My Son Told His Father I Was Faking My Miscarriage

"You're using our son's safety as a weapon in a marital spat, Maya."

Jace stood by the kitchen island, adjusting the silver watch on his wrist. He offered no apology for the previous night's argument. Instead, he framed my decision to lock Talia out of the digital medical cabinet as an act of petty jealousy.

I ignored his accusation and turned my attention to our son. "Tell me the three locations for your allergy medication, Owen."

Owen slumped over his bowl of oatmeal, dragging his metal spoon through the thick oats. "The kitchen drawer. My school locker."

Talia sat in my usual chair, sipping dark roast coffee. She offered Owen a warm, reassuring smile. "I'll remember the third one for you, sweetie. You don't have to memorize everything."

"I am not trusting his life to a guest who moved into this house ten days ago," I said, keeping my focus locked on my son. "Where is the third location, Owen?"

Owen slammed his spoon into the ceramic bowl. Milk splashed onto the polished granite counter, dripping onto the hardwood floor. "You just hate her because she's actually fun! She doesn't treat me like a baby!"

"Knowing where your medicine is kept is not treating you like a baby," I replied. "It is keeping you alive."

Jace simply sighed, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms. "Don't try to win arguments in front of the kid, Maya. It's exhausting."

"I am not trying to win an argument," I said. "I am trying to ensure he knows how to survive an allergic reaction."

I did not waste another breath explaining myself. I pulled a black marker from the utility drawer and wrote today's date on the emergency index card taped inside the cabinet door. I slid the card across the island until the sharp edge touched Jace's knuckles.

"From today on, you are responsible for knowing these locations," I told my husband, staring directly into his eyes. "I will not always be the backup system for this family."

Four hours later, the Pack clinic doors slammed open.

Talia lay on the sterile examination bed, a clear oxygen mask strapped over her pale face. The heart monitor beeped in a rapid, frantic rhythm. On the metal tray beside her rested her leather riding bag, unzipped to reveal a bright yellow trainer pen—an empty plastic shell used for practice injections.

The real epinephrine injector was gone.

Clara, our head maid, stepped into the room holding a torn foil wrapper. Her hands shook as she held it out. "Alpha, I found this shoved into the back of the Luna's storage cabinet."

Jace snatched the wrapper from Clara's hands. He crumpled the foil in his fist and dropped it onto the metal tray. He turned to face me, his expression hardening into stone.

"Did you swap it?" Jace asked, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Did you do this to scare her just because she touched Owen's bag yesterday?"

I looked past Jace, searching for our son. Owen stood near the doorway, clutching the plastic game console Talia had bought him. His knuckles were white.

"Tell your father what happened yesterday morning, Owen," I said. "Tell him why I refused to let Talia handle your medical pouch."

Owen stared at his sneakers. He gripped the game console tighter and said absolutely nothing.

Talia reached up and pulled the oxygen mask down to her chin. She coughed weakly, her chest heaving with the effort. "I asked Maya about the medical supplies last night. Maybe someone just grabbed the wrong one in a hurry."

"Pull the Alpha House security footage," I demanded, addressing the clinic staff. "And bring me the inventory logs for every medication dispensed this week."

Jace stepped into my line of sight, blocking my view of the nurses. "A woman is lying in a hospital bed, fighting for breath, and your first thought is clearing your own name?"

"My first thought is finding out how a trainer pen ended up in her bag," I corrected him. "I do not have a key to her personal belongings. And I have no reason to touch them."

"I left it on the living room sofa last night," Talia whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at Jace. "The zipper was open. Anyone could have touched it."

She reached out, resting a pale hand on Jace's forearm. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, shimmering under the harsh fluorescent lights. "Jace, please don't yell at her. Pregnancy hormones make people do things they don't realize. Her body is going through so much right now. Don't be too hard on her."

Owen's head snapped up. He marched over to the metal bed, glaring at me. "Is that why you're mad? Because Dad spends time with Talia and not you?"

"Adult relationships are not for you to judge, Owen," I told him, keeping my voice steady. "And pregnancy is never an excuse to invalidate a person's actions."

Owen scowled, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Stop lecturing me! You always make everything a rule! You just want to control everyone!"

Jace watched the exchange, his jaw tightening. He pointed a firm finger toward the hallway. "Stay away from Talia's room and her medication, Maya. Temporarily."

"You are restricting my access in my own home?" I asked.

"I am keeping the peace," Jace countered. "Until we figure out what happened, just keep your distance."

I stood in the center of my own Pack clinic, labeled a threat in front of my husband, my son, and my staff. The restriction was a clear declaration of his distrust.

I turned to the head nurse standing near the heart monitors. "Seal the intake list, the medication batches, and today's shift logs under my Pack member rights. Send notice to the Council immediately. I am filing a formal written objection to an internal accusation against the Luna."

Jace's eyes widened. He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. "Do not escalate family drama to the Council, Maya. You are overreacting."

"If you treat me as a threat to a Pack member in my own territory, it is no longer a family spat," I replied.

I turned my back on him and walked out of the room. The heavy wooden door swung shut behind me, stopping an inch from the frame.

Talia's voice carried through the gap.

"Your mom needs us to agree with her right now, sweetie, or she'll feel sick again," Talia murmured.

"I know," Owen whispered back. "She says she's tired every time Dad hangs out with you. She just wants attention."

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and pressed the submit button on the Council grievance portal.