My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 03

My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 03

Through Andrew’s venomous shouting, the pieces finally clicked together. The woman standing before me was Julia Mitchell, his high school lover.

“Mr. Walsh,” the teacher stammered, her eyes rimmed with red as she tried to defend my daughter.

She was visibly shaking, clearly mistaking Andrew for the other boy’s father. “Multiple children saw it. Dylan pushed Mia first, and then he lost his balance and fell into the lake himself.”

A brief flash of awkwardness crossed Andrew’s face, but Julia didn’t give him a single second to speak up or correct the teacher.

“You tiny, lying wretch!” Julia shrieked, lunging past me toward the hospital bed, her manicured nails aimed straight for my daughter’s face. “I’ll teach you to slander my son at school!”

Every boundary of my patience snapped. Before she could touch my child, I stepped into her path and threw my entire weight into a brutal, ringing backhand that cracked across Julia’s face.

An instant later, a sharp, blinding pain exploded in my stomach.

Andrew had lunged forward to shield Julia, driving his heavy, combat-booted foot directly into my stomach. The force of the kick sent me crashing hard against the linoleum floor.

“Consider this your only warning,” Andrew snarled, crowding over me as I panted for air on the ground.

“Keep your hands off her, and teach your runt some manners. Don’t let her learn to be as malicious and vile as her mother at such a tender age.”

Without another glance in my direction, he wrapped a protective arm around Julia, scooped up Dylan, and stormed out of the pediatric ward.

Before the door swung shut, Dylan turned back around, flashing a nasty, mocking grimace at me and his wounded sister.

“Mama…” Mia sobbed from the bed, her tiny frame shivering violently beneath the sheets, the IV line trembling in her vein. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. “Did Mia do something bad?”

“Does Papa… does Papa not love Mia anymore?”

I crawled back to my feet and dragged myself over to stroke her matted hair, my own tears blinding me.

I didn’t have the words to answer her. I couldn’t find a single lie to protect her innocent organ, so we just held each other and wept into the sterile hospital pillows.

The next morning, I dragged myself out to the courtyard. I had spent hours digging through old boxes, pulling out every single love letter, anniversary card, and handwritten note Andrew had ever given me.

I threw them into a rusted iron bin alongside the cardboard box containing seven years of our shared life, doused it in lighter fluid, and set it ablaze.

As the fumes began to choke the morning air, a sharp heel clicked against the stone pavement. Julia Mitchell walked into the yard, watching the roaring fire with a cruel, smug grin splitting her face.

“Finally facing reality, are we?” she purred, her voice dripping with mockery.

“You were nothing but a placeholder, Claire. A cheap, warm body Andrew used to comfort himself after he lost me. But don’t worry—the real show hasn’t even started yet.”

Her eyes drifted down to my left hand, her expression twisting into a sickening look of pity.

“That diamond on your finger? I used to wear it. I got bored of it, so he bought me a brand-new custom piece. He thought it would be a waste to just throw that old thing in a drawer, so he tossed it to you like a scrap to a stray dog. Tell me, does it still fit? Or is it a little too loose?”

Her words felt like countless venomous insects boring into my torso, devouring the tissue of my organ bit by bit.

That ring—which had always been slightly too large for my ring finger, a detail I had blindly ignored—suddenly felt heavy enough to snap my bone.

She took a slow, predatory step toward me, violently snatching my left wrist in her grip.

“And honestly, your husband is just as pathetic and stupid as you are,” she whispered maliciously, leaning in until I could smell her perfume.

“Do you want to know why he treats his own flesh and kin like a piece of garbage?”

“All it took was a little lie. I told him your daughter was the product of a filthy affair you had behind his back, handed him a forged lineage compatibility certificate, and he swallowed it whole without a single question.”

Julia let out a sharp, giggling laugh, her grip tightening until my skin bruised. “Awful, doesn’t it? Go ahead—try telling him the truth. Let’s see if he believes his precious Alpha lineage, or the woman who owns his soul.”

The sheer disgust overloading my senses gave me a sudden surge of strength. I violently wrenched my wrist out of her grasp, shoving her away from me.

Julia didn’t even try to balance herself; she intentionally threw her body backward, letting out a sharp, theatrical shriek just as the heavy thud of Andrew’s footsteps rounded the corner of the house.

He caught her seamlessly, locking her against his torso as his eyes turned a dangerous, predatory gold.

I didn’t cower. I didn’t flinch. I stood perfectly still by the blazing barrel, staring at them through the thick, black fumes, completely done with hiding.

“Yeah, I threw her off me,” I said, my voice dead, completely stripped of the love that used to anchor it. “What are you going to do about it, Andrew?”

Sensing the chilling shift in my demeanor, a rare flash of raw, unadulterated panic flickered in Andrew’s eyes. But the second Julia let out a muffled, trembling sob against his neck, his wolf reasserted its dominance, blinding him with rage.

He stepped across the grass, his large palm swinging around in a brutal arc that cracked hard against my jaw.

The force of the strike tore my lip open, the metallic taste of vital fluid immediately coating my tongue.

He didn’t say a single word. He just scooped Julia into his arms, turned his back on me, and marched out of the courtyard without ever looking back.

I stood alone in the suffocating heat of the fire, the tears finally spilling over my heated skin.

Slowly, I reached down, pulled the loose diamond ring off my finger, and flung it directly into the glowing, fuming ashes of our marriage.