Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Leila’s POV
Five years ago
Victor seeing us that day had changed everything.
I’d caught the flicker in his eyes—something sharp, almost wounded.
But he didn’t say a word. He just closed the door and left like it was none of his business.
Immediately after Victor left, I’d pushed Luca away and ran out of his office, hoping that would be the first and last time Luca and I ever got into a “compromising” situation.
But then he’d shown up in my house that night, and we’d gone well over the edge of “compromising”.
And just like that, everything had changed.
Somehow, news of us being an “item” spread throughout the office.
The tension at work became unbearable. Meetings grew quieter when I walked in.
Eyes lingered. Whispers followed me through hallways like smoke.
Then came the photos. A grainy shot of Luca dropping me off outside my building.
Another of us was exiting the Elvis cafe.
A third one—his hand on the small of my back—tagged “Alpha’s Heir Vaughn’s Mystery Woman? ”
Luca didn’t hide it. Not even a little.
He told Charles to “clear the calendar” for our weekends.
I should’ve been terrified. Maybe I was.
But it was like he’d made a decision—that if anyone had a problem with me by his side, they could choke on it.
He made no apologies for having me by his side—not as his employee, but as his Mate. His choice. His claim.
“Excuse me,” I said, running toward the subway train that had already announced its impending departure. I squeezed through the closing doors, and it wasn’t until I’d caught my breath and settled in that I noticed all the eyes on me.
The woman sitting across from me kept staring. And not in the, oh, you look familiar way. No. This was something colder. To my side, another woman held her phone like a weapon, angled just enough to take a picture without asking.
I adjusted my coat, pulling it tighter around myself. The flash of the camera went off. Subtle. But I saw it. I also heard the whispers. That’s her? I expected more. Shouldn’t she have a car? Why is she taking the subway?
I said nothing. I just kept my chin up. I focused on the dark tunnel beyond the window, and let it drown out the sound of their whispers.
My relationship with Luca had been a trending topic in Manhattan for the last few months.
Although I’d been uncomfortable with the attention at first, I’d started to slowly get used to it. Luca made it a point to take me to every high-class pack event in Manhattan—dinners with continental delegates, and “casual” date nights at five-star restaurants I’d only ever dreamt of visiting.
I never would’ve taken him for the type of man who indulged in public displays of affection. I’d never once seen him photographed with a woman, unlike the other billionaires and rich Betas who seemed to fill Buzzfeed’s headlines weekly with scandalous affairs.
But whenever Luca and I walked together, he held me. Around the waist. On the small of my back. Always keeping me close—like being even a centimeter away from him might unravel the whole damn world.
He never hesitated to kiss me in public.
And when I once asked him why, he told me it wasn’t about affection.
Hell, the man didn’t even know what PDA meant.
He said he did it to mark his territory.
That night, when he claimed me in bed, he made sure to reiterate exactly what he meant by that: I was his. His and his alone.
Of course, this so-called public affection—this territorial claiming—came with layers of complications.
Many of them unpleasant. Suddenly, I was on every pack media outlet page.
Every time I stepped out—especially on the subway—someone would recognize me.
The stares came like heat waves. What does he see in that bitch? kind of stares.
Luca offered to get me a personal driver. Someone to take me to and from work, and anywhere else I needed, just to shield me from the gossip and secondhand embarrassment.
But I refused. I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking advantage of his wealth, or his attention. That wasn’t why I loved him. Far from it.
I loved him because he made me feel seen in a world that had always overlooked me.
And as the universe would have it, he was my Fated Mate.
I was relieved when the subway ride came to an end. Back at home, I was setting the dinner table when my father staggered through the front door. Drunk. As usual.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted him softly.
He didn’t acknowledge me. He just dropped into his usual chair, body slumped like all the fight had drained out of him years ago. I plated his food and placed it in front of him, then took the seat across the table—not beside him like I used to.
He’d never hit me. My father wasn’t that kind of man. At least, he hadn’t been.
But lately, I wasn’t sure what kind of man he was anymore.
He was a shell—an echo of the man I’d adored growing up.
