Claiming His Heir

Chapter 3:Rejection

Sadie’s POV

The months from September to November passed in a haze, stolen moments, and secrets shared under the cover of night. To the world, I was still Sadie Vance, the botany major with the high GPA. But to the few people in the shadows, I was the girl who had captured the heart of the unattainable bachelor.

Taylor was a passionate lover, possessive to the point that I should have found it intimidating, but found it comforting instead. He disliked me staying late at school, and seemed to know my every move before I even told him. I had written it off as his possessiveness, rivals in business being dangerous, he’d said.

The night things changed, the city was locked down due to the first ice storm to ever occur in our region. I was at his apartment, and the fireplace crackled to life as the cold wind howled outside. The space between us seemed to be thick with electricity, and I’d yet to pinpoint what it was.

Taylor had been restless all night, pacing near the floor-to-ceiling windows. I went to him, placing my hand on his arm, and when I did, he turned to me, his eyes filled with a hungering need.

"Sadie," he murmured, his voice rough. "I need you to know... this isn't a game to me."

"I know," I whispered, trusting him completely.

That night, I gave him everything. I crossed the line I had held for twenty-one years, expecting to wake up in a world where I was finally his, fully and completely.

I woke up just before dawn. The fire had died down to embers, casting the room in a dull, orange gloom. I stretched, feeling a pleasant soreness, and turned to smile at the man I loved.

But the bed beside me was empty.

I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest. "Taylor?"

He was standing across the room, fully dressed in a stark black suit. He was looking at his phone, his thumb tapping the screen with aggressive precision. He didn't look like the lover who had held me hours ago; he looked like a stranger.

"Taylor?" I tried again, my voice smaller.

He tucked the phone into his pocket and turned to face me. His face was impassive. "Get dressed, Sadie. The roads are clear. My driver is waiting downstairs to take you home."

His cold tone felt like a bucket of ice water poured down my back. "What? Why are you being this way? Did I... did I do something wrong?"

He laughed, a short, sharp sound devoid of humor. He walked to the window, refusing to look at me. "You were perfect. That’s the problem."

I didn’t get it. "I don’t get it."

He turned to face me, his expression cold. "Last night was inevitable. I have wanted you since the moment I saw you. But it cannot happen again."

"Because of your family?" I asked, scrambling out of bed, dragging the sheet with me to cover my nakedness. "I know your father is strict about the family business, but we can work something out."

"It’s not about the business, Sadie," he snapped, his expression cold. "It’s about duty. Legacy."

He stepped forward toward me, his face melting into an expression that looked like... well, it looked like pity. "My life isn’t my own. I’m not just a winery owner. I’m a representative of more than just a winery. And part of that responsibility... is making sure that I have a proper future."

"What kind of future?"

"One that’s official."

He was announcing his engagement that afternoon.

I felt the air leave the room. I felt like I was going to fall over, and so I reached for the bedpost to hold on. "Engagement? You’re getting married?"

He nodded, lying to me again to keep the secrets of the werewolf pack safe and sound. "It’s been arranged for years. To Chloe. She understands the lifestyle. She understands the pressures and the expectations that come with it. She’s strong enough to stand by my side."

"Chloe?" I said, my voice like a squeak. "She’s... she’s a horrible person. You don’t even like her."

"She is what is required," Taylor said, his voice final. "She is a businessman’s daughter. She is... of my kind." He paused and shook his head. "She is who I am meant to be with."

"And I was what?" I asked, my voice shaking with tears and rage. "A distraction? A fling before settling down with the right woman?"

"You were a breath of fresh air," Taylor said softly. "You were normal. But you are weak, Sadie. You are soft. You wouldn’t survive a week in my world." He stepped forward and gestured between us. "This... this was a mistake. I let my guard down. I shouldn’t have touched you."

The rejection was like a physical blow. Not just a rejection; an erasure. I was not good enough for Taylor; not good enough to survive in his world.

"I see," I said, my voice shaking with unshed tears, my back straightening against my will. "If that is how you feel... then perhaps it is for the best that we part ways."

"Sadie–”

"Don't," I hissed, grabbing my clothes from the floor. "Don't say my name like you care. You made your choice."

I got dressed in the bathroom, splashing water on my face to wake myself up. I made my cheeks burn with cold water. I came out, and he was gone. The apartment felt empty, like a tomb.

The ride home was a blur of grey skies and freezing rain. I walked through the front door of my father’s house, and I was still shaking.

