My Alpha Bought Me to Bear His Heir

The Summit venue was everything I'd imagined wealth and power would look like—marble floors so polished I could see my reflection, crystal chandeliers that threw rainbows across the walls, and Alphas everywhere. Their auras pressed against my skin like invisible hands, each one trying to dominate the space, to prove they were the strongest in the room.

I kept my head down and my scent-masking cloak pulled tight. Marcus had positioned me near the service entrance with the other attendants, mostly Omegas from various packs who'd been brought along to serve. We didn't speak to each other. We didn't need to. We all knew our place.

"Champagne," a server hissed at me, shoving a tray into my hands.

I took it and moved through the crowd like a ghost. Invisible. That's what I'd learned to be. The conversations around me blurred into background noise—territory disputes, trade agreements, challenges to authority. Then I heard Wylder's name.

"Montgomery's position is weakening." The voice belonged to a broad-shouldered Alpha with a scar across his jaw. "Three years and still no marked mate. No heir. The Obsidian Pack will fracture without a successor."

"He should've chosen a proper Luna," another Alpha agreed. "Not whatever arrangement he's hiding."

I moved past them quickly, my cheeks burning. They were talking about me. About my failure to give Wylder what he needed.

I glanced across the room and found him standing near the main podium, his posture rigid, his expression carved from stone. But his eyes—they were scanning the crowd. Searching. When they landed on me, something in his jaw tightened. He looked away first.

I refilled glasses on autopilot, my mind elsewhere. Two more days of this. Two more days of pretending I didn't hear the whispers, didn't feel the weight of my own inadequacy pressing down on my shoulders.

Then the breeze came.

It swept through the open balcony doors, carrying with it the scent of the night—and something else. Something that made my entire body go still.

Cedar and pine.

The tray slipped from my hands. Crystal shattered against marble, champagne spreading across the floor in a golden pool. Heads turned. Someone cursed. But I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but follow that scent.

It can't be.

My feet carried me toward the VIP balcony, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurt. The scent grew stronger with every step, wrapping around me like a memory I'd buried three years ago. I pushed through a velvet curtain, my hands shaking.

And there he was.

Christian Morris. Alive. Healthy. Laughing.

He stood with his arm around a woman—tall, elegant, radiating the kind of power that could only belong to an Alpha. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and when she turned her head, I saw it. The mating mark on her neck. Fresh. Possessive.

The spot where Christian had promised to mark me.

My knees threatened to give out. This isn't real. It can't be real.

But it was. He was right there, his fingers trailing down her arm, his lips brushing her temple. The same lips that had whispered promises to me. The same hands that had held mine and sworn we'd have forever.

"You were right, Estelle," Christian said, his voice carrying across the balcony. "Getting rid of the dead weight was the smartest thing I ever did."

The woman—Estelle—laughed, low and satisfied. "I told you a wolfless Omega would only hold you back. You're meant for greater things, darling."

"God, I can't believe I wasted so much time on her." Christian's voice dripped with contempt. "Naomi was so pathetic. Always clinging to me, always needing reassurance. I couldn't stand it."

Each word was a knife between my ribs.

"And your father's plan worked perfectly," Estelle purred. "Faking your death, selling her to Montgomery to clear your debts—brilliant, really. The money from that transaction bought your way into my pack. Into my bed."

Christian grinned. "She probably still thinks I'm some kind of hero. Dying to save her from Rogues." He laughed, sharp and cruel. "As if I'd ever risk my life for someone so weak. She didn't even have a wolf. What kind of mate is that?"

"A burden," Estelle said simply.

"Exactly. A burden I'm glad to be rid of."

The world tilted. My vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in. Three years. Three years of guilt, of believing I owed him everything, of giving my body to another man because I thought I was honoring Christian's sacrifice.

And it was all a lie.

He sold me. He sold me like I was nothing.