Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The knock on my door came at seven in the morning, sharp and urgent enough to wake me from the first decent sleep I’d had in days.
“Leo, get dressed and come to the living room,” Blake’s voice carried through the door, tight with controlled excitement. “I have news.”
I burrowed deeper into my nest, still groggy from sleep and reluctant to leave the cocoon of soft fabrics that had become my sanctuary.
The nest I’d built in Blake’s guest bed had started as a meager attempt—just blankets and pillows and Dominic’s sweater arranged around me when the nesting urges became too strong to ignore about a week ago.
Of course, Penny had discovered my pathetic nesting attempt within hours. And of course, he’d told Blake.
Which had prompted the alpha to walk through the door that evening carrying two bags of nesting supplies from a fancy omega boutique in Downtown Millcrest. I’d protested at first. I never would have bought such costly materials myself—silk-soft blankets and pillows, 600-thread count sheets, even a body pillow.
“The lady at the store said it’s everything an omega would need,” Blake had said, handing the packages to me with a sheepish grin. “If I missed anything, just let me know.”
Now, curled up in the nest of expensive fabrics, I felt something close to peace for the first time in two weeks.
The only thing missing was Dominic.
I’d seen him just two days ago, though that visit had been vastly different from our first reunion.
Because of what had happened last time—Dominic disobeying protocol and putting his hands all over me instead of just the permitted scenting—there had been two guards this time, both much more watchful and neither falling prey to Blake’s charming attempts to lure them into conversation about sports or weather.
Still, it had been so nice to see him again, to hold his hand across that sterile table.
He’d looked like he’d lost more weight, his cheekbones more pronounced.
The five o’clock shadow covering his jaw made him look feral and dangerous in a way that sent heat shooting through me despite the circumstances.
When he’d leaned in to scent me—carefully, with the guards watching—his expression had shifted to confusion.
“You smell different somehow,” he’d said quietly, silver eyes studying my face with the kind of intensity that made me want to squirm.
“The doctor gave me medicine for nausea,” I’d explained, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “She said it might alter my scent somewhat. Plus, I’m living in Blake’s house.”
Dominic’s growl had been low and possessive. “Yeah, I can smell him on you. The fucker.”
“Hey!” I’d protested, squeezing his hand. “Blake has been great through all this. He’s letting me, and Penny, and Jake stay in his guest rooms, feeding us, helping get you out of here.”
Dominic’s expression had softened slightly. “I know. I’m grateful to him. It’s just… I don’t like smelling another alpha on my mate.”
The memory of that conversation made my chest tight with longing. Soon, I hoped, we wouldn’t have to worry about visiting schedules and guard protocols and being chaperoned like two untrustworthy teenagers.
“Good news or bad news?” I called out, my voice still rough with sleep.
“Hurry and come find out,” Blake replied, something in his tone suggesting I’d really want to hear this particular bit of news.
When I shuffled into Blake’s living room a few minutes later, Penny and Jake were already there. My best friend bounced on his toes with barely contained energy, his scent bright with anticipation as he bustled about the kitchen. Jake sat at the bar, nibbling at a plate of toast and eggs.
“Coffee? Or would you prefer some ginger tea?” Penny asked, gesturing toward Blake’s new coffee machine—a sleek Italian model that looked expensive enough to require its own insurance policy.
Blake had taken our complaints about his pod system seriously, especially after Penny’s dramatic declaration that “real investigators needed real coffee, not the swill this thing produces!” in his best—though inadequate—impersonation of a noir-ish, hard-broiled detective.
“Tea, please,” I said, grateful for Penny’s thoughtfulness. The ginger had been helping with the persistent nausea.
As Penny prepared my tea, Blake pulled a manila folder from his briefcase, his expression carefully controlled. “Katharine got the results an hour ago.”
My heart stuttered. “And?”
“Forgeries. All of them.” Blake’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “We had plenty of evidence to show it wasn’t Dominic’s writing. I’ve got samples of his handwriting dating back to primary school. The expert had no trouble proving the documents were faked.”
