Ava Clements POV:

"Ava, please," Derrick stammered, his voice laced with guilt. He looked like a cornered animal. "I'm so sorry. I... I never meant for you to find out like this."

He took a shaky breath. "Charlotte's situation is complicated. Her family is very traditional. A single mother, especially in her circles, would be a huge scandal. It would ruin her reputation entirely."

He wrung his hands, avoiding my gaze. "I had to help her, Ava. It was the only way."

"Help her?" I yelled, my voice cracking. "By making my child, our child, a secret? By making me a pariah?"

My voice vibrated with outrage. "You would abandon your own flesh and blood to protect her reputation?"

He pulled me into a tight hug, his arms crushing me. It felt suffocating, not comforting.

"Calm down, Ava," he murmured into my hair, his voice insistent. "Just calm down. Listen to me."

He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping my shoulders. His eyes were desperate. "My inheritance, Ava. The Bradford Corporation. My parents would disown me if they knew. Two women. Both pregnant. It would be a disaster. The merger we're working on? It would collapse."

He squeezed my shoulders, almost begging. "We just need a little time. This is temporary. Just until the merger goes through, and Charlotte's baby is born. Then everything can go back to normal."

I struggled against his grip, finally pulling free. I stared at him, my gaze venomous.

"So, you want me to sacrifice my reputation?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft. "My child's legitimacy? For your inheritance? For her reputation?"

My hand went to my stomach, a protective instinct. "What about my baby, Derrick? What about our child? Will they just be... an 'accident' forever?"

"No! Never!" he insisted, his voice rising. "You know I love you, Ava! You know I'm loyal to you!"

He took a step closer, pleading. "Just a little sacrifice, for us. For our future. For both of us, and for Charlotte. Please, Ava. Just for a little while. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll mark you, I'll marry you as soon as this blows over. Our child will have everything. I swear."

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. It was a hollow, ugly sound. This man, who cared so much about his family's image, was willing to shred mine to pieces. His 'love' felt like a cruel joke.

It hit me then. The subtle distance, the missed calls, the excuses for late nights. He hadn't marked me in two years, despite all his promises. The signs had been there, painted in neon. He'd never stopped loving her, had he? I was just a convenient distraction, a placeholder.

A small crowd had gathered, nurses and doctors whispering, pointing. The public humiliation was a fresh wound.

"Come on, Ava," Derrick said, his voice firmer now, taking my arm again. "Let's go home. We can talk about this there."

He led me out to his car, his arm draped possessively over my shoulder. Charlotte, trailing behind us, practically skipped to the passenger side. She opened the door and slid in, a triumphant smirk on her face. Her oversized designer handbag lay on the seat, spilling out a small, plush baby blanket, embroidered with an ornate "B."

"Oh, Derrick, look," Charlotte cooed, her voice sickly sweet. "You remembered my special blanket. You're always so thoughtful."

Derrick shot her a furious glare. "Charlotte, stop it! Not another word."

She pouted, her plump lips forming a childish shape. "But my baby needs its daddy to be nice. You don't want to upset the baby, do you?"

Derrick, ever the fool, fell for it. His anger softened. He reached out, his hand gently touching her belly.

"Is the baby okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly tender. "Are you sure it wasn't too much?"

I closed the back door softly, the click echoing the finality in my soul. The drive home was a blur of Derrick's frantic explanations. He talked about Charlotte's powerful father, the ruin her family would face, the absolute necessity of him stepping up.

"I have to help her, Ava," he repeated, over and over, like a broken record. "You understand, don't you? It's just for a little while."

"Why don't you just tell her to get an abortion?" I muttered, my voice flat, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.

Charlotte burst into fresh tears in the front seat. "Oh, Derrick, she's so cruel! How could she say that about our baby?"

Derrick immediately turned to her, his hand rubbing her back. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Don't listen to her. I'll protect you both. I promise."

Then, through the rearview mirror, his eyes met mine. They were cold, accusing.

"Ava, that was uncalled for," he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. "How could you be so heartless? I risked everything for you, for us, when I broke it off with Charlotte the first time. I can't abandon her now, not with a baby on the way."

His words hit me like a physical blow. He wasn't defending me. He was chastising me. And in that moment, I knew. There was no 'us' anymore.

Ava Clements POV:

His words, like poisoned arrows, pierced through what little hope I had left. He thought I was heartless? After everything?

I quickly wiped the fresh tears from my cheeks. No more. I wouldn't cry for him. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My voice, when it came, was calm, almost detached.

"Then let's make this easier for everyone," I said, my gaze fixed on his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Take Charlotte. Take her baby. And I'll leave. I'm sure someone else will be happy to take me in, and my child."

Derrick slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt on the side of the road, throwing me forward against the seatbelt.