My father was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. It was black. He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing at the sight of my disheveled state.

"You didn't come home last night," he said. It wasn't a question.

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze. "I was at the library. The storm... I got stuck."

"Liar," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I called the library, and you weren't there. I called your friends, and you weren't with them."

I stood frozen in the hallway, unsure of what to do. "Dad, I'm twenty-one years old. I don't have to check in with you–"

"I provide a roof over your head," he thundered, standing up from the table. He was a big man, and his shadow engulfed me where I stood. "You don't lie to me. Where were you?"

It was not the time to lash out, but the hurt, the embarrassment, the frustration—it all spilled out.

"I was with someone!" I shouted back at him. "Happy? Is that what you want to hear? I was with a man, okay? A man who was a liar and a cheater. You happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

My father was not moving, was not speaking, but his eyes—his eyes were like a dagger to my heart.

"A man? Who?"

"It doesn't matter!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face once again. "He’s gone. He’s marrying someone else. It’s over."

I expected him to rage, to demand a name, to lecture me on morality. But all I got was for him to slowly sit down again, his face filled with a grim, scary look of disappointment.

"You are foolish," he said. "Just like your mother. She thought she could save everyone too. Look where it got her."

"Don't talk about her," I cried, spinning to run up the stairs.

"And don't think you can bring your messes into this house," I heard him call out as I ran up the stairs. "I won’t clean up your mistakes, Sadie."

I slammed the door to my bedroom shut and fell onto the bed. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I existed for two weeks in a haze of misery.

But it was when I fainted during a lab practical that I knew the truth. The campus doctor was kind as she handed me the printout. "Congratulations, Sadie. You’re about eight weeks along."

Pregnant.

I sat in the bathroom at the clinic, staring at the test in my hand. A baby. Taylor's baby.

I remembered something that popped into my head: She is strong enough to stand beside me. He had said that Chloe was strong when he chose her as his surrogate. He said that I was soft when he rejected me.

But I wasn't soft. I was my father's daughter. I had grown up with his silence, his dominance, his paranoia. I could get through this.

I went home that afternoon with my hand on my stomach. I had to tell my father about my pregnancy. It was the right thing to do. Maybe my father would even understand.

I went into the garage and saw my father sharpening a knife that hunters use to kill animals.

"Dad?"

He didn't look up. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

The knife paused. He turned his head slowly, his eyes dark. "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant," I said again, my voice trembling.

He stood up, knife still in hand. "Who is the father?"

If I tell him it's Taylor Blackwood, I realized with a jolt of understanding, he'll kill him. My dad hated the Blackwoods with a passion I'd never understood. He'd always been muttering about "them" coming in on our land. If he found out the scion of that family had gotten me pregnant...

"I... I don't know. A guy from a bar. A stranger. I don't even know what his last name was."

My dad gazed at me. I knew he saw I was lying about the stranger. But he didn't pry. What I was, was obvious. Shame.

"You stupid girl," he spat at me, his face twisting in disgust. "I raised you to be smart. To be careful. You throw your future away for a tumble in the dark?"

I stood up to him. "I'm keeping it," I said. "I'm not having an abortion."

"You are," he said, taking a step closer to me. "You are going to the clinic tomorrow. You are going to fix this. I am not going to have a bastard child in this house. I am not going to have you ruin your life."

"This is my life," I said, standing up to him. "And this is my child. I am keeping it."

"Well then, you are no daughter of mine," he said, his voice cold and hard. "If you walk out that door with that thing inside you, don't bother coming back."

I looked at him. I really looked at him. I saw the control, the rigidity, the inability to love me for whom I was. I saw the knife on the table, and the locked doors of my childhood.

I was not choosing the baby over him. I was choosing to be free.

"Fine," I said.

I packed a bag in ten minutes. I grabbed my textbooks, my laptop, and the small stash of cash I kept in my sock drawer. I didn't write a note this time.

As I walked out the front door, he didn't follow me. He just stood in the doorway, watching me go with a grim satisfaction, as if he had proven his point.

I got into the first taxi I could find. I told the driver to take me to the bus station. As I pulled away from the curb, I caught a glimpse of myself in the back window. My eyes were red, but they were dry.

I was alone. I was pregnant. I was heartbroken.

But as I put my hand on my stomach, I felt something unexpected: I was not scared.

I was going to protect us both.

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