Relief flooded through me so suddenly that I had to grip the edge of the table to stay upright. The persistent nausea that had been bothering me for days suddenly intensified, and I pressed my hand against my stomach while trying to process what Blake was telling me.
“Whoa, there,” Blake said, grabbing my arm to steady me. “Sit down.”
I found myself smiling despite everything, imagining a young Dominic carefully writing his name on school assignments, probably with the same determined precision he brought to everything else. What had he been like as a child?
“So Dominic can come home for now?” I managed. “At least until the trial?”
“Better than that.” Blake opened the folder, revealing photographs of documents covered in forensic markings. “Katherine thinks we can get all charges dismissed based on this evidence alone. The prosecution’s entire case is built on documents that we can now prove are fraudulent.”
The mating mark on my neck pulsed with sudden warmth, as if responding to the possibility of reunion. Through the bond, I could feel something that might have been hope—the first positive emotion I’d sensed from Dominic in two weeks.
Penny handed me the steaming cup of ginger tea, the familiar scent helping to settle my roiling stomach slightly.
“There’s more,” Blake continued, his expression shifting to something harder. “My private investigator has been tracking Brian Collins since Dominic’s arrest.”
Jake looked up from his toast and eggs. “Any luck finding him?”
“Brian’s disappeared, but we’ve tracked his financial activity.
” Blake’s tone carried the kind of cold anger I’d never heard from him before.
“He emptied three separate bank accounts two days before Dominic’s arrest. Offshore accounts we didn’t even know existed, all funded by payments from shell companies. ”
“How much money are we talking about?” Penny asked, settling into his chair with his own cup of coffee.
“Enough to live very comfortably for a long time,” Blake said grimly. “Expensive apartment lease paid in advance, luxury car purchased outright, even what looks like travel expenses for international destinations. Brian’s probably living it up somewhere that doesn’t have extradition treaties.”
The scope of Brian’s betrayal hit me like a physical blow. This wasn’t just corporate espionage—this was a carefully planned operation that had been done with the intent to destroy Dominic’s life.
“The investigator managed to get surveillance photos of Brian meeting with known organized crime associates before he disappeared,” Blake continued. “We have him accepting payments, exchanging documents, even coordinating timing. It’s all premeditated conspiracy.”
As Blake spoke, another wave of nausea built in my stomach, stronger than before. The ginger tea wasn’t helping anymore, and I could feel cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.
“Abigail’s been helpful analyzing the financial patterns,” Blake was saying, but his voice seemed to be coming from very far away.
I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Excuse me,” I managed, before rushing toward Blake’s private bathroom.
I barely made it in time, retching into the pristine porcelain while trying to muffle the sound.
My hands shook as I gripped the marble countertop, waiting for the wave to pass.
When it finally did, I splashed cold water on my face and tried to compose myself, but I could see in the mirror that I looked pale and shaky.
When I returned to the living room, three pairs of concerned eyes were watching me.
“You need to keep that follow-up appointment with Dr. Westfield,” Penny said with the kind of firm authority I rarely heard from him. He gave me a pointed look, his mouth set in a knowing line. “I’ll go with you.”
I recalled my last visit for the persistent nausea, back when I'd dismissed it as just the bond stress. Now the drugstore pregnancy test sat hidden away in my bathroom drawer. Penny was right. I needed to see Dr. Westfield again, to hear the confirmation from her lips.
“You’re right,” I said, shooting Penny a grateful look. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Blake was already reaching for his phone. “Marcus can drive you. I’ll have him bring the car around immediately.”
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Penny said, already gathering his things. “Try not to solve everything without us.”
“Just focus on keeping Leo healthy,” Blake said, his alpha protectiveness clearly engaged. “Everything else can wait for now.”
An hour later, I was perched on an exam table in Dr. Westfield’s office.
Marcus had dropped us off with instructions to call when we were ready for pickup.
When the nurse called, I’d left Penny in the waiting room.
He was probably flipping absently through a dog-eared magazine, eyes darting up each time the door opened.