He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a furious light. "What are you talking about? Leave? Are you insane?"

His voice was a low growl. "You're not going anywhere, Ava. You're carrying my child. I won't let you go. And I won't give up on either of my children."

The next morning, the house was swarming with security personnel. They patrolled the perimeter, their stern faces impassive. Derrick had locked me in my room, confiscating my phone and laptop. He said it was for my own good, to keep me safe from the media storm. It felt more like a prison.

Loud noises from downstairs startled me awake. I crept to the top of the grand staircase, peering over the railing. Charlotte and her mother, a woman with a face as sharp as her tongue, were directing a flurry of movers. Huge trunks and designer luggage were being carried into the best guest suites.

Charlotte's mother spotted me. A sneer twisted her lips.

"Look at the whore," she hissed, loud enough for me to hear. "Still clinging to what isn't hers. Parading her bastard child around."

She pulled Charlotte into an embrace, patting her back. "My poor darling, having to endure this. Derrick should have sent this... thing away the moment he found out about her pregnancy."

Charlotte lowered her head, feigning shame, but her eyes flickered up, meeting mine. A triumphant, mocking smile played on her lips. She mouthed a silent "He chose me."

Rage, cold and pure, surged through me. My hand flew up, a primal instinct. The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed through the silent house.

Charlotte's hand flew to her face, eyes wide with feigned shock. Tears welled up, spilling dramatically down her face. She wailed, a high-pitched, piercing sound.

"Ava! What have you done?!" Derrick's roar came from behind me.

I turned, my heart sinking. He hadn't seen Charlotte's taunt. He had only seen my strike. She was a master manipulator, and I had fallen right into her trap.

Charlotte's cries grew louder, drawing her furious mother closer. Her eyes, filled with hatred, glared at me.

"You shameless hussy!" Charlotte's mother shrieked. "How dare you lay a hand on my daughter! You think you can just hook your claws into a Bradford and get away with it? Your little bastard won't fool anyone!"

She turned to Derrick. "Derrick, how can you let this woman stay here? She' s a cheat, a liar, and now a common brawler! I'm taking Charlotte home if you don't send her away!"

Charlotte buried her face in Derrick's chest, sobbing hysterically. Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine again. This time, the smirk was undeniable.

Derrick stood frozen for a long moment, his face a mask of indecision. He gently pushed Charlotte away, his gaze falling on me.

"Charlotte, you can leave," he said, his voice surprisingly firm. "But Ava stays."

Charlotte gasped, her sobs abruptly cut off. Her eyes widened, staring at us in disbelief. Then, with a furious scream, she stormed out, her mother trailing behind her, muttering threats.

"You bastard! You'll regret this, Derrick! You've ruined everything!" her mother screeched as she followed Charlotte out of the house.

Derrick looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. He was asking for my understanding, for my permission. My acquiescence for the sacrifice he demanded.

I understood. I always did. The weight of his family's name, the precariousness of his position. He was trapped, a weak man in a gilded cage.

I was moved to the small guesthouse on the estate. It was damp and cramped, a stark contrast to the luxurious rooms in the main villa that Charlotte now enjoyed.

"It's just temporary, Ava," Derrick promised, his voice soft. "Just until Charlotte is settled. Then I'll buy us a new house, a home for just us and our baby."

I didn't argue. My mind was already elsewhere. Escape. That was the only thought that mattered. Every waking moment was spent plotting. I even considered asking Charlotte for help, a desperate, foolish thought.

But Charlotte just laughed. "Derrick and I have a bond you couldn't possibly understand, Ava," she'd sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He trusts me implicitly. He always has."

And I saw the truth in her eyes, a cold, hard certainty that chilled me to the bone. I realized then how wrong I'd been.

Every night, I would lie awake, listening to the muffled sounds of Derrick reading bedtime stories to Charlotte's unborn child from the main house. Then, much later, I'd hear his footsteps, hesitant and slow, approaching my guesthouse.

He'd slip into my room, calling my name softly, "Ava? Are you awake?"

I always pretended to be asleep, my back to him.

One night, I finally broke my silence. "What do you want, Derrick?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

His voice was thick with pain. "Do you hate me so much, Ava? Don't you trust my love for you anymore?"

A flicker of pity, cold and fleeting, touched my heart. But I quickly extinguished it. He didn't deserve it. He deserved this agonizing emptiness he felt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a silent tear tracing a path to my ear. He wouldn't see it. He wouldn't know.

"I will have this baby, Derrick," I said, my voice firm. "But this confinement isn't good for either of us. I need fresh air. I need my phone. And I need to speak to my mother."

He pulled me into an embrace from behind, his arms strong but his touch hollow. "Yes, Ava. Anything you want. Just promise me you'll rest. Promise me you'll stay calm."

