POV: Claire

Jessica didn't stop at sending me to the west terrace.

The moment Noah drifted off for his morning nap under the watchful eye of an older maid named Martha, Jessica cornered me in the hallway outside the first-floor guest bathroom. She held a bucket of scouring powder and a rough scrub brush, blocking my path with a look of pure malice.

"The powder room is disgusting," Jessica said, crossing her arms. "The maids didn't touch the grout this morning. Since you're so eager to earn your keep, get inside and clean it."

"Martha is watching Noah," I said, holding my small bound notebook against my chest. "I need to return to the nursery in twenty minutes to check his fever."

"You'll return when I say you can return." Her eyes dropped to the leather-bound notebook in my hands. "What is that?"

"My observation notes," I replied, tightening my grip. "His food sensitivities, his sleep patterns, and the sensory triggers that upset him."

Jessica snatched the notebook from my fingers before I could pull away.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"Let's see what kind of garbage you're writing," Jessica sneered, flipping through the pages. Her eyes scanned the neat, handwritten charts I had stayed up half the night compiling. "Look at this pathetic nonsense. You think playing the devoted little mother is going to get Nathan into your bed? You're a hired servant."

"Those notes are for Noah's health," I said, stepping toward her. "Give them to me."

"I don't think so." Jessica smirked, turned around, and tossed the notebook straight into the open toilet bowl.

The heavy book hit the standing water with a sickening splash.

Before I could even reach for it, Jessica reached down and slammed her palm onto the silver flush handle. The water surged violently, dragging the splayed pages into the swirling drain. Dark blue ink bled into the water, dissolving hours of careful observations into a soggy, ruined pulp.

"Oops," Jessica said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Clumsy me."

Fury burned like liquid fire behind my ribs. My claws nearly pushed past the beds of my fingernails, my inner wolf snarling with violent intent. I wanted nothing more than to grab her manicured throat and throw her across the marble foyer.

"You did that on purpose," I said, my voice dangerously low.

"Prove it," she whispered, leaning in with a cold, triumphant smile. "Clean up the mess, nanny. If there's a single drop of water on the floor when Nathan gets back, I'll tell him you threw a tantrum and wrecked the guest suite yourself."

She spun around and walked out, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her.

I stood alone in the small, tiled room, my hands shaking with suppressed rage.

It took everything in me not to scream. Every second in this house was a test, a calculated attempt to break my spirit and run me off the estate. But I couldn't run. Noah was upstairs, sleeping under the same roof, carrying the crescent moon birthmark of my stolen child.

I knelt by the porcelain bowl, pulled on the rubber gloves from the counter, and fished the ruined remains of my notebook from the water. The pages fell apart in gray clumps. Tossing the wreckage into the trash bin, I picked up the sponge and began scrubbing the tile, channeling every ounce of my anger into the scouring pad.

Five minutes later, the door handle rattled.

The heavy oak door swung open without warning.

I turned around, expecting Jessica to return with another petty demand.

Instead, Nathan Sterling stood in the doorway.

He had removed his suit jacket, wearing only a crisp white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His presence filled the narrow space instantly, suffocating the air with raw masculine power.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan demanded, his dark eyes sweeping over the bucket, the sponge, and my soaked knees.

I stood up quickly, trying to step back toward the sink, but the guest bathroom was far too compact. In my haste, my heel caught on the edge of the bath rug, sending me off balance.

Nathan moved like a shadow.

His hand shot out, wrapping firmly around my waist before I could hit the tiled floor. He yanked me forward against his chest, catching my weight with effortless strength.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

Our bodies pressed together from chest to thigh, separated by nothing more than thin layers of cotton. The sheer heat radiating from him was intense, setting my skin ablaze through my clothes.

Nathan froze.

His fingers tightened into the fabric of my waist, digging in until I could feel the heat of each individual fingertip. His chest rose and fell against mine, his gaze dropping to my parted lips.

Then, his nostrils flared.

He leaned down an inch, inhaling the faint scent rising from my damp hair and the warm hollow of my collarbone. A spark of pure shock flared in his dark irises.

There was no perfume on my skin. What he was smelling was the hidden, biological signature of a pureblood wolf—the natural scent of crushed winter mint and wild rain that only a true Alpha could detect.

His pupils dilated, turning his irises almost completely black.

"What is that scent?" he muttered, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly rasp.

"Mr. Sterling, let go of me," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

He didn't let go. If anything, the tension between us snapped tighter.

Nathan spun me around and shoved me firmly against the wall, trapping me between the cool marble tiles and the wall of his chest. He planted one broad hand beside my head, leaning in until his face was barely two inches from mine.

His hot breath brushed against my cheek and the sensitive skin beneath my ear, sending a dangerous shiver down my spine.

