The doctor smiled at Ella and Sinclair, pleased to deliver good news. "Your baby is just fine," he said, watching the tension leave the expectant parents. "As I said, some spotting is perfectly normal in early pregnancy, and everything else looks perfect."

Sinclair pulled Ella close, kissing her hair as she fought back tears of joy. The doctor allowed them a moment before continuing, "I am concerned about Ella's blood pressure, however. It was likely due to the stress of the emergency, but it's something we must monitor closely. Persistent hypertension could develop into preeclampsia, which can be dangerous for both mother and child."

Ella was still basking in the good news, but Sinclair was immediately alert. "So what do we do? Just monitor it?"

"I'll send you home with a portable blood pressure monitor. Check her pressure daily until it stabilizes, then weekly until delivery. If it remains high, see your OB/GYN immediately. Most importantly, Ella, you need to reduce stress," the doctor advised.

Ella nodded, though she doubted this was entirely achievable. She was a first-time mother, grappling with a false identity, a supernatural society, and a political campaign. Stress felt inevitable.

"Thank you, Doctor," Sinclair said. "We'll do everything to keep her relaxed." Ella wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Bed rest, for instance, wouldn't go over well. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Sinclair watching her. "Won't we, little mate?" he added pointedly.

This snapped Ella back to the present. She looked at Sinclair with wide eyes, thinking—not for the first time—that she needed to pay closer attention to the powerful Alpha if she wanted to survive this pregnancy. "Yes, Dominic."

That afternoon, Sinclair struggled to focus on work. All he could think about was Ella and the baby, and he was tempted to leave early. He'd already missed his morning meetings, and despite Ella's encouragement to continue as usual, his mind was elsewhere.

He was about to leave when a knock sounded. "Come in."

The investigator he'd hired to look into Ella and her ex-boyfriend poked his head in. "Alpha, he's here."

Sinclair's attention snapped to the task at hand. Perhaps he could accomplish something today. "Bring him in," he instructed coolly.

When Mike stumbled into the austere office—practically thrown in by Sinclair's guards—he looked around in nervous confusion. Sinclair studied him, battling his wolf's urge to attack. Considering his advantages, it was tempting, but dishonorable. He didn't understand what Ella had ever seen in the man, suspecting Mike's manipulation had forced her into the relationship.

Ella, Sinclair knew, had a love-starved upbringing. He imagined her falling for the first person to show her attention, believing she deserved his mistreatment. He thought of Mike calling her a bad kisser, wondering about the extent of his insults—did she think she was inadequate in bed, at homemaking, or everyday life? How worthless had he made her feel?

It infuriated Sinclair to imagine anyone mistreating Ella. He growled involuntarily, and Mike froze, staring in surprise and fear. "What is this? Why did you bring me here?"

"This is your just desserts," Sinclair answered coldly, rising. "Do you know who I am, Mike?"

"You're that billionaire on TV," Mike countered, with a barely suppressed sneer.

"That's right," Sinclair smirked. "I'm also Ella's fiancé." He lied, using a similar story to the one they'd told the shifters. "We're expecting a child, despite your efforts to make her infertile."

The blood drained from Mike's face. He stood frozen, then shook his head in disbelief. "You're lying. We just broke up, and she would never cheat—the stupid bitch was too spineless—"

Sinclair's wolf snarled a fierce warning, and Mike practically wet himself, sensing the danger before him. "Shut your fucking mouth before you say another word against her," Sinclair thundered.

Mike backed towards the door, trembling. "I… wh-what are you?"

"Not anyone you want to cross," Sinclair informed him, advancing like a predator stalking prey.

"This is crazy! I haven't done anything wrong."

"Don't lie to me!" Sinclair barked. "I know everything, you leech. You took advantage of that angel, knowing her vulnerability. You ruined her life—wrecked her finances, poisoned her body, betrayed her, and made her think she deserved nothing better!" Sinclair grabbed Mike's neck, forcing him against the door. "You are a spineless, despicable weasel, and if you want to keep your head, you'll make things right!"

"What?!" Mike choked, clawing at Sinclair's grip. "How?"

"You'll go to the police and sign a full confession. Ella filed a report, and you'll turn yourself in and repay every cent you stole," Sinclair commanded. "I don't care if it takes a hundred years, you'll make it right."

"But I don't have that kind of money!" Mike protested, near hysterical as Sinclair lifted him off the ground. Sinclair briefly worried about making a habit of this, but Mike, like Roger, deserved it.

"Then you can rot in prison!" Sinclair answered ferociously. "It's that or I gut you right here."

"No!" Mike shouted. "Please, don't hurt me! I'll do whatever you say!"

"Good," Sinclair rumbled. "Because if you don't, I will make you wish you'd never been born."

A while later, a shrill ringtone filled Ella's suite. She answered, seeing the local police station's number. "Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Reina?" a male voice replied.

"Speaking," she confirmed.

"Moon Valley Police Department. We're calling regarding a report you filed last week," the officer said.

"Yes?" Ella asked, sitting up straighter. The officers hadn't been optimistic, so she was surprised.

"Your ex-boyfriend turned himself in this afternoon," the officer said. "He doesn't have the funds to repay the debts he accumulated in your name"