Alpha Braham’s POV
The moment that woman…Martha…ran upstairs, slamming the door behind her, silence wrapped around the house. Heavy. Tense. Charged.
But Millie didn't look at me.
She stood stiff, one hand gripping her child's…our child's…hand so tightly I could see her knuckles whiten. The boy shifted his weight, glancing between us with those unnervingly perceptive eyes.
I took a step forward. "Millie," I said, voice low, steady, "we need to talk."
Her shoulders lifted, defensive. "Not now. I need to get him settled."
"That can wait."
Her head snapped toward me, and for a split second, I saw it… the flash of the girl who was broken that day at the hospital, who wanted so badly to get rid of the pregnancy and run away from me and everything else.
"No. It can't."
That sting…her shu
