My Alpha Chose His Bastard Over Our Pup

The scent hit me like a physical blow.

I stood frozen in the marble lobby of Silvercrest Pack's corporate headquarters, my nostrils flaring as I processed what I was smelling. Vanilla and rose—a sickeningly sweet combination that I knew all too well. Victoria's signature fragrance.

But that was impossible. This morning, I had personally scent-marked Ryker with cedar and mint before he left for his meetings. I remembered the way his skin had warmed under my touch, how he'd kissed my forehead absently while checking his phone. Now, five hours later, he reeked of another woman.

My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, a low growl building in my chest that I fought to suppress. Not here. Not in front of the pack employees who were already whispering about their Alpha's wife standing statue-still in the lobby like some kind of madwoman.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" The receptionist's voice seemed to come from underwater. "Are you alright?"

I forced my lips into what I hoped resembled a smile. "Fine. Just waiting for my husband."

But I wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine.

The elevator doors chimed, and Ryker emerged, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his usually pristine suit wrinkled in a way that spoke of... activities. His gray eyes met mine across the lobby, and for a split second, I saw something flicker there. Guilt? Annoyance? It was gone before I could be sure.

"Serena." His voice was carefully neutral as he approached. "What are you doing here?"

The scent grew stronger as he neared, that cloying vanilla-rose mixture that made my stomach turn. I wanted to step back, to put distance between us, but my feet seemed rooted to the marble floor.

"I brought the Hartwell contracts for your signature." The lie came easily. In truth, I'd come because something had felt wrong all day—a nagging intuition that had driven me from our penthouse to seek him out. Now I knew why.

Memories crashed over me like a riptide, pulling me back five years to when I'd first arrived at Silvercrest as Ryker's bride. An orphan with no pack, no family, no bloodline worth mentioning. His mother had made it clear from day one that I was beneath them, that I was lucky her son had chosen me at all.

"She's not even from a notable pack," Luna Margaret had whispered to her friends at our mating ceremony, loud enough for me to hear. "No breeding, no connections. I don't know what Ryker sees in her."

What he'd seen, apparently, was someone malleable. Someone who would smile and nod while he built his empire on my back. Because while Ryker played Alpha, I was the one who'd transformed Silvercrest from a debt-ridden pack into a billion-dollar corporation. Every late night, every brutal negotiation, every sacrifice—that had been me.

And through it all, I'd endured the whispers about my "weak wolf" every time I miscarried. Three times in five years, three times his mother had looked at me with that mixture of pity and disgust.

"Maybe if she were stronger," Margaret had said after the last loss, not bothering to lower her voice. "A proper Luna would have given us heirs by now."

But I'd persevered. I'd thought we were building something together, that the struggles would make us stronger. How naive I'd been.

"The contracts could have waited until tonight," Ryker said, his hand moving to guide me toward the exit. The casual touch sent another wave of that foreign scent washing over me, and I jerked away as if burned.

His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "You smell like her, Ryker."

For a moment, his face went completely blank. Then that familiar mask of irritation slipped into place—the same expression he wore when I asked about pack finances or questioned his decisions.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Victoria's perfume. Vanilla and rose." I kept my voice low, aware of the curious glances from passing employees. "The same scent you've been trying to wash off for months."

His jaw tightened. "You're being paranoid."

"Am I?" I stepped closer, my wolf pushing against my control. "Because two years ago, you told me she was gone. Transferred to the Portland branch. But she never showed up there, did she?"

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire. In the background, I could hear the soft murmur of conversation, the click of heels on marble, the normal sounds of a thriving business. Our business. The empire I'd built while he played at being Alpha.

"Let's go home," he said finally, his voice carrying that Alpha command that usually made pack members submit without question.

But I wasn't just any pack member. I was his mate, his equal, even if he'd forgotten that somewhere along the way.

"Not until you answer me. Where is Victoria?"

Ryker's control finally snapped. The mask fell away, revealing something cold and distant that made my blood freeze.

"Fine. You want the truth?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She's in the penthouse on Fifth Street. The one with the view of the park. Has been for two years."

The words hit me like physical blows. A penthouse. He'd set up his mistress in a penthouse while I'd been killing myself to build his pack's fortune.

"She's..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"She's everything you're not," he said, and there was almost relief in his voice now that the pretense was over. "Warm. Laughing. Like sunshine instead of the constant storm cloud you've become."

My wolf howled inside me, a sound of pure anguish that I barely managed to keep from escaping my throat. Storm cloud. Is that what five years of sacrifice had made me in his eyes?

"Ryker—"

His phone buzzed, cutting me off. He glanced at the screen, and I saw his expression shift, softening in a way it hadn't for me in months. When he answered, his voice was gentle, tender.

"Hey, sweetheart. Daddy's still at work, but I'll be there soon."

Daddy.

The world tilted sideways. Through the phone's speaker, I heard it—a child's voice, bright and innocent.

"Daddy, Mommy says you're bringing ice cream!"

"Of course I am. Chocolate chip, just like we talked about."

I stared at him, my mouth moving soundlessly. A child. Victoria hadn't just been his mistress—she'd given him what I couldn't. The heir his mother had demanded, the legacy I'd failed to provide.

Ryker's eyes met mine over the phone, and for the first time, I saw genuine panic there. The secret was out, and there was no taking it back.

"I have to go," he said into the phone, his voice strained. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

He ended the call and stood there, his hand still gripping the phone like a lifeline. Around us, the lobby continued its normal rhythm, oblivious to the fact that my entire world had just shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

"Serena—"

But I was already turning away, my legs moving on autopilot toward the exit. Behind me, I heard him call my name again, heard his footsteps on the marble as he started to follow.

Then the sound stopped, and I knew without looking back that he'd made his choice. The same choice he'd been making for two years.

He was going to her. To them.

And I was going home to an empty penthouse that suddenly felt like a mausoleum for everything I'd thought we'd built together.