The man who taught me to ride a bike. The man who never missed a school recital.
That man had vanished. Now, his temper lit like dry twigs.
He was now involved in gambling deals that had taken away all his money and joy.
I’d learned to stay out of reach when he started to burn with rage.
Silence had become the third guest at our dinner table. So, when he spoke, the words barely registered.
I looked up from my plate. “What did you say, Dad?”
He mumbled again, then said louder, “I said you were on Manhattan’s Pack Daily news. Again. Dressed in some expensive ass gown. Dripping in jewelry. Letting that Alpha of yours parade you around like a trophy.”
Spite clung to every word like grime under his nails. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t even know if I should.
I settled for a noncommittal “hmm” and kept eating.
The silence crept back in. Then he shattered it again.
“The mortgage bill came in. Four grand. Think you can ask your fancy Alpha boyfriend for the money? That’s pocket change to someone like him, right?”
My fork hit the plate with a sharp clatter. I let out a long sigh, the weight of this exact conversation pressing down on me again.
“For the last time, Dad, I’m not going to ask Luca for money. Just because he’s my Mate doesn’t mean I have a right to his bank account.”
“Then what good is he if he can’t help us?”
His fist slammed against the table. His fork flew. His voice thundered.
I didn’t even flinch. I was past reacting.
That was my cue to leave. Appetite gone.
Wordlessly, I picked up my plate, scraped the leftovers into the bin, rinsed it off in the sink, and headed to my room.
The weeks that followed weren’t any better. My father’s debt ballooned from four thousand to eight. And to make things worse, he’d borrowed from a loan shark. Since then, he’d stopped coming home on time. Most nights, I’d leave his food out and eat mine in silence. That became our new normal.
But even with everything unraveling at home, something else had begun to stir in me. A strange kind of feeling. Not the kind that came from stress or exhaustion. This was something deeper.
I’d started getting dizzy at work. My energy was constantly dipping. And then the click—the sharp, inevitable click—that confirmed the suspicion I’d been pushing to the back of my mind: I’d missed my period.
On the way home that day, I stopped at the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test. Back at the apartment, I sat on the toilet, waiting for the results to appear. Five minutes felt like five lifetimes.
As I waited, I let myself feel.
To my surprise, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was…thrilled.
The thought of a baby—his baby—growing inside me made my heart skip. Luca and I had talked about family a few times. Despite everything with his own family, despite how broken and cold his relationship with his brother and father was, Luca had always wanted one of his own. A real one.
I’d imagined he’d be happy when I told him. Maybe even ecstatic.
If there was news to tell.
My phone beeped, signaling the end of the five-minute countdown I’d set. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them.
Two red lines.
Positive.
I was pregnant.
I stared at the test, my lips slowly pulling into a wide grin. A thrill ran down my spine. Excitement curled in my belly. I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over the screen as I started to type out a message to Luca, but stopped.
This wasn’t the kind of news you broke over text.
No. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to remember that moment forever. His expression. His reaction. The way he’d probably pull me close and whisper something that would make me cry.
It had to be in person.
And what better time than at the Vaughn Industries twenty-year anniversary gala? Luca had personally asked me to come, even had an extravagant dress made for me.
He’d said I’d be meeting his father for the first time. That I needed to make a solid impression. I planned to do just that.
And more.
The next morning, everything felt normal.
I woke up nauseous, but that was expected. I made my usual stop at Elvis Cafe and picked up two cups of boba—one for me, one for Luca. He’d pretend he hated it, but he always finished it first.
I even hummed a little as I entered the building, feeling a euphoria of excitement I’d never felt in my life.
The revolving doors spun open with that familiar whoosh of air conditioning.
It wasn’t until I stepped into the lobby that I noticed it—the tension, like the static in the air before a thunderstorm.
People weren’t hurrying around as they normally did.
They were whispering. Faces were drawn tight.
Phones were clutched a little harder. Security guards were standing straighter.
A few people looked up when I passed. Then quickly looked away. Others didn’t bother hiding their stares. Their eyes followed me, cold and unreadable.