I blinked my eyes open warily, knowing I wasn't home—not in my own bed—solely by the luxurious mattress and bedding surrounding me. The last thing I remembered was being in Cora's office with Dominic Sinclair, who had single-handedly offered to save my future and break my heart in one fell swoop.

I was about to sign away my rights to my baby—my baby, I thought dazedly, pressing a hand to my belly. Am I really pregnant? After all this time?

The idea of giving up my child because life had dealt me yet another ruthless blow made me feel sick to my stomach. I lurched from the bed and raced to the bathroom, my insides roiling and clenching. I made it to the toilet just in time, emptying my stomach into the bowl and dropping to my knees with a groan of misery.

That was all the proof I needed. I really am going to be a mother… but for how long? Thirty seconds? Five minutes? Would Dominic Sinclair even give me the opportunity to hold my baby before ripping it from my arms? Did I want that torture? Yes, I decided instantly. I had to hold my baby, even for a fraction of a second… even if we weren't technically the same species.

That thought sent my head spinning. I had to clench my eyes shut. Werewolves were real. Not only were they real, but I was pregnant with one. Dominic Sinclair, the man I'd mooned over a thousand times, was a creature I'd believed only existed in novels and films. And what was that grumbling noise when I passed out? Why did it feel like I could hear his voice in my head?

It was all too much. I slipped back into the opulent bed, realizing I must be in the Sinclair mansion. There was no other explanation. I'd never been in a room so beautiful, with such expensive furnishings. It all belonged to him. But why had he brought me home? I had my own home. Peeking from under the plush covers, I scanned the room. My eyes landed on a table by the door. There was a vase of flowers and a folded note with my name scrawled on the front. Gingerly rising, I picked up the parchment and opened it, my heart pounding.

Ella,

Please make yourself at home. I'll be at the office until this evening, but as soon as I return we can finish our talk. Ask the servants for anything you require.

Yours,

Dominic

And if I want to go home? I thought defiantly. What then, Mr. Bossy?

The suggestion of a discussion to conclude grated on my nerves. He'd left me with no choice, leveraging my safety, stability, and my child's well-being to force my agreement. I hadn't stood a chance against him. He held all the power; I had nothing. He'd made it clear there was no wiggle room.

Maybe passing out had been my brain's subconscious way of protecting me, giving me time to process everything before signing away my baby. Or perhaps, if not my brain, then whatever higher power created shifters and humans—this entire crazy planet. I'd never considered myself religious, but if magic was real, who knew what else was possible?

Tears welled in my eyes, unlike earlier. These weren't tears of joy or grief, but pure, righteous anger. Cora's words echoed in my head: "It isn't fair." It wasn't fair that I had to lose everything because of others' actions and cruelty. It wasn't fair that Dominic Sinclair held my future ransom when he could fix it with the snap of his fingers. Repaying my debts was a drop in the bucket to him, and I was pregnant with his child. He could easily help me without robbing me of my baby—as if he had no concept of a mother's love.

Before I could change my mind, I gathered myself and slipped out of the bedroom, sneaking through the hallways until I found my way out of the labyrinthine house. Only one servant tried to stop me. I was almost at the front door when a guard stepped in front of me. "Miss, you don't have permission to leave."

I notched my chin up and glared. "Are you going to stop me?"

He looked as though he wanted to. He frowned, eyeing me closely. I could almost see his thoughts. He had orders not to let me leave, but he also knew I was pregnant with his boss's precious heir. He couldn't risk roughing me up if I fought back.

I tested his resolve, storming past him without another word. Arriving home a short while later, I went straight to my computer, opening my internet browser and typing in "Dominic Sinclair." He might have fancy investigators, but I wasn't a simpleton. I could research as well as anyone.

At first, I found only fawning business articles about his genius intellect and cunning as a negotiator and investor. Everyone seemed to have fallen in love with him. Never mind the silver spoon; they made him sound completely self-made. The articles lamented his difficult childhood without a mother, detailing how deeply this affected him. They portrayed a single-parent upbringing as the worst possible childhood.

After reading the financial analyses and rave reviews, I dug deeper, looking into his philanthropic record and secret identity. I was mildly dismayed to find all his charitable efforts were completely legitimate. He actually did donate half his revenue to those in need (of course, half a colossal fortune is still a fortune). The internet was chock-full of reports and speeches, goodwill efforts to better mankind.

Things were less clear when I tried digging into his true status as a werewolf. My searches initially yielded little more than Illuminati conspiracy theories and nonsense. Keeping an entire species secret required discretion. I realized there might be a dark web for werewolves, just like for illicit activities.

It took most of the afternoon, but I eventually found a way to access the dark web. I dove deep into the annals of werewolf society. I found a very different image of the perfect businessman touted in the human media. (Don't even get me started on how bizarre it was to discover that a sprawling werewolf society thrived in the shadows of my own.)

Apparently, Dominic Sinclair wasn't just any werewolf; he was the Alpha of the Moon Valley pack and the prospective King of the entire continent. No wonder he'd been vague and guarded when I'd asked about ruling monarchs! He was poised to become the next King, if he could pull off his upcoming campaign.

There weren't many contenders, but Sinclair had been undermined by his family situation. The last king had died without an heir, leaving werewolf society with a dangerous power vacuum. They needed to select a new king. No one wanted to repeat the cycle with another childless king, and Sinclair's inability to produce an heir was only half the problem. He also didn't have a mate, or Luna—not anymore, at least.

I read until my eyes grew sore, learning that Sinclair had once been married to a she-wolf who left him when he couldn't give her a child—despite being fated mates (another concept I couldn't grasp). No wonder he'd been so intense about finally having an heir. I'd thought he was a domineering jerk concerned about his business legacy, not that the future of his entire society depended on it. The articles made it clear werewolves would be in serious trouble if he didn't take the throne. A few of his competitors were power-mad and unhinged, doing their best to discredit him.

Finally finishing, I sat back, dragging a hand over my face, trying to process everything. Sinclair needed an heir, a Luna, and he knew how difficult it was for a child to grow up without a mother. Despite his cunning, I knew his weaknesses. If I played my cards right, I might be able to convince the terrifying Alpha to let me stay after the baby was born. I could prove how crucial it was for a child to be with its mother—I could give us all a chance.

Even as I thought these optimistic words, a knock sounded on the door. Somehow, I knew it was Dominic Sinclair before I could get up. Taking a deep breath, I strode across the room and opened the door, revealing one very large, very angry werewolf.