The Alpha Who Never Loved Me (Serena and Kieran) novel Chapter 99

Chapter 99

Serena

A paternity test.

My wrists burned against the fabric; my pulse hammered behind my eyes, in my throat, in the hollow of my chest. If that doctor came, if he drew blood, if the results confirmed what I have been hiding, every wall I built would collapse.

He would know.

He would have proof that this child was his, proof that would chain me to this marriage forever.

I could not let him find out.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Kieran reached for it while I couldn’t even move. He

looked at the screen, turned it toward me.

Jenna.

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My heartbeat shot to my throat Jonna know the baby

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was Kieran’s. If she said the wrong thing on this call, everything was over.

He held the phone between us. “I’m going to answer this call, put it on speaker, hold it to your ear. You talk to Jenna. Act normal.”

My blood boiled. He tied me to a bed, locked me in a room, now he wanted me to perform for him.

“Why would I do that?”

He gave a casual shrug. “It’s up to you if you want to leave this place or not.”

I looked at him; his face gave nothing away. He could be lying.

But Jenna was on the other end of that phone, Jenna who might say something I needed to hear before Kieran did.

“Fine,” I said.

He answered the call, pressed the speaker button, held the phone near my face.

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“Serena?” Jenna’s voice poured through the speaker.

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“How are you doing? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I kept my voice steady, light, normal. “I’m at home.”

“Listen, I need to tell you something.” Jenna’s voice dropped. “Kieran came to me, asked me questions about your pregnancy. He wanted to know who the father was.”

I raised my eyes; Kieran stood over me, his gaze locked on my face, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood expectantly waiting for our conversation.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“I told him I saw you with Misha at the hotel when I came to visit.” Jenna’s voice sounded very guilty. “I’m sorry, Serena. He was so scary, I didn’t know what to say.”

Relief crashed through me. She had lied to Kieran.

If I played along, if I confirmed what Jenna told him, the paternity test would become a weapon in my hands instead of his. He would expect the results to name Misha; when they did not, I would be long gone.

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But Misha had nothing to do with this. Dragging him into

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this was a grenade thrown into someone else’s house. I would explain to him later; I would call, tell him everything, beg him to forgive me for borrowing his

name.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “But I didn’t want him to know yet that the child belonged to Misha.” Kieran’s eyes bore into mine.

“Oh God.” Jenna’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry I exposed the secret. He was terrifying, I didn’t—”

My chest swelled; Jenna was playing along. Good girl.

“It’s okay, Jenna,” I said; my voice carried the warmth of gratitude I could not explain. “It’s okay.”

Kieran pulled the phone away, ended the call. His jaw was locked so tight the vein in his temple pressed visible against his skin; his nostrils flared, his chest heaved, his hand crushed my phone in his grip.

“You’re pretending,” he said; his voice was low, barely controlled.

The anger on his face was a small victory bloomed in my

chest. He was rattled. Good.

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“I’m not pretending. Misha is the father.”

“You’re lying.” He set the phone on the nightstand. “I know you’re lying. The doctor will arrive, the test will be done, I will find out.” He straightened. “You don’t have to worry yourself much longer.”

He walked out of the room; the door shut, the lock

clicked.

Hours passed.

The ceiling stared back at me; my back ached from the position, my bladder pressed full against my belly. Aina sat quiet inside me, low, exhausted, defeated.

The door opened.

Kieran walked in with a man behind him; the man carried

a small case, wore a white coat.

My stomach dropped; the fear I kept at bay for hours rushed back in. The lie about Misha bought me time, but time was all it bought. The blood would not lie. The blood would scream Kieran’s name from every cell, every marker, every strand of evidence the lab pulled from the 4

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vial.

The doctor opened the case on the nightstand, pulled out vials, a needle, gloves. He approached the bed; his eyes moved to my wrists, then to Kieran, then back to my arm.

“I need to draw blood,” the doctor said.

I kept my body still; my muscles locked, my jaw clenched, my breathing steady through my nose. I would not flinch, would not tremble, would not give Kieran the satisfaction of watching me break.

The needle slid into the crook of my arm; I felt the pinch, the pull, the warmth of my blood leaving my body. Each drop that filled the vial was a countdown; the results would come back, the truth would surface, the lie would collapse. My eyes burned but I did not cry.

The doctor drew from Kieran next. Two vials, labeled,

sealed, placed back in the case.

“This will be treated as a priority,” the doctor said to Kieran. “I’ll have the results processed immediately.

You’ll hear from me soon.”

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“Thank you,” Kieran said.

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The doctor left. The front door closed downstairs; the sound of his car engine faded into silence.

Kieran stood at the foot of the bed, looked down at me.

“Did you think I was going to call Misha in?” he asked. “So the two of you could plot a way to lie to me together?”

“What is your problem?” My voice cracked; the hoarseness scraped against my throat. “Haven’t you done enough? You betrayed me in our marriage, did terrible things to me, brought another woman into our home. You’re still here, still forcing yourself on me, still—”

“I’m not forcing myself.” His voice was calm; the calm was worse than shouting. “We are married. We belong together.”

“We are supposed to be divorced.”

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