Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

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117 Chapter 117

Seraphina’s POV 1

The soft beeping of machines had becthe soundtrack to my new existence. Three weeks in this sterile

white room, three weeks of watching the spatch of afternoon sunlight creep across the floor, marking

t| couldn't get back.

Three weeks of being utterly, completely alone in my own head.

| shifted carefully in the hospital bed, wincing as my ribs protested the movement. The doctors said | was

healing remarkably well for a human. That phrase haunted me.

*For a human. *

Because that’s what | was now. Just human. Weak, fragile, ordinary.

The silence in my mind was deafening. No Ayla’s warm presence. No pack connection humming in the

background like a constant heartbeat. No enhanced senses bringinginformation about the world around

Just... nothing.

| pressed my palm against my stomach, feeling the slight curve where our baby was growing. At least you're

okay, little one. At least you survived what | couldn't protect you from.

The baby was the only good thing to cout of this nightmare. Dr. Morgan checked daily, and every time

she smiled and said the sthing: “Strong heartbeat. Growing perfectly. Your little miracle.”

My miracle. The one bright spot in this sea of loss.

“Knock knock!” Adrian’s voice preceded him through the door, followed by the sound of small sneakers

squeaking against the linoleum floor. “Mama, | brought you something!”

My heart clenched with love and pain as my five-year-old son bounded into the room, clutching a slightly

wilted dandelion in his tiny fist. His silver-blue eyes-so much like his father’s-sparkled with excitement.

“I picked it from the garden!” He climbed carefully onto the chair beside my bed. “It's yellow like sunshine to

make you feel better”

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.” | reached out to stroke his soft brown hair, my movements still careful and

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deliberate. Everything hurt, but seeing Adrian’s smile was worth any amount of pain. “Thank you for thinking

of Mama.”

“Are you gonna chsoon?” His bottom lip wobbled slightly. “I miss having bedtstories. Daddy

tries, but he does the voices all wrong.”

“Soon, baby,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Mama just needs to get a little stronger first.”

“You're growing my baby brother or sister in your tummy.” His eyes went wide with wonder. “Is that why

you're so tired?”

“That's part of it.” | smoothed his hair again, memorizing the silky texture. “The baby is growing nice and

strong, just like you did.”

“Can | feel?” Adrian's hand hovered over my stomach with the careful reverence only children possessed.

| guided his small palm to the slight curve, even though it was too early for movement. “Right there. That's

your little brother or sister.”

Tears threatened to spill as | watched him. How was | supposed to raise him without Ayla’s strength? How

could | protect him when | couldn’t even protect myself?

“Adrian.” Damien’s voice from the doorway madelook up. He leaned against the frame, watching us. “Time

to let Mama rest.”

“But | just got here!” Adrian protested.

“You can cback tomorrow,” Damien promised, moving into the room. He was dressed in one of his perfectly

tailored business suits, looking every inch the powerful Alpha he was. It made the distance between

us feel even wider. “Mama needs to sleep so she can get better.”

Adrian sighed tically but climbed down from the chair. He gavea careful hug, mindful of my

bandages, and whispered in my ear: “I love you, Mama, Chsoon, okay?”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Damien walked Adrian to the door, speaking quietly to whoever was waiting in the hallway-probably Ophelia

or Lucas.

He looked tired. His usually perfect appearance was slightly rumpled, and there were new lines around his

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eyes that hadn't been there a month ago. The guilt in his expression deepened every the looked at me,

and | knew why.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, settling into the chair Adrian had vacated.

“Better,” | lied automatically. “Dr. Morgan says | might be able to go hnext week.”

Something flickered across his face-relief mixed with what looked like panic. “That's... that’s good news. But

you shouldn't rush it. Take all the tyou need to heal properly.”

And then he was gone, leavingalone with the beeping machines and the crushing weight of everything I'd

lost.

| closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but rest wouldn't come. Instead, | listened to the sounds of the hospital

around me. Nurses’ soft-soled shoes in the hallway. Muffled conversations at the nurses’ station. The distant

ding of elevator doors.

And then, Damien's voice, farther than it should have been.

“Claire? Yeah, | know it’s late.”

| opened my eyes, realizing he must be just outside my room, probably thinking | was asleep. His voice

carried through the partially open door clearly enough for my merely-human hearing to catch.

“We need to start the hiring process for a new assistant,” he was saying. “Someone with experience in pack

business management.”

My heart stopped.

A new assistant. To replace me.

“I know it seems premature,” Damien continued, “but we can’t keep operating short-staffed. And Seraphina...

she needs to focus on her recovery right now. This stress isn’t good for her or the baby.”

Claire’s response was too quiet forto hear, but Damien’s next words hitlike a slap.

“No, she can’t cback to that role. Even when she’s physically healed, she’s... different now. Vulnerable, |

can’t put her in a position where she might be targeted again.”

*Because I'm human now. Because I'm weak.*

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The words shattered something insidethat | hadn't even realized was still intact. Whatever foolish hope

I'd been clinging to-that maybe things could go back to normal, that maybe we could find a way through this

together-crumbled to dust.

He was moving on. Moving past me. Finding a replacement.

“Emailthe candidates’ resumes tomorrow,” Damien said. “Schedule interviews for next week. | want

someone in place before... before she comes home.”