Sable's POV
I'm on my hands and knees, scrubbing blood from the marble floor, when the doorbell rings.
The soul poison from yesterday left dark stains that won't come out. The maid said not to worry about it, that professionals would handle it. But I need to do something with my hands or I'll go crazy thinking about how close I came to losing my baby.
How close Thorne came to losing whatever's growing between us.
The doorbell rings again. Insistent.
Thorne's at work. The security guards are outside. I'm not supposed to answer the door after yesterday's attack.
But what if it's important? What if something's wrong?
I check the camera feed Thorne showed me how to use. A woman stands there. Beautiful. Elegant. Familiar.
Vivienne.
Every instinct screams to ignore her. But she's pressing the bell nonstop now, and my head is pounding.
I open the door just a crack. "Can I help you?"
"Finally." She pushes past me like she owns the place. Because emotionally, she does. "We need to talk, omega to Beta."
My wolf bristles at the disrespect. But I'm wearing cleaning gloves and old clothes, still weak from yesterday's poisoning. Not exactly in a position of power.
"Thorne isn't here—"
"I know where my boyfriend is." She settles onto the white couch like a queen on her throne. "I'm here to talk to you."
Boyfriend. She says it like a weapon.
I close the door slowly. "About what?"
"About reality." Vivienne crosses her legs. "Sit down. This might take a while."
I don't want to sit. Don't want to be in the same room as her. But refusing feels childish, so I perch on the edge of a chair.
"Let me guess," I say quietly. "You're here to tell me to stay away from Thorne."
"Oh, honey." Her laugh is cruel. "I don't need to tell you that. You already know your place." She leans forward. "But I think we need to clarify the hierarchy. Make sure there's no confusion."
"I'm not confused—"
"Aren't you?" Her smile sharpens. "You're pregnant with his child. Living in his home. Probably starting to think you matter to him."
The words hit like slaps. Because she's right. Last night at dinner, Thorne smiled at me. Actually smiled. We talked about baby names. He touched my hand across the table.
It felt real.
"I'm his wife," I say, hating how small my voice sounds.
"You're his contract." Vivienne pulls out her phone, scrolls, then turns the screen toward me. "Read the highlighted section."
It's my marriage contract. I recognize my signature at the bottom.
"The Omega agrees that this union is strictly for procreation purposes. All emotional and romantic partnerships maintained by the Alpha prior to this contract remain valid and unchanged."
My stomach drops. "I don't understand."
"Let me translate." Vivienne's eyes glitter. "You're the womb. I'm the wife in everything but paperwork. Thorne and I have been together for eight years. We built his empire together. We love each other." She pauses. "You're just the temporary solution to a biological problem."
My wolf snarls—liar, liar, LIAR—but my human heart knows she's telling the truth.
"If he loves you so much," I manage, "why did he marry me?"
"Because the Pack Council won't accept a Beta mate. They're old-fashioned idiots who value bloodline over everything." Vivienne stands, walks to the window. "So we found a workaround. You give him an heir. In exchange, you get money, status, and the privilege of raising a child who'll never really be yours."
"That's not—Thorne wouldn't—"
"Thorne would do anything for power. Including marry someone he doesn't love." She turns back to me. "Tell me, has he ever said he loves you?"
Silence. Heavy. Damning.
"Has he ever chosen you over me? Spent the night in your bed instead of mine?" Vivienne tilts her head. "Or does he use you when necessary and come to me for everything that matters?"
Tears burn my eyes. I won't cry. Won't give her that satisfaction.
"Why are you doing this?" My voice cracks anyway.
"Because I'm trying to be kind." She actually sounds sincere. "You're young. Naive. You probably think the baby will change things. That motherhood will make you important to him."
"It won't?"
"Oh, sweetie." Vivienne crouches in front of me. "The baby makes you useful. Not important. There's a difference." She touches my hand—her skin is ice-cold. "Let me give you some advice, omega to omega. Don't fall in love with him. Don't hope for more. Just do your job, take your payment, and accept that some women are meant to be chosen, and others..." She smiles sadly. "Others are just meant to survive."
She stands, smooths her perfect hair. "I'll see myself out. Oh, and Sable?" She pauses at the door. "If you try to seduce him, if you try to make him choose you over me? I'll make your life hell. And unlike you, I actually have the power to do it."
The door closes softly behind her.
I sit frozen, her words echoing in my head. Just meant to survive.
Is that all I am? A survivor? A temporary placeholder in Thorne's real life?
