Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 152

17:18 Mon, Jun 8

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 152

Violet’s POV:

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The bathroom door swung open behind me, and I caught Lily’s reflection in the mirror, her expression tight with concern as she took in my pallor and the tremor in my hands as I gripped the sink’s edge. I forced myself to straighten, to school my features into something resembling normalcy even though my stomach still churned with residual nausea.

“Vi?” Lily’s voice was soft, careful. “What’s wrong? You’ve been looking off all evening.”

I turned on the cold water, letting it run over my wrists as I drew in careful breaths. “Must be something I

ate earlier. Or maybe I’m coming down with a stomach bug.”

Lily’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, warm and grounding. “You should go home and rest. I’ll tell

everyone you’re not feeling well.”

I wanted to protest, but exhaustion pulled at me with crushing weight. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I need to go.”

After reapplying lipstick with shaking hands, I followed Lily back to the private dining room. The moment

we entered, concern rippled through the group, and I forced warmth into my smile as Lily explained I wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh no,” Sienna said immediately, starting to rise. “Do you need me to come with you?”

“No, stay and celebrate,” I said firmly, giving her a quick hug. “This is your night. I just need to sleep this off.” I made my rounds quickly, offering congratulations and goodbyes.

Three days later, I stood in my bathroom at two in the morning, staring at the three pregnancy tests I’d finally worked up the courage to buy. I’d driven to a pharmacy across town where no one would recognize

me, had hidden the boxes at the bottom of my shopping bag like contraband.

Now the evidence lined my bathroom counter, all three displaying unmistakable double pink lines.

My legs gave out and I sank to the cold tile floor, my back against the bathtub as reality crashed over me in

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Chapter 152

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waves. Pregnant. I was carrying Daemon’s child, conceived in what I’d thought was our final encounter

before the rejection ceremony had severed our bond permanently.

“Oh Moon Goddess,” I whispered, my voice breaking in the empty bathroom. “I’m actually pregnant.”

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My hand moved to rest on my still–flat stomach, and a thousand fears spiraled through my mind. We’d

completed the rejection ritual less than a month ago. What would the Blackwoods think? Would they

assume I was using the baby as leverage, trying to trap Daemon back into a bond we’d both wanted to end?

The thought made nausea rise again. I pressed my palm harder against my abdomen, as if I could protect

the tiny life inside from the complications its existence would create.

“But this is my baby,” I said aloud, my voice gaining strength. “Mine. Not a tool for the Blackwood legacy,

not a replacement for Aurora… mine.”

The decision crystallized with sudden, fierce clarity. I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I would

keep this secret, figure out how to handle it on my own terms, without the weight of Blackwood

expectations or Daemon’s sense of obligation crushing me again.

I gathered the pregnancy tests and buried them deep in the trash, then scrubbed my hands and face with

cold water until my skin felt raw. My phone buzzed with a text from Sienna: “How are you feeling? Better?”

I typed back quickly: “Much better. Must have been a 24–hour thing.”

The lie came easily, smoothed by years of hiding my true feelings behind acceptable explanations. Another

text came through in the group chat with Sienna, Lily, and Jade: “THREE WEEKS until the official bonding

ceremony at Frost territory! You’re all required to attend. No excuses!”

My stomach dropped. Three weeks until I’d have to face Daemon and his family while maintaining this deception, surrounded by werewolves whose enhanced senses might pick up on changes I couldn’t fully

control.

Two weeks passed in a blur of careful deception and exhausting vigilance. The nausea came and went in unpredictable waves, forcing me to keep crackers and ginger tea at my desk, to make excuses about skipping lunch meetings when certain smells became unbearable. At work, my supervisor Patricia assigned me to

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travel to Moonstone Pack for an important partnership negotiation–a trip that would unfortunately overlap

with Sienna’s ceremony by two days.

I’d negotiated to compress the Moonstone meetings into a brutal three–day sprint so I could return in time.

It meant I’d arrive at Frost territory exhausted and running on fumes, but there was no other option.

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