“That isn’t my mate’s name.”
Isla Spencer pushed the report across Dr. Whitmore’s desk and planted one finger beneath the line she had already read four times.
Paternal Genetic Source: Logan Vale.
Outside the office, phones rang and nurses moved between examination rooms, their shoes squeaking against the polished floor. Blackthorn Fertility Center carried on with its ordinary Monday morning while the future Isla had spent months fighting for collapsed into two unfamiliar words.
Dr. Whitmore glanced at the report, then at her. “Miss Spencer, pregnancy hormones can heighten emotional responses. Please sit down before you upset yourself further.”
“My hormones didn’t change the name on your report.”
His mouth tightened.
“The embryo was supposed to be created with Coel Reese’s sample,” she continued. “I checked his name before every injection, every blood draw, every procedure. So please explain why another man is listed as the biological father of my baby.”
Dr. Whitmore picked up the page with obvious reluctance. When he reached the line she had indicated, the color shifted beneath his skin.
He pressed the button on his desk. “Mara, come in here.”
A nurse entered less than a minute later. Her polite smile vanished as soon as she saw the report in his hand.
“Confirm the paternal sample used for Patient 1847,” Dr. Whitmore ordered.
Mara swallowed. “I’ll contact the lab.”
She hurried out.
Isla remained standing, although her knees no longer felt entirely reliable. Sitting would make this seem like a conversation, something to be discussed calmly until a suitable solution was found. There was no suitable solution to discovering that the child in her womb did not belong to the man she loved.
For twelve weeks, she had believed she was carrying Coel’s baby.
She had endured the injections that left purple bruises across her stomach, the nausea, the cramps after the egg retrieval, and the unbearable wait to find out if the embryo had taken. Whenever she had wanted to stop, she had pictured Coel waking from his coma and placing his hand over the small curve of her belly.
Before the rogue attack, they had talked about children. Coel wanted a daughter with Isla’s green eyes; she had teased him that any child of his would inherit his terrible singing voice. When his doctors warned that he might never wake, the sample he had stored years ago became the last piece of the future they had planned together.
The door opened again. Mara returned with Gordon Bell, the gray-haired Beta who managed the clinic.
Bell took the report from Dr. Whitmore, read it, and then looked at Isla with more interest than he had shown the mistake.
“Is she marked?” he asked.
The question landed like a slap.
Mara lowered her gaze. “No.”
“Married?”
“Engaged,” Isla answered. “And standing right here.”
Bell ignored her. “Does she hold a pack position?”
“No,” Mara said.
Whatever concern had entered Bell’s face disappeared. He closed the door before placing the report on the desk.
“There appears to have been an administrative error.”
“You used a stranger’s genetic material to create the embryo inside me.”
“The embryo was created with your egg, Miss Spencer. You remain the biological mother, and the pregnancy is progressing normally.”
“As if that makes this acceptable?”
“You came here because you wanted a child. You are pregnant. The outcome is not entirely different from the one you requested.”
For a moment, Isla could only stare at him. Then the grief inside her sharpened into something hot enough to burn through the shock.
“I asked to carry the child of the man I love.”
Bell released a patient sigh, as though she were making the situation needlessly difficult. “The clinic will refund your treatment costs. We are also prepared to offer fifty thousand dollars as a gesture of goodwill.”
“A gesture of goodwill?” Her voice cracked, and she hated him for hearing it. “You think fifty thousand dollars makes this go away?”
“The alternative is a lengthy dispute that may not end in your favor.”
“I want my complete file, the identity of the man whose sample you used, and an independent bloodline test. After that, I’m calling a lawyer.”
Bell’s expression hardened. “I would reconsider that approach.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It is practical advice. You signed extensive consent forms, and this clinic has excellent legal representation. If you make inflammatory accusations, we will defend ourselves.”
“You just admitted there was an error.”
“I said there appears to have been one.” His gaze traveled over her inexpensive wool coat and the boots she had worn through two winters. “Without an Alpha willing to support your accusation, this becomes the word of a distressed, unmarked Omega against one of the most respected fertility centers in the territory.”
Serena, her wolf, stirred beneath Isla’s skin, more wounded than angry. Her wolf had never been as strong as the others in their old pack, but even she recognized contempt.
Isla snatched the report off the desk. “Then I’ll find the Alpha whose name is on this page.”
Bell gave a humorless laugh. “Men like Logan Vale don’t take calls from Omegas like you.”
He opened the office door and signaled for security.
Two guards escorted her through the crowded lobby while patients pretended not to stare. When she tried to pull free, one of the men tightened his grip until his fingers left red marks around her wrist.
Ten minutes later, Isla stood on the sidewalk with her report crushed against her chest.
A cold wind swept between the glass buildings. She took out her phone, intending to search for a lawyer, but every nearby firm seemed to charge more for a consultation than she earned in a week.
Then Coel’s mother called.
Natalie’s smiling face appeared over Isla’s lock screen, covering part of a photograph taken at Lake Emery. Coel stood behind Isla with his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. They had both been laughing at something she could no longer remember.
The picture had been taken three weeks before the attack.