His voice, however, held a strange, almost excited edge. The air suddenly felt heavy with an unspoken bargain. He thought he had me exactly where he wanted me.

Ava Clements POV:

I grew up as an omega without a father, a constant reminder of my vulnerability in a world that favored strength and bloodlines. My mother, Annabel, and I were a unit, fiercely protective of each other, an island against the currents of judgment and scarcity. We had no other family, just us. Derrick's parents, the Bradfords, had seen me as an unacceptable blight on their lineage, a stained commoner unfit for their heir. Yet, Derrick had chosen me. He had stood against his domineering parents, or so I believed. I thought our love was enough to conquer all. For a brief, intoxicating period, I had felt truly loved, truly cherished, in a way I never thought possible.

But the fire of that love had slowly, agonizingly, dwindled to embers.

That night, he stayed. I didn't refuse him. I was too numb, too broken. But the lingering scent of Charlotte's perfume on his skin, faint but unmistakable, turned my stomach. It was a tangible reminder of his betrayal, a stench of deceit that clung to him.

The next morning, Derrick was annoyingly cheerful. He kissed my forehead, a perfunctory gesture devoid of genuine affection.

"Thank you, Ava," he murmured, his voice brimming with false relief. "Thank you for being so understanding. For making this easier. It means the world to me that my two most important women can be so amicable."

He left me with empty promises of making it up to me, of buying me a new house, of a future he clearly didn't intend to build with me. After breakfast, he returned my phone. A small victory. He also permitted me supervised walks around the estate. A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.

The first thing I did was call my mother. Derrick didn't know about Bronson Mays. He didn't know my mother wasn't alone anymore, that we weren't weak and vulnerable. He didn't know I finally had a way out. A plan began to form, a desperate, fragile tendril of hope.

The next few months were a strange, uneasy truce. Charlotte flaunted her private nutritionist and personal trainer, her every move designed to highlight my lack of such privileges. I ignored her, my gaze fixed on a different horizon.

Then, at eight months pregnant, Charlotte had a scare. A complication, the doctors said. They recommended a specialized hospital, far away. Derrick, panicked, immediately began packing. He was leaving. Again.

I curled up in the corner of my small bedroom, my hands instinctively going to my own swollen belly. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt impossibly weak. My wolf soul, usually a fierce protector, whimpered deep inside me.

'He's leaving again, Ava,' it mourned, a raw, aching sound. 'He's breaking our bond. We might not survive this time.'

'I have to,' I whispered back, a fierce denial. 'I'll survive. We'll survive. We always do.'

Derrick paused at the doorway, a fleeting glance thrown my way. His face was etched with fatigue, but also a flicker of genuine concern.

"Ava? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

I didn't answer. I wouldn't show weakness. Not to him.

"I'll be back before the baby arrives, I promise," he said, his voice softer now. "Charlotte's situation is urgent. But I'll be back, and then I'll be here for you, all day, every day."

I wanted to stand up, to scream at him. To tell him I needed him. To tell him our baby needed him. But my pride held me captive.

I forced a brittle smile and nodded. He looked surprised, perhaps expecting a fight. He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Derrick! We need to go!" Charlotte's shrill voice cut through the air.

He slowly tore his gaze from mine, a look of unbearable conflict on his face. He turned to leave, but then, inexplicably, he rushed back.

He pulled me into a fierce hug, his arms crushing me against his chest. His voice was frantic, more uncertain than I'd ever heard it.

"I'm not going, Ava," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I'm staying. I'll send my beta with Charlotte. I'll stay here and take care of you."

My heart pounded, a frantic drum against my ribs. A foolish, dangerous hope surged through me. He was choosing me. He was choosing us.

But then, the cold, hard truth slammed into me. He didn't deserve my pity. He didn't deserve my love.

"No, Derrick," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "Go with her. If anything happens to her child, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

My true reason, selfish and cold, remained unspoken. I couldn't bear the thought of him blaming me, of that lingering resentment turning to hatred.

He slowly released me, his eyes searching mine for an explanation. I gave him none. He turned and walked towards Charlotte.

As he was about to get into the car, one of the maids, an older woman who had always been kind to me, called out to him.

"Alpha Derrick, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Let Ava move back into her old room. This guesthouse is damp, it's not good for her or the baby."

Before Derrick could answer, Charlotte leaned out of the car window, her voice sharp and petulant.

"No! She's not moving back," she snapped. "That room is mine now. I'll be back soon, and I'll need it."

"It's alright, Derrick," I said, my voice flat. "I don't need to move."

A warm, relieved smile instantly spread across his face. He actually looked grateful.

"Thank you, Ava," he said, his voice soft. "I promise, when I get back, I'll buy us a brand new house. A real home, just for us. I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through."

He got into the car, and with a final wave, drove away with Charlotte, leaving me utterly alone.