He Chose His Mistress: The Pregnant Luna's Escape

Olivia POV:

The gathering had bled late into the night, a blur of toasts and false alliances. The Hayes Pack wine was potent, a dark vintage brewed with moon-berries that was notorious for stripping the inhibitions from even the most disciplined Alpha blood.

Michael, who rarely drank, had consumed glass after glass, intoxicated not just by the alcohol, but by the proximity to power and the fawning attention of the elders.

Back in the guest suite my parents had secured for us—a lavish cage of silk and velvet—the air hung thick with the scent of stale spirits and looming deceit.

I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my swollen ankles, trying to massage away the ache of carrying an Alpha heir.

The door burst open.

Michael stumbled in. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck like a noose, and his eyes were glassy, swimming with unfocused arrogance.

"What a night," he slurred, bracing himself heavily against the doorframe to keep from toppling over. "Did you see them, Liv? They respect me. They finally see what I am."

He staggered toward me. I stood up, instinctively wanting to put distance between us, but he was faster than his drunken state suggested.

He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh as he hauled me into a clumsy, suffocating embrace. His breath reeked of the sweet, cloying wine.

"You did good," he mumbled into my hair, his lips wet against my ear. "Bringing us here. Good girl."

Then his grip tightened. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, as if trying to draw sustenance from my scent.

"Mmm... Serena..." he groaned. "My sweet Serena."

I went rigid. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My blood turned to slush in my veins.

He didn't stop. He pressed his hips against mine, his hands roaming down my back with a familiarity that now felt like a violation. "I hate waiting," he whispered, his voice thick with a lust that wasn't meant for me. "I hate pretending with her. I just want you. Only you."

"Michael," I whispered, my voice trembling so hard it barely left my throat. "Look at me. Who am I?"

He pulled back slightly, blinking. His eyes were hazy, two pools of fog. He looked at my face, but he didn't see me. He saw the ghost he wanted to see.

"You're my love," he said, a goofy, lopsided grin spreading across his face. "My only love."

"And Olivia?" I asked, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. "What about Olivia?"

His expression darkened instantly. A sneer curled his lip, transforming his handsome features into something ugly.

"Olivia... she's just the ticket. The golden ticket. She has the pedigree. She has the money. She looks a bit like you, you know? That's why I picked her. But she's boring. So... boring. And weak."

He laughed, a cruel, hacking sound that grated against my nerves.

"But don't worry. Once the brat is born... I'll reject her. We'll take the kid. It has Hayes blood. It'll be a strong Alpha. We'll raise it. We'll name him... Serenhael. For us."

The air left my lungs. It felt as though invisible hands had wrapped around my throat, squeezing until the edges of my vision went black.

*Serenhael.* He wanted to steal my child and name it after his mistress.

I shoved him. Hard.

"Get off me!" I screamed.

He stumbled back, his coordination failing him. He tripped over the rug and fell heavily onto the bed. He didn't get up. He just groaned, rolled over, and passed out within seconds, his breathing shifting into a loud, rhythmic snore.

I stood there, shaking. My entire body vibrated with a rage I had never felt before. The sorrow evaporated. The heartbreak calcified. All that was left was the cold, hard fury of a mother wolf protecting her young.

I grabbed my coat. I couldn't stay in this room. I couldn't breathe the same air as the monster sleeping in my bed.

I walked out into the hallway. It was empty. The pack house was silent, sleeping off its excesses. I needed to get to the library, to call my lawyer. I needed to—

*Michael? Are you there?*

The Mind-Link. It was open again. He was unconscious, his mental barriers dissolved by the moon-berry wine.

*Serena?* His subconscious answered, automated, dreaming.

*I miss you,* her voice echoed in my head, sickeningly sweet. *Did you tell her? Did you tell the cow?*

*Soon...* his mind drifted, unfiltered and raw. *She is nothing. Just a substitute. I watched you for years, Serena. In the Southern territories. I waited for you. When you ran away... I went crazy. I found her because she had your eyes. That's all she is. A mirror.*

I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor.

A mirror. A substitute.

He had stalked her. He had loved her for years. And when he couldn't have her, he found me.

"He never loved me," I whispered to the empty corridor. "Not for one second."

A strange calm settled over me. It was the icy clarity of the executioner before the blade drops.

"Okay," I said, wiping the tears from my face with a steady hand. "Okay, Michael."

I stood up. My legs were steady now.

"You want a mirror?" I thought, my inner wolf finally stirring, her eyes opening with a flash of silver. "I'll show you what happens when you break one."

I walked to my father’s study. It was locked, but I knew where the spare key was hidden—under the loose floorboard beneath the potted fern.

I entered the room and picked up the phone. I dialed a number I hadn't called in two years.

"Mr. Sterling," I said when the lawyer answered, his voice groggy with sleep.

"Olivia? It's 3 AM. Is everything alright?"

"No," I said. "I need you to draft some papers. Immediately. And I need you to freeze the assets. All of them. The construction funds for the Thorne Pack, the joint accounts, the trust access. Everything."

"Olivia, that will cripple Michael's operations. He won't be able to pay his warriors next week."

"I know," I said, a cold smile touching my lips. "I want the papers ready by morning. And Mr. Sterling?"

"Yes?"

"Prepare the rejection protocols. But keep them sealed. I'm not ready to use them... just yet."