Chapter Thirty-Three
Danae
The silence of my room is broken by Leila’s laughter. It’s so infectious I find myself chuckling just at the sound. Her voice is as bright and lively as I’ve ever heard it, and it warms my heart deeply to feel how genuinely excited she is for me. It literally radiates out of each word she speaks as it crackles through the phone.
I’m stretched out on my bed, staring at the ceiling, letting her words wash over me.
“I still can’t believe it, Danae,” she says, her tone filled with a teenage-like excitement. “You’re getting married! Like, the fairy tale wedding you always dreamed of. It’s actually happening!”
My grin is so wide it strains my cheeks, the corners of my mouth tugging upward uncontrollably. “I know, Leila. I still feel like I’m dreaming. Two weeks from now…“I’ll have three men I’d call husbands.”
“Nah,” she teases. “You’ll always be my Danae first.”
“Always,” I say, and the short word carries more significance than it conveys. My mind immediately clings to a deep gratitude, for Leila, for our friendship. I’m beyond grateful that I’m able to share this moment with her, the one friend I’ve had all my life who has stood with me and defended me through everything I’ve ever endured.
“I can’t wait to see how you’ll look in your wedding dress,” her voice comes through again, taking an extra edge of excitement.
I laugh softly, warmth bubbling in my chest. “I just hope I look as good as you did on your wedding. You were so perfect that day, like something out of a dream.”
“Girl, please.” Her tone turns mock serious. “I know for sure you’ll be stunning. And, unlike me, you won’t have to worry about squeezing a baby bump into the dress. It’s going to fit you like a glove.”
Baby bump.
She says it lightly, the word merely passing through in the mix of everything else she said, but it takes root in my head instantly, making me self-conscious.
I did take a painkiller for a little headache two days ago. Plus, I’ve been eating a lot more than usual. I typically only eat meals, but in the last few days, I’ve found myself snacking, so much so that I’ve even been going to the kitchen to get some snacks myself.
Then there’s the fact that I haven’t exactly been the most careful person lately. Hell, neither have any of the guys. Flashbacks of the looks on their faces as they knotted me make my inner things flinch, but beyond the spark of need the thought jolts within me, there’s another thought. A more serious one.
We haven’t been using any protection.
I sit upright, the blood draining from my face. “Uh, Leila, I’ll call you back in a sec, okay?”
“What? Why?” Her voice is laced with curiosity.
“I just…I need to check something. I’ll call you later.”
I hang up before she can ask anything else, my hands trembling slightly.
I need to know, and I need to know now.
There’s only one way to know.
I stride out of my room and call for one of the maids. She steps towards me in a heartbeat. “Can you get me a pregnancy test? Please. Quickly.”
The maid looks at me, startled, but she nods and rushes off. Each second she’s gone feels like an eternity.
When she returns, she hands me the kit without a word, her eyes curious but polite. I mutter a quick “thank you” and retreat to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
The test feels like it takes forever. I sit on the edge of the tub, staring at the little stick on the counter. My heart pounds, each beat a deafening drum in my ears.
Then it appears.
Two lines.
Pregnant.
“Oh my goodness,” I whisper, my hand flying to my mouth. My chest tightens as my emotions swirl into a chaotic storm.
I’m going to be a mom?
The wave of conflicting emotions that hits me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. There’s fear in there, a kind of recognition of the seriousness of this situation. There’s excitement as well, a thrill I can’t shake that makes me almost giddy. There’s anxiety. It’s all so overwhelming.
I’m pregnant.
The thought terrifies me, but it also makes my heart swell. I imagine the look on Joseph’s face when I tell him. I imagine Adriel’s hands on my belly. Silas’ quiet, protective nature becoming even more fierce.
I need to tell them .
I rush out of the bathroom, the test still clutched in my hand. My steps are quick as I head toward Silas’ office, but when I arrive, the room is empty.
“Where is he?” I mutter to myself.
One of the maids walks by, and I stop her. “Do you know where Silas is?”
She pauses. “There’s a meeting in the hall nearby. Master Silas and Master Adriel are there along with all the other family members who have arrived at the estate, Ma’am.”
I nod, murmuring my thanks, and head toward the hall. My footsteps echo in the corridor, and as I approach, I hear voices. They are low at first, then clearer as I near the slightly ajar door.
“...sully our gene pool,” an older man says, his voice filled with disdain. “Our ancestors worked tirelessly to keep our bloodline pure, strong. And now, look where we are.”
I freeze just outside the door, my breath catching.
“Silas could have had the best, the strongest of Omegas,” the man continues. “But instead, he chose…some Recessive thing. Do we even know if she’s capable of bearing pups? And the embarrassment! If he’d chosen a proper mate, maybe she wouldn’t have been humiliated at the gala by another Omega…a better Omega, by the way.”
My eyes blink rapidly. The words cut at me like knives, turning my mood completely on its head. My throat tightens as I hear murmurs of agreement ripple through the room.
I can hear every single one of their voices, and it’s clear to me that what the speaker just said isn’t unpopular. It stings to think of it that behind this door is a room full of intending in-laws, all who see me as a stain on their name. A blot. A blemish.
But there’s a faint iota of hope in me that refuses to die. Silas is in there, and Adriel is too. They know me. They care about me. They will defend me, I’m sure of it.