"Who sent you here, Claire?" he demanded, his voice thick with an intensity that rattled the quiet room.

"Nobody sent me," I breathed, keeping my eyes locked on his. "I applied through the standard agency."

"Don't lie to me," he growled, leaning closer until his jaw nearly brushed my neck. "My son hasn't spoken a full sentence to anyone in three years, but he wouldn't let go of your hand this morning. He fell asleep clutching a thread from your sleeve."

"Noah is a child starved for comfort," I answered, refusing to let my voice shake. "I gave him patience, nothing more."

"And what about this?" Nathan pressed closer, his hips pinning mine against the hard wall, leaving zero space between us. His pulse was racing so hard I could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against my chest. "I have never lost control of my own reactions. Not once in my life. Yet the moment I step into this room with you, my heart feels like it's trying to tear out of my chest."

His gaze locked onto my throat, tracking the frantic flutter of my pulse.

"What kind of game are you playing?" he whispered, his eyes wild and dark with suspicion. "What did you do to my son? And what are you doing to me?"

The wolf bond between us hummed in the tight space, an electric charge that threatened to overpower my rational mind. For a split second, the urge to tell him everything—to scream that Noah was mine, that our blood was calling to each other—nearly broke through my lips.

I bit the inside of my cheek until the sharp tang of copper grounded me.

If I told him now, without a scrap of legal evidence, he would destroy me. He was a ruthless Alpha with billions of dollars and an army of lawyers. He would banish me from the city and take my baby where I could never find him again.

I had to be smarter than my instincts.

I brought both hands up against Nathan's broad chest and shoved him back with all the force I possessed.

The sudden resistance caught him off guard. He stumbled back half a step, his eyes flashing with surprise.

"I am Noah's governess, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice cold, sharp, and steady as I stood tall against the wall. "Not your plaything, and not your enemy. If your heart is racing, that sounds like a personal medical issue, not my fault."

Nathan stared at me, his chest heaving slightly, stunned by the absolute lack of fear in my eyes.

I didn't give him another second to interrogate me. I grabbed the edge of the door, pulled it wide open, and walked straight out into the grand hallway.

My legs were trembling, but my resolve had never been stronger.

I looked toward the grand staircase leading up to the nursery. I would endure Jessica's petty cruelty. I would endure Nathan's suffocating proximity. But I wouldn't leave this lion's den until I got a strand of Noah's hair and sent it for a DNA test.

Once I had that paper in my hand, no one would ever take my son from me again.

POV: Claire

A shrill alarm shattered the quiet of the estate at two in the morning.

I bolted upright in bed, my heart instantly leaping into my throat. Footsteps pounded down the corridor outside my room, followed by the frantic raised voices of the domestic staff and the clatter of medical carts.

Something had happened to Noah.

I threw off the covers, shoved my feet into slippers, and raced into the hallway without grabbing a robe. The lights along the west wing were blazing at full brightness. Two nurses ran past me toward the nursery, their faces pale with panic.

"His temperature is past a hundred and five!" one of them shouted into a walkie-talkie. "The regular antipyretics aren't working. It's an internal blood flare!"

A cold dread gripped my stomach. Wolf blood fever.

It was a dangerous, volatile spike in body temperature that only affected pureblood pups when their latent lineage violently clashed with sickness or emotional distress. If left unchecked, the raging heat could scorch a young pup's nervous system within hours.

I reached the nursery door. The room was total chaos.

The heavy curtains had been ripped open, and the air was stiflingly hot. A heart monitor was beeping with rapid, frantic warnings near the head of the bed. Dr. Evans, the Sterling family’s chief physician, was struggling to hold a syringe while two assistants tried to secure Noah's flailing limbs.

Noah was thrashing on the mattress, his small face flushed bright crimson.

Sweat soaked his unruly brown curls, plastering them to his forehead. His tiny chest heaved as violent shivers wracked his small frame. His little fingernails had lengthened into sharp, translucent claws—an involuntary instinct of a pureblood pup pushed to the brink of survival.

"Hold his shoulders!" Dr. Evans barked, sweat dripping from his chin. "If we don't administer the sedative now, his heart rate is going to breach critical limits!"

"I can't pin him down, Doctor!" a male orderly yelled, grimacing as Noah's claws slashed across the back of his hand, drawing thin lines of blood. "His strength is unbelievable!"

"Get away!" Noah shrieked in a raw, ragged voice that tore straight through my soul. "Don't touch me! Go away!"

He kicked violently, knocking an ice pack and a stainless steel tray to the floor with a loud clang. He was completely out of his mind with pain, his eyes glazed and unfocused, fighting anyone who stepped into his reach.

"Noah, please, sweetheart, calm down!" Jessica cried from near the vanity. She stood several feet back, clutching her silk robe, her hands shaking as she watched the boy thrash. "Nathan, do something! He's going to hurt himself!"

