My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 06

My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 06

“Though, I have to admit, I never expected to find out she wasn’t even mine,” Andrew scoffed, his

words striking like a thunderbolt through the silent room.

“But I suppose it’s a stroke of luck. You ran off and opened your legs for some useless human,

producing a runt without a single spark of a wolf spirit. It’s fate, Claire. Poetic justice.”

The sheer, sickening weight of his words shattered what was left of my sanity. I couldn’t

comprehend how he had swallowed Julia’s venomous web of lies hook, line, and sinker.

I couldn’t grasp how the man I had loved for seven years could be such a soulless, unfeeling

monster.

I knew there was no logic that would pierce his skull right now, no evidence that could make him see the truth. All I had left was the raw, bleeding desperation of a mother.

“Andrew, I am begging you, look at me!” I screamed choking on my own spit. “In college-when you were dying-I was the one who saved you! I sacrificed half of my own Moon-Heart to keep you

alive-”

Before the truth could fully leave my lips, Andrew crossed the distance between us in a flash of

shadow and cracked his heavy palm across my face. The blow sent my head slamming against

the cold metal floor.

“I think it’s time you shut your pathetic mouth for good,” Andrew snarled, his expression dark, feral,

and utterly twisted, looking at me like he wanted to rip my throat out with his bare teeth.

“I am not a fool, Claire. I know exactly who gave up her soul to save me, and it wasn’t a lying bitch

like you. Julia is the reason I am standing here today.” He leaned in closer, his gold eyes boring into

mine.

“If you ever try to steal credit for her sacrifice again I will make sure you suffer a hell a hundred

times worse than this.”

The heavy sedatives they had pumped into my veins were fully taking hold, rendering my limbs

completely useless.

No matter how violently my soul screamed, my body wouldn’t obey. I was entirely paralyzed.

And inside the operating room, the harvest continued.

“Andrew! You monster! You’re a beast! You’re not human!!”

I stared through the glass, my eyes straining so hard the vessels burst, turning my vision into a horrific, blood-red smear.

The veins in my neck and arms bulged, turning black against my pale skin as I thrashed uselessly against the restraints.

“Andrew!! If there is a single shred of humanity left in you, look at her!! Open your goddamn eyes

and look at her!! That is your biological daughter! How can you do this to her?!”

Whether it was a deliberate act of sheer malice or a twisted form of punishment, Andrew had left

the operating room door wide open.

I was forced to watch. I was forced to see the ethereal, blinding silver glow of the Moon-Heart

being brutally torn out from inside my little girl’s chest.

The moment that beautiful light was forcibly severed from her body and slammed into the chest of the other boy, a high-pitched, deafening ringing exploded inside my ears.

Suddenly, I couldn’t hear anything anymore.

The world around me bled of all color, fading into a stark, dead monochromatic gray. Time

stopped.

My tears felt like liquid magma, searing my eyelids and burning tracks down my face, yet the grief was so heavy that the moisture dried up entirely before it could fall. Everything was slipping away, fading into a distant, muted void.

But in the hazy, overlapping static of my breaking mind, I thought I heard her. I thought I heard my sweet little girl, crying out through the pain, screaming for her Mama.

I parted my dry, bloody lips, desperately trying to answer her, trying to tell her Mama was right here –but not a single vibration left my throat. The darkness rushed in, and I crashed into a deep,

merciful unconsciousness.

When my eyes finally flared open again, I was lying in a sterile, white hospital bed.

The room was deathly quiet. And right beside my pillow sat two things: a cold, clinical piece of paper certifying Mia’s death, and a tiny, lightweight urn.

They hadn’t even waited for me to wake up. They had cremated my baby girl’s body like she was nothing but medical waste.

“Mia is gone. Our slate is wiped clean,” Andrew’s voice drifted over from the corner of the room. He let out a soft sigh, his tone carrying a rare, sickeningly gentle warmth.

“We were married for seven years, Claire. It’s not like I never loved you. The fact that you cheated on me, the fact that you tried to steal Julia’s credit I’m willing to let all of it go. It’s in the past.”

He walked over to the bed, looking down at me with an expression of utterly repulsive

magnanimity.

“I won’t even waste my time hunting down whichever bastard fathered that stray child. You will stay here. You will remain the Walsh Luna, and I will continue to love you. I’ll have the pack doctors clean up those nasty bruises on your skin.”

I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t even blink. If I had a single ounce of strength left in my broken bones, I would have flung myself across the mattress and torn his throat out with my fingernails to drag

him down to hell with our daughter.

His self-righteous, “deeply devoted” speech made bile rise in the back of my throat. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever heard.

Staring blankly at the death certificate and the tiny wooden urn, my brain short-circuited. The reality hit me in waves, causing me to hyperventilate and lose consciousness, waking up only to

scream into the empty room until I passed out again.

By the time the final haze broke, my eyes were swollen shut and my vocal cords were entirely

shredded; I couldn’t make a sound.

Finding Andrew gone from the room, I frantically grabbed the nearest nurse by her scrubs, my hands shaking violently as I tried to gesture, desperate to find out where that monster was hiding. I

wanted to tear him apart piece by piece.

Days passed in a blur of hollow, silent agony. When the strength finally returned to my fingers, I pulled out a burner phone and dialed my attorney, laying out the absolute finality of my

arrangements.

I wasn’t completely stupid. The day Mia had been pushed into the lake, I had realized that Andrew would never believe a single word that came out of my mouth.

From that exact moment onward, I had carried a concealed digital voice recorder on my person at

all times.

Every single conversation, every malicious taunt, and every confession that had spilled out of Julia Mitchell’s mouth over the past week was captured in crystal-clear audio.

Furthermore, the moment Julia had dropped the bomb about the forged paternity tests, I had

taken a contingency measure.

I had quietly harvested several strands of Andrew’s hair from our shared bathroom and rushed

them to a private human genetics clinic for a definitive bloodline compatibility test.

The official, certified results had just landed in my secure inbox today.

It was a perfect, undeniable match. Mia was his biological daughter.

But the truth had arrived a lifetime too late.

With numb, shaking fingers, I gathered everything into a sturdy wooden box: the finalized, binding mating-bond dissolution papers, the digital voice recorder, printed screenshots of the server

emails, the certified paternity results, the old hospital records of my own cardiac sacrifice, and that

frayed, cheap little braided plastic bracelet he had given me when we were children.

I sealed the box and arranged for a courier to deliver it directly to the Walsh Alpha Estate.

Once the package was out of my hands, I clutched the tiny, lightweight urn tight against my chest- my beautiful, innocent sweet girl-and walked through the gates of the international airport.

I boarded a one-way flight out of the country, leaving behind the blood-soaked soil of a pack that had given me nothing but living hell. I closed my eyes as the plane lifted off, vowing that I would never, as long as I lived, lay eyes on Andrew Walsh ever again.