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.

Ava Clements POV:

The moment Derrick's car disappeared down the long driveway, I sprang into action. Despite the lingering dizziness and the profound weariness in my bones, I started packing. Six hours. That's how long I had until my mother and stepfather arrived to whisk me away from this gilded prison.

I glanced out the window at the security guards patrolling the estate. Derrick's idea of protection was, in reality, surveillance. But they wouldn't stop what was coming.

My fingers fumbled with my phone, dialing my mother's number.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice strained. "They're everywhere. More guards than usual. I don't know how Bronson is going to get me out."

A deep, resonant male voice answered, not my mother's. My stepfather. Bronson Mays. His voice, though unfamiliar, carried an undeniable weight of authority.

"Don't you worry about that, Ava," he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Those guards are nothing. You are my daughter now, and no one, I repeat, no one will ever lay a hand on you again. I promise you that."

His words, though I'd never met him, ignited a spark of hope deep within me, a fire I thought had long been extinguished. My mother, Annabel, had found a powerful protector, and now, so had I. We weren't alone anymore.

I hung up, a newfound resolve hardening my gaze. But the moment the call ended, chaos erupted. Charlotte's mother and Derrick's parents burst into my room, their faces contorted with rage.

Their eyes raked over me, contemptuous and disdainful. Derrick's mother, Katharine, hissed, a venomous sound that sent a chill down my spine.

"You manipulative little whore!" she spat, her voice dripping with scorn. "How dare you deceive my son, claiming you carry his child? You're nothing but a gold-digger, a common tramp! How dare you still be living under our roof?"

Charlotte's mother chimed in, her voice shrill. "She's a scandal, Katharine! A disgrace! You need to expose her! Let everyone know the truth about her illegitimate child!"

Katharine lunged forward, her hand connecting sharply with my cheek. The force of the blow sent my head snapping back, a searing pain blooming across my face.

A maid, the kind one from earlier, rushed forward, placing herself between me and Katharine. "No, madam, please! Ava is weak, she's pregnant! Alpha Derrick instructed us to take good care of her!"

Katharine roughly shoved the maid aside, sending her sprawling to the floor. "Derrick is a fool! Blinded by this low-class omega! She's poisoned his mind!"

Derrick's father, the pack Alpha, stepped forward. His presence was formidable, oozing power and disdain.

"You should consider yourself honored, Omega," he boomed, his voice resonating with patriarchal authority. "To even be considered as my son's mate, given your lack of lineage, was a privilege. But you have proven yourself ungrateful, a common hussy carrying a bastard child."

He pointed a finger at me, his eyes cold and unwavering. "Let it be known, your child will never be accepted into the Bradford family. Take her, guards. Take her to the hospital. And make sure that illegitimate spawn is aborted. Then, cast her out of this pack forever."

Terror, cold and absolute, gripped me. My baby. My precious baby. I struggled, my arms flailing, trying to break free from the guards who seized me.

"No! My baby!" I screamed, a raw, primal sound torn from my throat. "Please, no!"

The maid, scrambling back to her feet, tackled one of the guards, creating a momentary diversion. "Alpha, please! She's seven months pregnant! She's too weak! An abortion at this stage could kill her!"

"It's Derrick's baby!" I screamed, my voice hoarse, tears streaming down my face. "Not a bastard! Charlotte's baby is the bastard! Hers!"

Another stinging slap across my face. Katharine.

"Lies! All lies!" she shrieked. "Derrick himself admitted Charlotte's child is his! You are not only shameless, but a liar!"

I shook my head, despair consuming me. They wouldn't listen. They wouldn't believe. The guards clamped a hand over my mouth, silencing my protests. The world spun, darkness encroaching. I felt a sharp pain, then nothing.

Just as the black swallowed me whole, a voice, deep and commanding, cut through the silence.

"She is my daughter. And you will release her."