My wolf howls in grief. She knows the truth I'm refusing to face: Thorne is our mate, and he's choosing someone else anyway.
I make it to the bathroom before I start crying. Sink to the floor, hugging my knees, sobbing into my hands.
Everything hurts. My body from yesterday's poisoning. My heart from Vivienne's words. My soul from knowing she's right.
I'm nothing here. A womb with legs. Temporary. Replaceable.
My hand drifts to my stomach—barely a bump yet, but my baby is there. Growing. Real.
"We'll survive this," I whisper through tears. "Somehow. I promise."
But I don't know if I'm lying.
A soft knock on the bathroom door. "Mrs. Corvinus?"
The maid. I wipe my face quickly. "Yes?"
"There's a package for you. Marked urgent."
I open the door. She hands me a small box. No return address.
"Who delivered it?"
"Courier service. They said it was important." The maid looks worried. "Should I call security?"
"No. It's fine. Thank you."
I close the door, stare at the box. After yesterday's poisoning, I should be more careful.
But curiosity wins.
Inside is a phone. Brand new. And a note in elegant handwriting:
Dear Sable,
By now, Vivienne has probably visited you. Told you that you're temporary. That Thorne will never love you.
She's right about most of it. But she's wrong about one thing.
You're not powerless. In fact, you're the only person who can destroy Thorne completely.
The phone is untraceable. Use it to call me when you're ready to learn the truth about your husband. About what he's really planning. About why that baby in your womb is worth more than you could possibly imagine.
And about the other twenty omegas he's already bought for his breeding program.
Your friend,
Caelan Greystone
P.S. Don't trust anyone in that penthouse. Not the maids. Not the guards. Especially not Thorne. They're all watching you. Reporting everything you do. You're not a wife. You're a prisoner who doesn't know she's in a cage.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the phone.
Other omegas? Breeding program? Prisoners?
It has to be a lie. Caelan is Thorne's enemy. He's trying to manipulate me.
But then I remember the file from months ago. The one Caelan showed me before Malachi interrupted. PROJECT BREEDING PROGRAM - PHASE ONE COMPLETE.
My name. And twenty others.
I turn on the phone. It powers up immediately. One contact programmed in: CALL FOR TRUTH.
I should throw this away. Tell Thorne. Prove I'm loyal.
But Vivienne's words won't stop echoing: You're just meant to survive.
And Caelan's words: You're a prisoner who doesn't know she's in a cage.
I look around the luxury bathroom. The marble. The gold fixtures. The prison that looks like paradise.
My finger hovers over the call button.
Then I hear voices in the living room. Men's voices.
I crack open the bathroom door, peeking out.
Thorne is home early. And he's not alone.
Three men in suits stand with him. Council members—I recognize their faces from photos.
"—cannot wait any longer," one is saying. "The omega must produce a viable heir within nine months or we proceed with alternative measures."
"She's pregnant now," Thorne argues. "The timeline is satisfied."
"Is it?" Another council member pulls out papers. "We've reviewed your contract. There's nothing preventing you from acquiring additional breeding stock while awaiting this birth. In fact, we strongly encourage it. Genetic diversity is crucial."
No. No, no, no.
"I don't need additional—" Thorne starts.
"It's not a request, Alpha Corvinus. It's an order." The eldest council member's voice is final. "You have thirty days to select and contract with a minimum of three more omegas. We've already approved the candidates."
They hand him a folder.
I watch through the crack as Thorne opens it. His face goes pale.
"These are children. Some are barely eighteen—"
"Legal adults. With excellent bloodlines. You'll begin the selection process next week." The council members head for the door. "Congratulations on your success with the first omega. Let's hope the others prove equally... cooperative."
They leave.
Thorne stands alone in the living room, staring at the folder in his hands.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it: "I'm sorry, Sable. I'm so sorry."
He knows I'm here. Knows I heard.
I close the bathroom door silently, slide down to the floor.
The phone in my hand suddenly feels like a lifeline.
Caelan was telling the truth. All of it.
I'm not Thorne's wife. I'm experiment number one.
And three more girls are about to become experiments two, three, and four.
My finger presses the call button before I can stop myself.
Caelan answers on the first ring. "I wondered how long it would take."
"Get me out," I whisper. "Please. Get me out of here."
"I will. But first, you need to know something about that baby you're carrying." His voice drops to barely audible. "It's not Thorne's."
The world tilts.
"What?"
"The soul poison yesterday? It should have killed any normal pregnancy. But yours survived." Caelan pauses. "Because it's not a normal pregnancy, Sable. Thorne's not the father. I am."