Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce! novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Aria’s POV

My feet dragged against the pavement. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up my legs. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the words still echoing in my skull.

*You haven’t even given him an heir yet, have you?*

I used the side door. The one near the kitchen. The servants’ entrance. My hands shook as I locked it behind me. The keys slipped twice before I got them in.

Everything hurt. My feet. My back. My pride.

Serena’s voice wouldn’t stop. It kept playing. Over and over. Like a song stuck on repeat.

I dropped my bag on the floor. Stumbled to the kitchen sink. Gripped the edge until my knuckles went white.

A wave of nausea hit me. I bent over the sink, gagging. Nothing came up. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember.

I turned on the faucet. Splashed cold water on my face. It didn’t help.

My reflection stared back from the darkened window. Hollow eyes. Pale skin. Hair falling out of its bun.

Inside, the house was silent. Lilith must be at Irene’s again. My mother-in-law preferred to keep my daughter there most nights. Said she could provide "proper care" that I couldn’t.

I kicked off my shoes. My uniform reeked of bleach and shame.

Today was the day. Ovulation day. The only day of the month Finn bothered to come home.

He’d walk in. We’d go upstairs. He’d do what needed to be done.

Then he’d leave before morning. Back to Celestia. Back to his real life.

And I’d lie there in the dark. Hoping. Praying. Begging whatever gods existed that this time it would work.

This time I’d give him a son.

This time he’d love me.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out with shaking hands.

A notification from Instagram. Celestia’s latest post.

There she was. Golden hair cascading over bare shoulders. Sapphire eyes sparkling at the camera. And there—in the background—a man’s hand. Finn’s watch. The one I’d given him for our first anniversary.

The caption read: *"Dinner at La Lumière with my favorite person ❤️"*

Two hours ago.

I locked my phone. Dropped it on the counter. Stared at nothing.

The nausea hit again. Stronger. I gripped the counter.

Something felt wrong. Different.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

I ran. Literally ran to the bathroom. My feet slipped on the marble. I caught myself on the doorframe.

The pregnancy tests. Where did I put them?

I tore through the cabinet under the sink. Towels. Cleaning supplies. More of Finn’s expensive cologne that he never wore around me.

There.

A box. Three tests left. I’d bought a pack of five two months ago.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I ripped open the box.

Please. Please. Please.

I couldn’t look. I set the test on the counter. Turned away. Counted.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I turned.

One line. Clear. Pink.

My heart stopped.

The sound of the front door opening made me freeze. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

I remembered the pain. The terror. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth as they rushed me to surgery.

I remembered waking up three days later. Alone. Finn hadn’t even stayed at the hospital.

And now—now I knew why he hadn’t cared.

Because my near-death experience was just a footnote. A minor inconvenience. Something I’d already survived once, so clearly I could do it again.

Not like Celestia. Precious, delicate, *human* Celestia who couldn’t be asked to risk anything.

"I’ll be home tonight," Finn continued, his voice fading as he moved toward the stairs. "I’ll take care of my obligations. But don’t expect me to change my mind about this."

Obligations.

That’s what I was. An obligation. A box to check. A womb to use.

The tears came hot and fast. I pressed my fist against my mouth to muffle the sound.

All these years. All the hope. All the desperate, pathetic attempts to make him love me.

And I’d been nothing but a tool. A disposable incubator who could "handle the risks" that his real love couldn’t.

Artemis howled in my mind. Not in rage. In grief.

*We have to leave,* she whispered. *We have to go.*

I bent down and picked up the test with numb fingers. Two lines. Still there. Still real.

A baby. Another child I’d carry. Another pregnancy that could kill me. And Finn wouldn’t care. He’d made that crystal clear.

I stared at those two pink lines until they blurred into one.

No more.

I was done. Done hoping. Done trying. Done breaking myself into smaller and smaller pieces trying to fit into a space that was never meant for me.

I walked to the kitchen on autopilot. Found a piece of paper. A pen.

My hand shook as I wrote. The words came slow at first, then faster.

*I want a divorce.*