The Secret Mistress: Poisoning The Alpha's Unborn Heir

Lana POV:

I didn't sleep. I sat in the armchair by the window, watching the sun rise over the city skyline that the Moonlight Pack controlled.

My phone had buzzed all night. Text after text from Caren.

Make sure the curtains are drawn. He hates the morning light.

If he wakes up aggressive, don't look him in the eye. Submit. It calms his wolf.

I hope you didn't try to initiate anything. He's tired, Lana.

She was coaching me. She was teaching me how to handle my own husband, positioning herself as the expert, the one who held the manual to Jameson's soul. It was a subtle, poisonous power play.

On the bed, Jameson stirred.

I stiffened. My scent must have spiked with anxiety because his nose twitched.

Suddenly, a melodic, chiming ringtone cut through the silence. It wasn't the standard ringtone. It was a custom one.

Jameson sat up instantly.

There was no grogginess. No hangover headache. His Alpha reflexes were sharp. He snatched his phone from the nightstand before I could even blink.

He turned his back to me.

"Hey," he whispered. His voice was a low rumble, dripping with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. "Did you sleep well?"

He wasn't talking to me.

I reached out with my mind, trying to push through the Mind-Link. I needed to feel him. I needed to know if he felt any guilt.

Jameson? I projected my thought.

Nothing.

It was like hitting a brick wall. He had blocked me.

An Alpha can block anyone from their mind, but blocking your Mate? That takes effort. That takes deliberate intent. It creates a cold, empty void where the connection should be.

I heard a giggle from the phone speaker.

"I miss you too," Jameson murmured. "Yeah. It was... boring. Just ceremony stuff."

Boring. Our wedding was boring.

He hung up after a minute, a soft smile lingering on his lips. Then he turned around and saw me. The smile vanished instantly, replaced by the cold, impassive mask of the Alpha.

"Why are you staring at me?" he snapped.

"Who was that?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Business," he said, standing up. He walked naked to the bathroom, completely unashamed. "Beta matters. You wouldn't understand the politics, Lana."

"It sounded like Caren," I said.

He stopped in the doorway. He didn't turn around. "Caren is having a hard time, Lana. She's wolf-less. Vulnerable. She doesn't have your privilege. Since you've been so busy playing the blushing bride, someone had to check on her."

He made it sound like my fault. Like my status was a sin and her weakness was a virtue.

He walked back toward me, likely intending to give me a perfunctory morning hug.

As he got close, the smell hit me.

It wasn't the crisp scent of the forest or the musk of a male. It was vanilla and cheap lavender.

It was her scent. It was clinging to his skin, woven into his pores. It was so strong it masked his own pheromones.

I gagged. My body reacted violently, shoving him away.

"Don't touch me!" I cried out.

Jameson's eyes flashed gold-his wolf rising to the surface, offended by the rejection. "Watch your tone, Lana."

"The tattoo," I pointed a shaking finger at his chest. "What is that, Jameson? What is under that 'C'?"

He looked down, feigning surprise. He touched the fresh ink.

"This?" He let out a scoffing laugh. "You're hysterical. This is for a fallen comrade. Carter. He died in the border skirmish last year. I got it to honor him."

"Carter?" I whispered. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to trust your Alpha," he growled, stepping into my personal space. The pressure of his aura weighed down on me. He was using his dominance to silence me. "Stop being paranoid. It's unbecoming."

"I saw the bite mark, Jameson," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I saw the scar."

His face twitched. For a second, I saw panic. Then, it was gone, replaced by smooth, practiced lies.

"It's an old battle scar, Lana. The tattoo covers it because it was ugly. I'm going to the Witch Doctor today to get the ink removed if it upsets you that much. Are you happy now?"

He was gaslighting me. He was looking me in the eye and rewriting reality.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shift and tear the room apart.

But I couldn't.

I looked in the mirror. I saw a pale, trembling woman. A high-born daughter of an Elder who couldn't even shift fully. My wolf was dormant, broken. I was practically a Beta in a Luna's position.

Buzz.

My phone.

Father: How is the morning? Your mother's heart is weak today. She is so happy you are finally settled. Do not cause trouble, Lana. The pack needs this alliance.

I looked at the message. Then I looked at Jameson, who was already dressing, whistling a tune.

If I exposed him now, the alliance would shatter. My mother's heart might give out. The pack would fall into chaos.

I unclenched my fists. I lowered my head.

"Okay," I whispered, the lie tasting like ash. "Okay, Jameson. Go remove it."