Alpha, She Is Done With You

Chapter 05

Chapter 5

Sora‘s POV

I stand outside that door for ten seconds.

My fingers are on the wood frame. I can hear Yuki still talking inside, her voice quick and certain, the voice she uses when she's explaining something she completely believes.

Three minutes ago those words came out of my daughter's mouth like they'd always lived there. Words about my body. Words about what my body is for. My husband's words, put into my child's mouth, about me.

I take my hand off the door frame one finger at a time.

I go downstairs.

Lyra is already in the study when I arrive. She's taken the chair by the window where the afternoon light falls at its best angle—not by accident. Yuki is on her lap, talking. The whole room has arranged itself around her like she belongs there.

I cross the floor and stop in front of her.

"This is family only." My voice is steady. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She looks up at me with the expression I've known for twenty-three years. Patient. Settled. The composure of someone who already knows she doesn't have to move.

The lawyer speaks before she does. "Ms. Lyra Voss is named as a beneficiary. Her presence is required."

I swallow what just moved through me. I walk around the table and sit beside Ethan.

His hand settles on the back of my hand. Not a grasp—just: placed there. The weight of it is unexpected. Quiet. I don't look at him. I leave my hand where it is.

Yuki climbs down from Lyra's lap without being called and comes to sit beside me. She leans against my arm the way she leans against things—temporary, polite. I put my hand on her shoulder anyway.

The lawyer begins.

Pack assets to the council. Private collections to Ethan. A few pieces of jewelry distributed among elder Lunas. Standard. Expected.

Then the lawyer pauses, turns a page, and reads my name.

I sit up slightly.

Grandmother left me a personal fund. The number is not small. I feel something shift in my chest—something that had been braced against impact and now isn't sure what to do.

She saw me. She was building me a way out.

"This fund," the lawyer continues, "is to be released as Sora Voss-Blackwood's independent personal asset upon the following condition: during the marriage, she must produce a male heir for the Blackwood Pack. Should the marriage terminate, or should the condition remain unmet, the funds will revert to the Pack public trust."

I sit there.

I hear every word.

Produce a son. Then the money is mine.

Leave. Get nothing.

Seven years of Grandmother putting herself between me and the sharpest edges of this family. Seven years of her gripping my wrist and pushing me forward. I let myself believe that was unconditional.

She saw the same thing everyone in this room sees.

I look at the swirl of hair at the crown of Yuki's head. I push the heat back behind my eyes.

The lawyer turns to the next page.

A separate trust for Lyra. No conditions. The amount is larger. The designated purpose: to compensate Ms. Lyra Voss for the personal loss she suffered due to family matters, and to ensure the future security of Ms. Lyra Voss and her children.

Her future children.

No one asks who the father will be. The grammar of the document makes the question irrelevant.

I look at the table.

The lawyer adds a personal note from Grandmother: the compensation is for loss suffered due to family matters. Polite language for what everyone in this room already believes—what this Pack has believed for seven years—what Grandmother has now written into the permanent record.

No witnesses. No evidence. Nothing that I could ever answer without sounding like exactly what they've already decided I am.

The lawyer turns one more page.

"Regarding the Moonridge property—"

My hands go still in my lap.

The lawyer reads the address. Our address. My address.

Seven years ago I found that place on a routine inspection of Pack properties—a derelict cabin with a broken roof and two rotting floorboards and wind coming in through the walls. I spent two years of evenings and weekends on it. I drew the plans myself. I sourced the timber. I measured the kitchen shelving for my own height. I chose every south-facing window so the winter sun would come through at the right angle. Yuki learned to ride her bicycle in that yard. Ethan and I had our last real conversation sitting on that porch three summers ago.

"—to be transferred to Lyra Voss," the lawyer finishes.

Ethan's hand lifts off mine.

"Say that again." His voice is something I haven't heard from him before. Genuinely uncertain. "Which property, to whom?"

The lawyer reads it again. Moonridge. Lyra Voss.

"When was this signed?" Ethan says. "Is this confirmed? Not to Sora—to Lyra?"

The lawyer confirms the date, the signature, the notarization. Everything is in order. No error.

The room is quiet.

Violet's face shows nothing. Lyra keeps her eyes down, that composed, careful stillness she's so good at. I sit with my hands on my knees and my fingers pressing into the fabric of my dress and I don't speak.

The reading ends.

Ethan comes to me as the room begins to empty. He lowers his voice. "That property—" He stops.

I look at him. I wait.

He is silent for a moment. Then: "You look exhausted. Let someone cover your afternoon shift. I'll handle Yuki."

He touches my shoulder briefly and moves away.

I go upstairs. I stand at the window and watch the driveway.

Ethan's car is at the door. He walks out.

Lyra follows him. She doesn't go around to the back seat. She goes directly to the passenger side, opens it, settles in—the easy way a person settles into a seat they know well.

Then Yuki runs out. Lyra opens the car door and leans down and my daughter climbs onto her lap, and the car door closes.

I'm down the stairs and through the front door before I've decided to move.

I yank open the rear door. Ethan turns.

"Where is Lyra taking my daughter?"

"The Moonridge property," he says. "She's never seen it. Yuki offered to show her."

I look at him. "That is the house I built."

"Grandmother left it to Lyra. Lyra hasn't done anything wrong by wanting to see it." His voice is careful. Measured. The verdict voice. "We should respect what she decided."

Yuki is watching me from Lyra's lap. She doesn't say anything.

Ethan takes the rear door from my hand and closes it gently.

The car goes.

I work the afternoon shift. I don't know how I get back to the hospital but I do it. I take blood pressures. I change dressings. I smile at the old woman in the recovery wing who says I look tired and I tell her I'm fine.

Near the end of the shift, Ian appears in the corridor and stops me with a look.

He doesn't ask how I am. He just opens his office door and stands back.

"There's a result from last week's panel I need to discuss in person."

I walk in. He closes the door. He sets a report on the desk and slides it across to face me, and his voice when he speaks is very level, the voice he uses when precision matters more than comfort.

"Sora. You're pregnant."