Hiding My Twin Pups From their Alpha Dad
By Vlada Shevaux
Free Chapters
Chapter 1
“If it’s not pregnancy, I’ll divorce him,” Felicia muttered under her breath, her fingers nervously tapping against her thighs as she sat in the crowded hospital reception. The nurse finally called her name, breaking her from her spiraling thoughts. Adjusting her coat, she stood, her legs slightly wobbly as she followed the nurse to the doctor’s office. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Blackthorn,” Dr. Lewis greeted her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to sit. Felicia hesitated, her mind racing. “Good afternoon,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Dr. Lewis picked up a cream-colored envelope from his desk and handed it to her. “Congratulations,” he said, his tone genuine. Felicia blinked, her heart pounding as she tore open the envelope. Her eyes scanned the results, and there it was, in bold letters: Positive. “You’re pregnant,” Dr. Lewis confirmed. “And it looks like you’re expecting twins.” The words felt surreal. Her hands trembled as she placed the paper back on the desk. “Twins?” she repeated, her voice cracking. “Yes. You’ll need to schedule regular checkups moving forward, but for now, you should celebrate. This is wonderful news.” A smile spread across Felicia’s face. For a moment, all her worries faded. She was going to be a mother—something she had longed for in her loveless marriage. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, standing abruptly. She needed to tell Alpha Damien immediately. He had to know. Maybe this would change everything. **** Felicia practically ran into the house, her excitement bubbling over. “Damien! I have something to tell you—” Her words froze in her throat as she stopped in her tracks. There, in the living room, stood a woman sobbing into her husband’s chest. Damien’s arm was wrapped protectively around her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. And then, Felicia saw it—something that shattered her already fragile heart. Damien leaned down and pressed a kiss to the woman’s lips. It wasn’t a fleeting kiss of comfort. It was intimate, tender—something he had never done with her. Her throat tightened, and her hand flew to her chest. The envelope containing her pregnancy results crumpled in her fist. “Damien,” she called out, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. He looked up, startled, but his expression quickly shifted to one of indifference. “Felicia,” he said flatly, his arm still around the woman. “What are you doing here?” Her lips quivered, but she refused to cry. “I live here. What’s going on?” The woman in his arms looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting Felicia’s. She quickly buried her face back into Damien’s chest. “Not now, Felicia,” Damien said, his tone dismissive. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” “Busy?” Felicia echoed, her voice rising. “I can see very well what you’re busy with!” Damien frowned, his patience clearly wearing thin. Felicia clenched her fists, her mind reeling. She had endured so much in this marriage—his emotional distance, his coldness, his refusal to even Mark her as his mate. And now this? She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. “Damien, I need to talk to you.” “Not now,” he replied dismissively, turning his attention back to the woman. “I’m not asking,” she said sharply, surprising even herself. Damien turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “What’s so important that you have to interrupt me right now?” Felicia’s heart raced as she stepped closer. She looked him straight in the eye, her voice firm and unwavering. “I want a divorce.” The room fell silent. Damien stared at her, stunned. The woman in his arms gasped, her tears momentarily forgotten. “What did you just say?” Damien asked, his voice low and dangerous. “You heard me,” Felicia said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “I want a divorce.” She dropped the crumpled envelope on the floor, her excitement from earlier completely extinguished. Whatever hope she had for this marriage was gone. For the first time in years, Felicia felt a strange sense of freedom. She wasn’t going to beg for his love anymore. If he couldn’t value her, she would walk away—for herself and for the twins growing inside her.
Chapter 2
“You want a what?” Damien laughed, the sound cold and mocking as he leaned back in his chair. “A divorce? Are you serious, Felicia?” “Yes, I’m serious!” Felicia shouted, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. The woman walked out and Damien sat on the sofa. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his amused smirk faded into a frown. “You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?” “Stop mocking me!” Felicia cried, her fists clenched. “I’m done, Damien. I can’t do this anymore!” “Can’t do what exactly?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Live in this big house? Enjoy the luxury my name provides? Or is it because I’m not throwing myself at your feet like some lovesick pup?” Her tears fell harder, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’ve lived in this house, Damien, but I’ve never felt at home. I’ve been your wife, but I’ve never felt loved. You’ve treated me like an afterthought, like a—like a tool for your convenience. I deserve more than this!” He tilted his head, studying her as though she were an interesting puzzle. “You’re serious,” he said finally, his voice low. “Yes, I am,” she replied firmly, wiping her tears. Damien’s jaw tightened. “And you think marching in here, demanding a divorce, will solve all your problems?” “It’s a start,” she said, her voice gaining strength. He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.” “I’m tired of being miserable, Damien!” she shouted. “I thought maybe if we had a child—” He shot to his feet, cutting her off. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled, his voice colder than she’d ever heard. “I don’t need a child from you, Felicia. I never have, and I never will.” The words struck her like a physical blow. Her knees felt weak, and she had to grip the back of the chair for support. “You… you don’t mean that,” she whispered. “Oh, but I do,” he said with a bitter laugh. “You thought a baby would fix this? Fix us? There was nothing to fix, Felicia, because there was nothing here to begin with. I don't want to have a child with a wolfless wolf like you.” Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, but she refused to let him see her break. “Fine,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “If that’s how you feel, then sign the divorce papers and let me go.” He arched a brow. “Divorce papers? You came prepared, didn’t you?” Felicia didn’t respond. She turned on her heel and marched upstairs, her legs moving on autopilot as her mind raced. In her bedroom, she pulled open the drawer of her nightstand and retrieved the papers she had secretly prepared weeks ago. When she returned, Damien was still standing in the living room, his arms crossed. His eyes flicked to the documents in her hands, and his lips curled into a smirk. “How long have you been planning this, Felicia?” he asked, his voice taunting. “That doesn’t matter,” she said, thrusting the papers toward him. “Just sign them.” Damien took the papers, flipping through them lazily. “You’ve really thought this through,” he mused. “But you’ve forgotten one thing.” “And what’s that?” He looked up, his eyes piercing hers. “Once I sign this, I’m done. No more second chances. No more begging. If this is what you want, don’t come crying to me later.” “I won’t,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly. He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “You really are pathetic, Felicia.” “Just sign the damn papers, Damien!” she snapped, her voice echoing through the room. “Fine,” he said coldly. Grabbing a pen from the side table, he leaned over the papers and began signing, his strokes deliberate and almost vindictive. When he finished, he straightened and tossed the papers at her feet. “There. You got what you wanted.” Felicia bent down to pick them up, her hands trembling. She hugged the papers to her chest, her vision blurred by tears. “Don’t come crying to me,” Damien repeated, his voice as cold as ice. Felicia didn’t reply. She turned and hurried upstairs, her heart breaking with every step. Once in her room, she locked the door, pressed her back against it, and slid to the floor. The papers were still clutched in her hands, but they felt heavier now, like the weight of all her shattered dreams. As she stared at them through her tears, she whispered to herself, “This is for the best. It has to be.”