my wrist. A low and uncomfortable murmur spreads just before a familiar displeased and cold voice cuts through it. “What is this?” I don't have to look to know. But I do anyway. And there he is, my husband, standing at the center of his room, dressed perfectly with a glass in hand and his personal assistant, Jade, standing just close enough beside him to make my eyes narrow. I watch as his gaze drags over me slowly, and then, his jaw tightens in irritation. He raises his other hand and the music stops completely. “You couldn’t even change before coming in here?” he says, his voice low but carrying just enough. “Do you have any idea how important tonight is?” For a second, I don’t respond. Not because I don’t have anything to say. But because I am still trying to understand how someone, especially my mate, can look at me like this— And see nothing. My lips part, but before I can say anything, his mother steps forward next, her heels clicking against the tile, anger in her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she mutters. “You choose tonight to make a scene?” I chuckle dryly. “A scene? The word feels strange in my mouth, like something that doesn’t quite belong to me. I tilt my head slightly, my gaze moving past her, past him, taking in the room and the polished guests and the raised glasses and the not so unfamiliar faces watching me like I am something unexpected… and inconvenient. “This is a scene?” I repeat softly. “I didn’t know,” I continue, almost thoughtfully, “that losing a child required a dress code.” A ripple moves through the room and Dominic’s expression hardens like I've said something offensive as he starts storming towards me. “Lower your voice, Hailey.” he says sharply. “This is not the place for your—” “Oh, don’t even bother finishing that.” His mother cuts in before he can, her voice rising, sharp enough to slice through whatever was left of the room’s restraint. “This girl has always been like this,” she continues, stepping forward like she has been waiting for this moment, like this is the performance she came prepared for. “A basket that can’t even hold water.” My throat tightens. A few people shift uncomfortably. But she doesn’t stop. “Three years,” she says, her voice louder now, carrying to every corner of the room. “Three years of this… this ungrateful, useless behavior, and you still don’t know how to act like a proper mate?” I say nothing and I don’t move. “An orphan we took in because of the bond,” she adds with a scoff. “And this is how you repay us? By standing here, bitter, trying to ruin an important night?” Orphan. The word lands, but it doesn’t sting the way she expects it to. Because if she knew— If any of them knew— The irony would choke them. But I don’t say that. I don’t say anything. “This is not how an Alpha’s mate behaves,” she continues, her gaze sweeping over me in open disgust. “Especially not tonight, when Wolfe Clinicals has finally recognized my son’s worth. Do you even understand what that means for him and this pack? They’ve invited him to an official meeting dinner in two weeks where he might even get the chance to meet the hidden Alpha Princess.” A murmur of approval rises mixed with impressed whispers. She lifts her chin slightly, pride settling into her posture. “And what have you done?” she demands, turning back to me. “Tell me. In all these years, what have you contributed to his life and his career?” My fingers curl slightly at my sides. Still, I say nothing. “Look at Jade here,” she goes on, gesturing toward the woman who was standing beside my husband. “Ambitious. Supportive. A woman who actually knows how to stand beside a man and help him grow, not drag him down.” “She’s been there for him,” his mother continues, her voice dripping with approval. “Long before you, and certainly more than you ever have.”