The thin hospital gown hung loose across my back, the rough cotton fabric barely meeting at my shoulder blades and exposing my skin to the cool, sterile air of the examination room. I shivered slightly, acutely aware of how vulnerable the open-backed design made me feel.
“Let’s get some blood work done first,” Dr. Westfield said after taking my vitals. “The symptoms you’re describing could have several causes, but we’ll start with the basics.”
She may have been appointed by the court to monitor my health during Dominic’s incarceration, but I liked her. Her warm chamomile scent made me feel calmer. More importantly, I felt I could trust her to give me honest medical advice without judgment.
Thirty minutes later, she returned with results I expected, but hearing her say the words aloud still made my world tilt sideways.
“The pregnancy test is positive,” she said gently. “You’re about five weeks along, which would explain the nausea and fatigue you’ve been experiencing. Male omegas often experience more persistent nausea, especially early on.”
Dr. Westfield sat her clipboard aside. “How are you feeling about this news?”
“Overwhelmed,” I admitted. “Scared. But also… hopeful? I wanted children eventually, but the timing…”
“Is never perfect,” she finished with an understanding smile.
“But I have to tell you—the stress hormones from bond separation can be dangerous for both you and the baby. This pregnancy could significantly strengthen your mate’s case for release, especially given the health implications of prolonged separation.
Your alpha’s continued incarceration poses a direct threat to both your health and the pregnancy. ”
She picked up her clipboard and scribbled on it. “Make sure his attorney is aware of this. I’ll make a note of it in my official report.”
“Actually,” I said. “His attorney thinks the charges will be dismissed entirely tomorrow. There’s proof the evidence against Dominic was forged.”
Dr. Westfield’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful news! The timing couldn’t be better.”
“Is the baby okay, though?” I asked. “With all the stress, I mean?”
“The baby is fine for now, but you need to be very careful about managing your stress levels going forward. The bond separation has elevated your cortisol levels, which isn’t ideal for early pregnancy.
” She looked at me seriously. “You should tell Dominic about the pregnancy as soon as he’s released.
An alpha’s paternal pheromones can actually help stabilize an omega’s stress hormones during pregnancy. ”
“And what about…” I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “I mean, after he comes home, is it safe to…?”
“Physical intimacy isn’t just safe during early pregnancy—it’s actually beneficial for both of you, especially after a stressful separation like this,” Dr. Westfield said gently.
“It can help regulate stress hormones for both alpha and omega. Just listen to your body and communicate with your mate about what feels comfortable.”
The relief was overwhelming. I’d been worrying about so many things, and having medical reassurance felt like a weight lifted from my shoulders.
Dr. Westfield smiled understandingly. “I’ll write you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. If you experience any bleeding or severe cramping, you come to me immediately. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said.
Dr. Westfield left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. My fingers drifted to my belly, tracing across the still-flat surface where a tiny miracle grew.
A baby. Dominic's and mine—a small life we'd created together.
Would he be pleased with the news?
“How’d it go?” Blake asked when Penny and I walked through the penthouse door two hours later.
“Good,” I said honestly. “Dr. Westfield gave me some vitamins.”
“And instructions for activities to destress,” Penny said, his grin unrepentant.
I bit my lip and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The memory of Dr. Westfield's medical clearance for Dominic and me burned fresh in my mind—something I already regretted sharing with my insufferable best friend.
Blake nodded approvingly. “Good. I just hung up with Katherine. We’ve been reviewing what we know about Brian’s financial trail, trying to figure out where he might have gone.”
Jake looked up from his notes. “The shell companies that paid him have connections to organized crime families in several different countries. He could be anywhere.”
“The important thing is that we have enough evidence to clear Dominic, right?” Penny asked, settling back into one of the oversized armchairs. “Everything else is just details for law enforcement to handle.”
“Right,” Blake said, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that had made him successful in corporate warfare. “Let’s focus on tomorrow—getting Dominic home.”
The mating mark on my neck pulsed with warmth that felt like encouragement. I smiled as my fingers drifted to the mark on my neck, tracing the indentations where his teeth had sealed the claim.
Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow, I’m getting you back.