I press my ear closer to the door, waiting to hear their voices. Waiting to hear them retort, to disagree, to tell everyone in that room that they don’t know me and that I’m more than just the waste of time they have dismissed me as.
The seconds tick by…
But there’s nothing.
Not a single word.
I press my ears harder against the wooden door as if willing something, anything from them, to meet my ears. But nothing comes through.
They think I’m a stain on their name as well?
The silence breaks me apart.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I can’t take it anymore. I turn and run, my heart shattering with every step.
I burst through the door of my room, struggling to contain my sobs. The words ring over and over in my head.
Sully the gene pool.
Recessive thing.
I can’t stay here. I can’t breathe here.
I don’t know why I let myself believe, even for a second, that a fairy tale could be real. That someone like me could belong in a story where love conquers all.
They are in that room. Silas and Adriel. I know they are. And yet, when the moment came, when words were needed, there was only silence. Crushing, deafening silence.
Not one of them spoke. Not to defend me. Not to stand up for what we’ve built—or what I thought we were building. Because deep down, they agree.
Maybe Joseph does too.
The thought pierces me like a blade. Joseph, with all his quiet strength and the way he looks at me as if I mean something. Maybe that was a lie, too. Maybe I’ve been lying to myself this whole time.
The hurt slams into me with the force of a tidal wave, dragging me under, swallowing me whole. I gasp for breath, but there’s no air—just this suffocating truth. I could never be good enough for them. No matter what I’ve done, no matter how hard I’ve tried to prove myself worthy, I’ll always be the outsider. The stain on their family name.
And now, I’m carrying their child.
My hand trembles as it brushes against my stomach, the realization pressing heavier on me than ever before. This child is part of them, part of their legacy, and yet, I’m nothing. Less than nothing. A mark of disgrace in their eyes.
I thought love might be enough. I thought I might be enough. But fairy tales aren’t real, and I don’t know what to do now.
I throw open my suitcase, sobbing as I shove clothes inside. I grab anything I can reach, not caring if it’s packed neatly.
I grab my phone and call Leila.
“Danae?” she answers immediately. I’m losing the battle of trying to hold onto some shred of composure because, before I can say anything, she asks. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to leave,” I choke out. “I need to come home. Now.”
“Wait, what happened? Talk to me!”
“I can’t,” I sob. “I just need to get out of here. I want to come home. Now!”
Leila is quiet for a moment. Then her voice softens. She knows me well enough to know I am in a crisis to ask this of her. “Okay. Go to the airport. Head to the private plane section. Ryan will have a plane ready for you, no matter what. Just breathe, okay?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Thank you.”
I hang up, grab my bags, and storm out of the room. The air outside feels cold against my tear-streaked face as I flag down one of the drivers stationed near the front.
“Take me to the airport,” I demand, my voice cracking.
The driver looks startled, but just before he can respond, Joseph steps out from the shadows.
“Danae?” he calls, his voice filled with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I look at him, my vision blurred by tears. “This was all a mistake,” I whisper. “I need to leave.”
“Leave?” He steps closer, his brow furrowed. “To where? Why? What happened?”
“Please, Joseph,” I plead. “Just let me go.”
“Danae,” he says softly, reaching out as if to steady me. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Did someone…”
“Please,” I interrupt, my voice breaking. “I’m begging you. Just let me go.”
Joseph’s face falls, his shoulders slumping. After a moment, he nods to the driver, silently giving his permission.
I climb into the car, and as it pulls away from the estate, I feel a mix of relief and despair.
At the private airport, a plane waits on the tarmac. The pilot approaches as I step out of the car.
“Ms. Danae,” he says, tipping his cap. “This flight was arranged courtesy of Mr. Ryan Wills. However, the weather is worsening rapidly. It’s going to be extremely dangerous to fly, especially near the mountains.”
My heart sinks. “Is there any chance we can make it?”
The pilot hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. “If we take off quickly, we might be able to get ahead of the storm.”
“Then let’s go,” I say firmly. “Please. Now.”
He nods, sensing the urgency in my voice, and ushers me onto the plane.
The takeoff is rougher than usual—every bump, every lurch feels amplified, but eventually, we lift off. For a brief, hopeful moment, as the plane climbs higher and higher, it seems like we might escape the storm’s grasp.
But moments later, just as we stabilize, the aircraft trembles, a faint shake at first, like a warning. The turbulence comes in waves, each jolt stronger than the last. My stomach flips, and I glance at the fasten seatbelt sign, glowing persistently, a silent command to stay put.
A sharp drop makes my breath hitch, the sensation of weightlessness leaving my heart pounding. The turbulence intensifies, the rattling of the overhead bins and the creaking of the plane’s frame setting my nerves on edge.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, calm but clipped. “Ma’am, please fasten your seatbelt and remain seated. I’m doing my best to get us through. Stay calm.”
The words are meant to reassure, but the steady quiver in the plane says otherwise. Another jolt, harsher this time, shakes the cabin. My fingers dig into the armrests as fear claws at my chest.
And then it happens—a lurch so violent it feels like the plane is being yanked by an unseen hand. I can’t stop the scream that escapes me, raw and panicked. My hands clutch the armrests tighter, knuckles white, as though holding on might somehow tether me to safety. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat a frantic plea.
The storm rages on outside, lightning flashing sporadically, illuminating the thick, churning clouds.
“Oh no. No.”
The lights flicker.
And then…
Boom.