Carrying the Alpha’s Pup, Cast Aside

Aria’s POV

By the time I ended the call, the muffled sounds that had leaked from the Alpha’s office—ragged breathing, the scrape of furniture, a rhythm I wished I could forget—had finally gone quiet.

My hands felt numb as I turned away and walked back toward the council meeting room. The stone floors felt colder than usual beneath my shoes. I forced myself into a chair, spreading the reports in front of me as if work alone could anchor me. I spoke softly with my assistant, giving instructions I barely registered, all while a wave of sickness rolled through my stomach. The pup stirred uneasily inside me, as though it sensed my distress.

I had no idea how much time slipped by before the heavy office door creaked open.

Ronan emerged first, his presence filling the hallway the way an Alpha’s always did—commanding, unavoidable. Delilah followed a step behind him, her head lowered just enough to look modest.

He’d swapped into a clean suit jacket, but he hadn’t bothered changing his shirt. Near his collar, faint but unmistakable, was the ghost of a lipstick mark. My gaze lingered there despite myself, my chest tightening.

Delilah, meanwhile, had clearly taken time to fix her appearance. Her makeup was flawless again, yet the warmth coloring her cheeks betrayed what no powder could hide.

I rose, intending to leave without a word. I didn’t have the strength for this.

But Delilah drifted toward me before I could escape, her smile bright and harmless, as if we were old friends meeting by chance.

“Aria, right?” she said lightly. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Today’s my first day at the pack offices—what a funny coincidence.”

I kept my expression blank, saying nothing.

She stepped closer, both hands wrapped around a glass of steaming water. Then, just as she reached me, her foot slid forward. Her body tipped toward mine.

“Oh!” she cried.

The glass shattered loudly against the floor. I managed to dodge aside at the last second, but she crumpled dramatically against the edge of the table, clinging to it as if her strength had abandoned her.

Her voice wavered, thin and trembling. “Did I offend you somehow? Why would you push me like that?”

The performance was so transparent it almost insulted my intelligence. I stared at her in silence, too tired to argue.

But Ronan was already there.

He hurried to her side, one arm steadying her shoulders, concern written plainly across his face. “Milly, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Then he looked at me.

The warmth vanished instantly. His brows drew together, his eyes sharpening into something cold and judgmental.

“Miss Ravenscar,” he said curtly, “you’re carrying a child. You should know better than to be wandering around like this. Being pregnant doesn’t give you the right to lay hands on new pack members.”

There was no hesitation in his tone. No pause to ask what had actually happened. He accepted her version without question, as if it were already proven fact.

“I didn’t touch her,” I said quietly, my voice barely holding together.

He scoffed. “So you’re telling me she just fell on her own?”

Each word struck like a barb, piercing deeper than the last.

The two of them stood so close, their bodies angled instinctively toward each other. I suddenly felt like an outsider intruding on a scene I was never meant to witness.

I turned away without another word, one hand flying to my mouth as I hurried toward the restroom.

The nausea finally won.

I gripped the edge of the sink and retched violently, my shoulders shaking as tears spilled down my face. My wolf whimpered inside me, distressed and restless.

Then the door slammed open behind me.

Ronan stepped inside.

He frowned slightly, lowering his voice as if we were sharing a secret. “Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said. “I was a bit harsh earlier because others were watching. I couldn’t show favoritism.”

He moved closer, reaching out as though to support me. “You shouldn’t have tripped Delilah, but I know you didn’t mean any harm. You’re emotional right now—it happens.”

I said nothing.

“Go home,” he continued gently. “Rest. Don’t overexert yourself or upset the pup. I’ll return tonight and stay with you.”

I straightened slowly, wiping my mouth. When I met his eyes again, I forced my lips into a faint smile.

“Very well, Alpha Blackcliff,” I replied calmly.

His hand stopped midair.

I had never addressed him like that before.

I was always the one clinging to him, calling him Ronan, calling him my mate, my future husband. I used to hate formal titles between us. They felt like walls.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across his face.

Then the sharp click of heels echoed outside the door. Another pack member entered the restroom.

Ronan reacted instantly.

He dropped his hand and stepped back as if burned, his expression icing over. “Miss Ravenscar,” he said loudly, “this is a place of work. Please behave appropriately. Whatever affection you show your mate should stay at home—not here.”

Your mate.

Behave appropriately.

The words washed over me like freezing rain.

Without sparing me another glance, he turned and left, his retreat swift and decisive, as though he needed everyone to see the boundary he’d just drawn between us.

I remained there, one hand resting instinctively over my stomach, shielding the life inside me.

For a long while, I stood completely still.

Even my tears had run dry.