Isla answered on the fourth ring.
“Isla?” Natalie sounded breathless. “How did the appointment go? Is the baby healthy?”
Her throat closed.
“Yes,” she managed. “The baby is healthy.”
“Oh, thank the Goddess.” Natalie’s voice softened. “You’ve given Coel a reason to come back to us. He would be so proud of you.”
Isla stared at Coel’s face on the screen.
She knew she had not betrayed him. What the clinic had done was not her fault, but guilt had little interest in reason. Coel had trusted her with the future they planned together, and now another Alpha’s child was growing beneath her heart.
“I’ll call you later,” she whispered.
She ended the call before Natalie could hear her cry.
After wiping her cheek with the heel of her hand, Isla turned toward the curb—and nearly collided with a man stepping away from a black SUV.
He stopped so abruptly that the Beta behind him almost walked into his back.
Even among Alphas, he would have been impossible to overlook. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal coat that fit as though it had been made directly on his body. His dark hair was swept back from a face too severe to be handsome in any gentle, harmless way.
His gaze locked on Isla.
Something shifted in the air.
The scent of cedar, smoke, and winter rain wrapped around her before she could retreat. Serena surged awake, no longer weak or wounded, and warmth unfurled low in Isla’s abdomen in an instinctive answer to the Alpha’s presence.
His eyes flashed molten gold.
Pup.
The word did not come from Serena. It seemed to vibrate through the charged space between them, carried by the growl of another wolf.
Ours.
Isla stepped backward.
The stranger crossed the distance between them and caught her arm, though his grip fell just above the bruises left by the guards.
“Who are you?”
“Someone having a terrible day.” She tugged against his hold. “Let go.”
Instead, he leaned closer and drew in a slow breath. His attention dropped to her stomach, still concealed beneath her sweater and coat.
“Impossible,” he murmured.
“If you’re looking for problems, take a number.”
She pushed the crumpled report against his chest. His eyes dropped to the page, and the moment he saw the name printed there, his fingers tightened around her arm.
“Why is my name on your embryo report?”
A chill slid down Isla’s spine.
She had seen Logan Vale in newspapers and business magazines,but only in silhouette. Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack. Owner of Vale Global. A man wealthy enough to buy half the city and powerful enough to make the other half nervous.
Gordon Bell’s laughter echoed in her memory.
“Logan Vale?”
His gaze returned to her stomach. “You’re carrying my blood.”
“The clinic used the wrong sample. I found out less than an hour ago.” The words tumbled out faster than she intended. “They offered me fifty thousand dollars, threatened me when I asked for my records, and had security throw me outside.”
Logan noticed the marks around her wrist.
The gold in his eyes burned brighter.
“You’re coming with me.”
“I’m going to find a lawyer.”
“You were thrown into the street carrying my pup. We’re going back inside.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
His jaw flexed. “You can argue with me after a doctor confirms that the pup is safe.”
Before she could protest, he placed one firm hand at her back and turned her toward the entrance. Two men fell into step behind them, and the same guards who had dragged her out moved aside without being asked.
The receptionist went pale.
Bell appeared in the lobby moments later. “Alpha Vale. We weren’t expecting—”
“No,” Logan said. “You weren’t.”
Within fifteen minutes, Isla was back in an examination room. A nervous doctor confirmed that her pregnancy was stable, while a preliminary bloodline test verified what Logan’s wolf had already recognized.
The child carried Vale blood.
When Bell tried to call the incident an unfortunate misunderstanding, Logan rose from his chair with such controlled menace that every lower-ranking wolf in the room lowered their gaze.
“You used my genetic material without permission,” he said. “You impregnated an Omega with it, threatened her when she demanded answers, and then threw her onto the street carrying my heir.”
“We didn’t realize Miss Spencer was under your protection.”
Logan’s expression turned glacial.
“She shouldn’t have needed my protection for you to treat her like a person.”
The words struck somewhere deep inside Isla.
Logan demanded a written apology, a full refund, independent medical care, and five million dollars in compensation, with no confidentiality agreement unless a lawyer of Isla’s choosing approved it.
Bell agreed so quickly that it was almost embarrassing.
When they were finally alone, Isla rubbed her aching wrist. “Thank you.”
Logan turned toward her.
“You didn’t have to help me,” she continued. “Not after what they did with your sample.”
“They harmed what belongs to me.”
The warmth his defense had stirred inside her cooled at once.
“The baby may carry your blood, but I don’t belong to you.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “I know.”
That answer surprised her enough to make the next words harder.
“You deserved to know what happened, and I’m grateful for what you did. But this pregnancy was forced on both of us.” Isla curled her fingers around the edge of the examination table. “I love Coel. I agreed to carry his child, not yours.”
Logan went still.
“I’m not keeping the baby.”
His Alpha scent flooded the room. Serena bristled, yet beneath her fear came a fierce, confusing urge to shield the life inside them.
Logan stepped closer, his wolf blazing through his eyes.
“I’m not losing my pup.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Then tell me what it will take, Omega.” Logan closed the last inch between them, powerful, furious, and utterly immovable. “Because you’re going to carry my child.”