Nathan stood beside the bed, his face like carved granite, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked under the skin. He reached out to grasp Noah's wrists with firm Alpha authority, trying to steady him.

"Noah, look at me," Nathan commanded, his voice low and strained with tension. "Stop fighting. You need the injection."

The moment Nathan's hand clamped down, Noah screamed louder, twisting his body in pure panic. He snapped his teeth toward his father's arm, his small body convulsing against the sheets.

"No! No!" Noah sobbed, tears cutting hot tracks through the sweat on his flushed cheeks. "Claire! Where is Claire? I want Claire!"

The desperation in his cracked voice pierced through the medical monitors and the frantic orders of the doctors.

"I'm here!" I yelled, pushing past the two nurses at the door.

"Wait! Stay back!" Dr. Evans warned, waving his arm. "He is in an uncontrolled frenzy. He could severely injure you!"

I ignored the doctor entirely. I didn't care about the claws or the danger. The biological bond pulling at my chest was screaming, urging me forward with an intensity that drowned out every ounce of caution.

I rushed directly to the bedside.

"Noah, look at me," I said, dropping to my knees beside the mattress.

The boy heard my voice. His frantic thrashing stopped for a split second, his glazed eyes rolling toward me through the haze of fever.

"Claire..." he gasped, his tiny chest heaving.

Without a second thought, I slid my arms beneath his scorching little body and lifted him off the soaked sheets. I pulled him firmly against my chest, wrapping my arms around his trembling shoulders and tucking his head under my chin.

The heat coming from his skin was staggering, burning hot enough to seep through my thin nightshirt.

"Claire, let the doctors handle him," Nathan said, taking a step toward us, his hand hovering near my shoulder. "You're going to get hurt."

"Back away," I snapped, looking up at Nathan with fierce, unyielding protectiveness. "All of you, back away right now! You're crowding him and suffocating him!"

Nathan paused, his dark eyes widening slightly at the raw defiance in my voice. No one ever spoke to him like that, but in this moment, the Alpha in front of me was secondary. Only my son mattered.

I turned all my attention back to the burning boy in my arms.

I closed my eyes and let my inner wolf release its soothing aura, projecting a wave of cool, calming energy into the tight space between us. The natural scent of crushed winter mint and crisp mountain rain rose softly from my skin, blanketing Noah in pure, maternal safety.

"I've got you, sweetheart," I whispered into his damp hair, rocking him with steady rhythm. "You're safe now. Take a deep breath for me. Let the fire go."

Noah's small hands gripped the fabric of my shirt, twisting it into tight knots. His trembling fingers dug in, his claws retracting against my skin as the tension drained out of his stiff limbs.

He buried his face into the hollow of my neck, breathing in my scent like a starving child finally given water.

The rapid beeping of the heart monitor began to slow.

One beat at a time, the chaotic tempo leveled out. The crimson flush on Noah's cheeks faded into a soft pink, and the violent tremors that had wracked his body eased into gentle, exhausted shudders.

Dr. Evans stared at the monitor screen in stunned silence, his mouth slightly open. "His core temperature... it's dropping. It's coming down on its own."

The nurses looked at each other in total disbelief.

I tightened my embrace around Noah, resting my cheek against his soft, sweaty curls. My own tears slipped down my face, dripping into his hair as my heart ached with fierce, overwhelming love.

Noah let out a long, heavy breath against my collarbone. His small body went completely slack with exhaustion, resting his entire weight against me.

Then, right as he drifted from fevered agony into deep, peaceful sleep, his tiny lips moved against my skin.

"Mama..." he whispered, his voice faint but unmistakably clear in the quiet room. "Mama..."

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap.

My heart stopped beating.

I froze, tears spilling freely down my cheeks as I pressed my face into his hair, holding him so tightly I could feel the steady, calm rhythm of his pulse against mine. He had never said that word in three years. Not once.

Across the room, the silence was deafening.

Nathan stood frozen by the edge of the bed.

The color had completely drained from his sharp face. His dark eyes were locked on Noah's sleeping figure resting peacefully in my arms, then snapped up to my tear-streaked face with terrifying intensity.

A dark, turbulent storm raged in his gaze.

The raw, primal aura radiating from Nathan flared violently, thick with a deep, suffocating shock that filled the entire room. His son hadn't spoken that sacred word since the woman he knew as his mother passed away three years ago—yet Noah had just spoken it to a governess who had arrived barely two days ago.

Nathan stepped forward, his eyes boring into mine like daggers, burning with an intense, unyielding suspicion that threatened to tear my secret wide open.

"Claire," Nathan said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly rasp that made the medical staff freeze in place. "Who are you really?"