The Fake Heiress Was Kicked Out, Then the Entire Clan Begged Me to Come Home

Diana Sterling's POV: When I came to, I was lying on a thin mattress in the servants' quarters. So this was what coming home looked like now. My hand drifted to my belly without thinking, and the pain forced a sharp breath out of me. 'My baby,' I thought, and a grief beyond words crashed over me. Tears slid down my temples before I could stop them. 'I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't keep you safe,' I thought. Three days ago, the uprising had ripped through our Pack. To save Brock Hayes, I had drawn the raiders away with my swollen belly and thrown myself off the cliff. In my last moments of hope, I had reached for our mind-link only to find he had severed it from his end. Every cry I sent into the dark vanished into nothing. I lay broken on the cliffside, waiting to die. Every bone in my body felt crushed, and blood kept pouring from between my legs. I knew what it meant. My baby was telling me he had to go. I forced him into the world with everything I had left, and he was already gone before I could hold him. I gave myself no time to mourn. I clawed my way back through the woods with one thought driving me forward. Even if death caught up with me, it would catch me at Brock's side. But now Brock's voice was carrying in from the other side of the door, and every word he spoke drove into my chest like a blade. "Spread the word that Diana was defiled out there. The Pack will never accept a Luna who's been tainted. "She loves me too much. She'll never have the heart to make this hard on me." The pain finally forced my head clear. A moment later, Brock pushed the door open and hurried to the bedside with worry written all over his face. He sank down on one knee and pressed kiss after kiss into the back of my hand. "Moon Goddess be praised. You're alive." He pulled me hard against his chest, and his voice shook against my ear. "I'm so sorry. I'm worthless. I couldn't protect you. And now those photos of what they did to you are out there. Go on, hit me. I deserve every bit of it." He grabbed hold of my wrist and used my hand to slap himself hard across the face. A laugh almost escaped me. 'How can a person be this fake?' I thought. I kept my voice casual, like the question had just drifted into my head. "How'd our mind-link end up cut?" Brock's expression froze. He recovered a second later, dropped his eyes, and pivoted the conversation. "Photos of what they did to you are everywhere now. The other Packs are laughing at us for having a Luna who's been tainted. "We were wrecked about it. Thank the Goddess Carly showed up. She's my fated mate, and the whole Pack wants her as my Luna. "Because of her, the Silverthorne Pack, the biggest one up north, is finally willing to come to the table about an alliance. Someone with your status was never going to pull that off. I had no choice but to pick her." He reached out and clasped my hand tight in his. "The future of the Pack is on the line. You get it, right?" Brock had the same earnest look on his face he'd worn the day he knelt in front of my parents to ask for my hand. I clenched my jaw and forced the tears back. I curled my hands into fists and let my nails dig into my palms until they broke the skin. The tears slipped out anyway. After more than twenty years of knowing this man, the person in front of me suddenly felt like a stranger. 'Is this really the Brock I know?' I thought. I tugged my mouth into a bitter little smile and made myself nod along. "Of course I understand." 'I'm not the Chief's real daughter. I'm not his fated mate, and I can't give him a true Alpha heir,' I thought. 'That's why he's tossing me aside. Fine. I don't want him either.' Brock's shoulders dropped and his whole face lit up. He surged forward and crushed me against his chest. "I knew you'd be reasonable about this. Don't you worry. Even if my Luna isn't you anymore, I'll still take care of you. "The Silverthorne Pack is coming for the ceremony, so I've got a mountain of things to handle. I'm gonna go get started. As long as you stay in line, you can keep living here in peace." He pulled back, gave my hand a quick squeeze, and jogged out of the room without once glancing over his shoulder. The second I stepped out of the servants' quarters, the house I'd lived in for over twenty years suddenly felt like it belonged to a stranger. Carly had moved into my bedroom, and the maid's room was the only place left for me. Every corner I'd decorated by hand had been stripped out and redone in the one style I'd always hated, cold Scandinavian minimalism. The wedding photo that used to hang on the wall had been swapped out for a portrait of their happy little family of four. Out in the yard, the lilies Brock had planted for me and the swing he'd built with his own hands were nowhere to be found. I pulled my eyes away and swallowed hard against the bitterness rising in my throat. But the moment I turned my head, I caught sight of Brock holding Carly close just a few yards off. He kept one hand resting at the small of her back, looking down at her the same way he used to look at me when I'd first gotten pregnant. Even though I'd braced myself for this, my lungs seized up and refused to pull in air. I forced myself to keep watching. Carly's brow creased and her hand flew to her mouth. Brock dropped to his knees in front of her and cupped his hands beneath her chin to catch the vomit. Back when I was the one heaving over a toilet, his lip would curl and he'd turn his face away. I'd humored his clean-freak side back then and slipped off to throw up where he couldn't see. Something cold closed around my heart and squeezed until the breath went out of me. 'I'm the outsider in my own home now,' I thought. The two of them started walking toward me. Brock's mouth pulled into a small, apologetic grin and he opened it to say something, but Carly suddenly doubled over with a cry of pain, and every drop of color drained out of his face. He scooped her up in his arms and sprinted for the house, shouting over his shoulder. "Someone get the doctor over here, now!" As he passed me, his shoulder rammed into mine hard enough to knock me sideways.