Carrying the Alpha’s Pup, Cast Aside

Aria’s POV

Ronan never once acknowledged my existence in front of others.

For three full years, I was his mate in private and no one in public. To the pack—and the business world tied to it—he remained unattached: polished, confident, the kind of Alpha everyone assumed was still waiting for “the right she-wolf.” I was never that she-wolf in their eyes.

I never pressed him for an explanation.

Not once.

Back then, I told myself that being by his side was already more than enough. I was happy simply belonging to him, even if only behind closed doors.

I’d loved him long before that—back when we were still students. I could trace it to a single moment: the day a jealous bully hurled a kettle of boiling water at me, and Ronan lunged forward without hesitation, taking the splash meant for my face. I still remembered the scent of scorched fabric and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Ten years had passed since then.

And somehow, my feelings hadn’t dulled. Not even a little.

Three years ago, after Ronan and Delilah severed their bond, he drank himself into oblivion. The Alpha who never showed weakness staggered through a bar thick with smoke and noise, drowning himself in liquor and regret. I followed him there, choking on the scent of alcohol and cigarettes, and stayed with him when everyone else left.

In the blur of that night, with his eyes unfocused and his words slurred, he asked me if I wanted to try being together.

I knew what it was.

A rebound.

A way to spite the she-wolf who walked away from him.

I knew he didn’t love me.

And still… I agreed.

I told myself a lie that felt comforting at the time: If I love him enough, if I stay gentle and patient, one day he’ll look at me the way I look at him.

Now, thinking back, I almost wanted to laugh at how foolish I’d been.

That night, I sat alone at home, watching the hours crawl by. Midnight passed. Then another. The house remained silent.

Only after the moon dipped lower did my phone finally buzz.

Love, I’ve got a dinner engagement tonight. I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up—get some sleep.

But I had already seen the truth.

Delilah’s social feed glowed on my screen—an image of her laughing brightly as a man carried her on his back. His broad shoulders were unmistakable, even blurred.

Her caption pierced straight through me:

Still the most perfect future mate. I can’t stop crying… should I accept his proposal?

Dinner engagement?

I nearly crushed the phone in my hand.

So he had proposed to her. Not with vague promises or half-spoken plans, but with something real—something meant to last. The kind of vow a wolf makes only when he’s chosen his Luna.

I stared at that photo until my vision blurred. It felt painfully familiar, like being seventeen again—standing on the sidelines while their love unfolded in front of everyone else.

A sudden cramp twisted low in my abdomen. Instinctively, I shut the phone off and pressed a hand to my stomach.

I’m leaving anyway, I thought dully. Why torture myself?

I rose and began to pack.

The matching toothbrushes went into the trash. The mugs I’d chosen for us. The throw pillows that once made our home feel warm and shared—every trace of “us” disappeared into black bags.

Just as I tied one shut, the front door opened.

Ronan stepped inside.

He glanced at the mess, then at me. “Didn’t you like those things?” he asked casually. “Why throw them away?”

I kept my gaze lowered, my fingers numb, my tone deliberately light.

“They’re worn out. I got sick of them.”

A part of me waited—hoped—he’d notice something was wrong. That he’d ask again.

He didn’t.

Instead, he crossed the room like nothing was out of place, rested his palm over my belly, and spoke softly to the pup inside. “Behave today, hm? Your father’s back.”

He looked every bit the devoted Alpha and future sire. Once upon a time, that sight would’ve shattered me.

I used to think that if he cared so deeply for our child, then surely—somewhere—he cared for me too. Maybe he just didn’t know how to say it.

Now I understood.

He loved the pup.

Not me.

“Still upset about earlier?” he asked gently. “You shouldn’t be. I didn’t tell you about Milly joining the company because it didn’t matter. She’s between jobs—I’m just lending a hand. It’s temporary. She’ll be gone soon.”

He paused, noticing I hadn’t reached for his coat like I usually did. That was when he realized I was angry.

His voice softened, coaxing. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? There’s no reason to be. She’s my past. I don’t feel anything for her anymore. You’re the one I’m with now.”

I almost laughed.

Instead, I stood frozen as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek—far more tender than usual.

If I hadn’t seen you with her, I thought bitterly. If I hadn’t heard what you said… I might have believed you.

But now, every gentle word, every affectionate touch, felt rehearsed.

Not love.

Just control.