Without another word, I turned and walked out. My fingers instinctively cupped my stomach, feeling the soft flutter of life beneath my palm.
“It’s alright, little one,” I whispered. “We don’t need that room. I’ll make you a better one. Somewhere safe.”
Behind me, Lucian remained motionless, watching me retreat. That same fleeting guilt I saw at the clinic flickered over his face again—sharp, fleeting, almost human. Then Sabrina called his name from the nursery, and he pivoted toward her without hesitation.
---
Later, when I returned to the master bedroom, my phone buzzed repeatedly. A string of voice messages from Sabrina.
I pressed play.
With each recording, Lucian’s gentle, doting voice washed over me—soft tones, comforting murmurs, the kind he once used with me when he thought he was being a good mate. But hearing them now, layered with Sabrina’s coy responses… the truth slammed hard into me.
Every affectionate gesture Lucian ever gave me had been nothing but training for her.
The soups he served me to “strengthen the pup.”
The gifts he bought for the nursery.
The care instructions he read out loud.
The nights he talked to my belly as though speaking to our future heir.