Our Nursery Belonged to His First Love

"Read the statement, Lena," Carter ordered, adjusting the camera tripod in the center of the locker room. "The elders are watching the live feed. The entire coaching staff is waiting."

I ignored the typed paper resting on the wooden bench. Instead, I pulled a folded receipt from my pocket and flattened it directly over his script.

"Check the timestamp," I told him, tapping the printed ink. "I swiped my card at the pharmacy exactly when your security footage shows someone opening the hotel medicine cabinet. I want the original video file sealed."

Carter did not even glance at the receipt. He stepped into my space, his hand reaching for my neck. He unhooked the laminated team family lanyard from my collar. Next, his fingers brushed my shoulder, unclasping the silver future Luna badge from my jacket.

"Until the investigation concludes, you are banned from the medical wing," he announced, his voice projecting for the microphone. "You do not touch the players' food, and you do not handle any medications."

I turned my head. Sienna sat on the bench next to his captain's stall. She held the leather-bound Pack guest registry I had spent two years compiling. My handwritten sticky notes were gone, replaced by fresh white labels bearing her name.

"I am willing to forgive you, Lena," Sienna murmured, smoothing her thumb over the leather cover. "Just stop causing scandals. Carter needs to focus on the playoffs, not family drama."

I looked back at Carter. "Sign a receipt for the pass and the badge. Write down your exact reasons for revoking them."

"I am not playing legal games with you," he snapped.

I pivoted toward the blinking red light of the camera lens. "On this date, Carter Mills revoked my medical and dietary clearances based on an unverified accusation, refusing to review contradictory financial evidence."

Carter's jaw hardened, but he did not stop the recording. This was the first time his stripping of my rank left a permanent public record.

Naomi, the head healer, pushed through the swinging doors. She held the empty amber pillbox up to the harsh fluorescent lights, examining the edges of the label.

"The tamper tape on this bottle does not match the medical center's current inventory batch," Naomi stated, her voice echoing off the metal lockers. "Someone relabeled it after it left the pharmacy. I need forty-eight hours to run a full supply audit."

"Sienna's nerve reaction is worsening by the hour," Carter shot back. "We are not waiting two days for an audit just to give a jealous wife an alibi."

Sienna pushed herself up from the bench. "Carter, I think we should just—"

Her right leg buckled. She pitched forward, her shoulder slamming hard into the steel locker door.

Carter lunged, catching her waist before she hit the tile floor. "Naomi! Prep the surgical suite right now."

Naomi did not move. "Sudden loss of motor function does not align with last night's muscle relaxant overdose. I need to run a secondary scan."

"You will prep her for surgery," Carter snarled, hauling Sienna up against his chest. "Or Northcliff will find a healer who knows how to follow orders."

Ten minutes later, the diagnostic screens in the emergency bay flashed red. Naomi tapped the glass display.

"The nerve pathways are completely blocked," Naomi explained, crossing her arms. "To restore conduction this fast, she needs Moon Blood with a strong Alpha mate resonance. None of our current Northcliff vault samples are a match."

I turned toward the exit doors. I was no longer cleared for medical procedures.

Carter stepped into the doorway, blocking my path. "Where are you going?"

"You banned me from this wing," I reminded him.

"You are the only one here who shares a mate bond with a future Alpha," he said, his tone turning dangerously low. "If you did not poison her, prove it. Do the matching screen."

I stared at the broad chest I used to rest my head against. "You want me to use my body to buy back my innocence?"

"You caused the harm," he replied. "She is the injured one."

"Would you ask Sienna to risk a blood draw to prove a point?" I asked.

He did not blink. "Get in the chair, Lena."

Naomi stepped between us. "A screening swab does not equal consent for a therapeutic draw."

I walked past Carter and extended my arm toward Naomi. "Take the sample. And log a formal note in my medical file that I never refused life-saving intervention. I am only refusing his conviction."

I paused, locking eyes with the healer. "Also, document the seal anomaly from the pillbox in her official chart."

Naomi nodded, swiping the scanner over my forearm. She was the first neutral party to permanently record my side of the story into the Pack system.

The machine hummed. A printed slip slid from the diagnostic tray.

Naomi picked up the paper. She did not check the Moon Blood resonance percentage. She stared at the top line, her mouth pressing into a thin line. Her fingers gripped the edges of the report so tightly the paper crinkled.

I recognized that silence. I reached out and pulled the slip from her hands.

HCG levels. Seven weeks.

The secret I had buried in a velvet box last night was now printed in bold black ink.

Carter walked over, his steps heavy on the linoleum. He snatched the paper from my fingers. His eyes scanned the text, then dropped to my hand resting flat against my stomach.

For a single second, all the anger vanished from his face, leaving behind a complete, hollow blankness.

From the hospital bed, Sienna shifted her numb leg. "Carter?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Does this mean my surgery is canceled?"

Naomi stepped around the diagnostic cart and pushed the paper flat against Carter's chest.

"She is seven weeks pregnant," Naomi declared, her voice slicing through the quiet room. "Any therapeutic Moon Blood draw could mean this child will not survive the night."