Alpha Boss, Baby Daddy

Cora

“The child you were carrying is not mine!”

My husband, Zach, burst into the conference room and slammed a DNA test into my face, shouting loud enough to shake the walls.

Just a second earlier, the manager had started to say my name in the promotion meeting.

Smirks. Whispers.My wolf coworkers looked pleased—like watching me get dragged was the highlight of their day.

It gave them the perfect excuse to ignore my work, my late nights, everything I’d done to get here—

and reduce me to a woman who “couldn’t even keep her legs closed.”

The Manager didn’t even look at me. Just crossed his arms and frowned, like I’d fooled him somehow.

“Maybe take this outside?” he said, nodding toward the door.

It wasn’t a suggestion. My stomach dropped.

I heard snickers behind me. My face burned, but I forced a smile.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Zach kept yelling as I dragged him into an empty office. He shook off my grip and started pacing like a caged animal.

“Why would you even ask that?” I said, barely keeping my voice steady. “Of course he’s your son.”

“That’s not what the test says.”

“Then the test is wrong. We used your sperm in the tube, Zach. It has to be yours.” I glanced at the door. I couldn’t be gone long. I still had a promotion to claim.

Zach folded his arms. “The machine was checked. I think you lied.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped. “But I don’t have time for this right now. We’ll talk at home.”

He called after me, but I didn’t stop. I half-ran back to the conference room—

and found it empty.

Gone. My moment. My name. My shot.

I stood there like an idiot, praying maybe someone had waited. But no one had.

I told myself my work would speak for me. That maybe, just maybe, the manager wouldn’t hold Zach’s drama against me.

But then I saw her.

Amy. Sitting on my desk like she owned it. Reapplying lipstick, like this was some kind of joke.

She didn’t even look at me until she was done. Then she smirked.

“These need to be finished before I get back tomorrow.”

She jabbed a stack of files with a perfectly manicured nail.

“I’m not your assistant,” I said, my voice low.

She slid off the desk, all smug and slow.

“How would you know? Check your email, single mother.”

I froze.

No. No way.

She didn’t just take my promotion. She waited for me to leave—and stole it.

And now she was rubbing it in my face.

I wanted to scream. But if I did, I might lose everything.

So I bit my tongue. Sat down. And started on her work.

The stack was massive. I’d probably throw out my back just trying to deliver them.

“At least I’m not a single mother,” I muttered. “I still have Zach.”

Amy paused mid-strut. Turned back with a grin.

“Now who can guarantee that?”

She winked and walked off, swinging her hips like she’d just won the world.

I finished the files late that night, every bone in my body aching.

The drive home was a blur—I barely remembered the red lights, the turns, or even parking. I just wanted to collapse into bed and disappear.

As I slid the key into the front door, I heard it.

A moan. High-pitched. Familiar.

“Oh yes! Right there! There! Go faster!”

Amy.

Her voice cut through the stillness of the house like glass shattering.

I froze, hand on the doorknob, breath locked in my throat.

But then—

“You’re the best baby! ”the man's voice was filled with ambiguous gasps.

It’s my husband, Zach.

The man I defended. The man I just told myself I still had.

He gasped,“Can you imagine? Cora actually says 'I love you' during sex.”

They laughed together. Soft. Intimate. Cruel.

My jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought I might be sick.

I stepped inside, the house smelled like soup.

It took a second to register—the stove light was still on, a pot gently steaming, as if this were just another normal night.

Something cold and sharp settled in my chest.

I grabbed the pot and made my way up the stairs.

It was heavy, hot, but I barely noticed.

I didn’t knock, just opened the bedroom door—and threw the soup straight at them.

Screams. Chaos. Burnt skin. Two naked bodies scrambling like rats.

Amy shrieked. “How dare you, you lowly human!”

Right. Human. Not a werewolf. Not his mate.

Just the one who sacrificed everything for him.

He said he didn’t need a mate. That he didn’t care about blood or status.

Liar.

And of all people—Amy? The one who humiliated me daily?

Did he not remember the nights I cried myself to sleep because of her?

Zach growled. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I was finally getting satisfied—and you ruined it.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

My body was frozen. My mind blank.

I had spent the whole day working late to hold our family together—

And this was what I came home to.

He didn’t even blink.

Just looked at me with that same smug, lazy smirk.

“You’re always tired. Always busy.”

He shrugged like this was obvious. Reasonable.

“I got tired of waiting.”

That was it.

No guilt. No apology.

Just facts. Like I should’ve seen it coming.

Amy stretched like a satisfied cat, chest bare, lips still swollen from kissing my husband.

“Oh, baby,” she purred, her voice dripping sugar and poison. “She never deserved you.”

She arched her back, fingers trailing slowly down her stomach like I wasn’t even there.

“I always knew you’d end up in the right bed.”

Then she looked at me—dead in the eyes—and smiled.

“Honestly, Cora,” she added sweetly, “you should thank me. At least someone’s keeping him satisfied.”

Then, without shame or hesitation, they started kissing again.

His hands roamed over her body like I was invisible. Her moans filled the room.

And I just stood there. Watching.

Like I didn’t exist.

My chest tightened, the pressure building beneath my ribs until it hurt to breathe. My throat burned.

But I didn’t scream. There was no point. They wouldn’t hear it.

They never did.

I turned away, eyes stinging, rage boiling beneath the numbness.

And then I saw the thermostat.

I walked over and cranked it down—every degree, until it was set to freezing.

Let them freeze together. Let the air bite their skin the way their betrayal was biting through me.

It wouldn’t fix anything. I knew that.

But I needed to do something.

Anything.

I had left this disgusting place but didn’t know where I was going.

I just kept walking, numb, until I saw a warm light glowing through a window.

No one stopped me. I sat and started drinking—whiskey, straight. One after another.

My body went numb. My chest didn’t.

So I called Daisy. She answered like nothing was wrong.

Like my whole world wasn’t collapsing.

When I told her everything, she sighed softly. “Look, maybe this is your sign to let go.”

“I can’t just let go. I’m still married. Riley—”

“I know. But just for tonight, can you stop being the responsible one?” Her voice dipped into something playful. “Go wild. Drink. Flirt. Find someone hot and forget everything.”

I pressed the cold rim of the glass to my lips. “Like who?”

She laughed. “It’s a hotel bar. Maybe there’s someone already waiting upstairs. You’ve earned at least one good night, haven’t you?”

Her voice wrapped around me, the only comfort I had left.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “You always know what I need.”

“I’ve got you,” she said. “Always.”

The more I drank, the fuzzier everything became—until I found myself stumbling into the elevator, barely steady on my feet.

When the doors slid open, I drifted out and knocked on the first door I saw.

The door opened, and temptation looked me in the eye.

All muscle, shadows, and silent power.

A man with black hair, tousled like he’d just rolled off satin sheets.

Whiskey-dark eyes raked over me, slow and deliberate, like he was undressing me with a single glance.

Bare chest. Defined abs. Thick arms like they were carved to hold me against the wall until I forgot my own name.

Lips full enough to do damage—perfect for ruining a woman like me.

He looked like every bad decision I’d never had the courage to make. And tonight, I didn’t care if I burned for it.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Just stood there, still and composed, like he was used to being in control of everything.

But those eyes? They watched me like I was something he hadn’t decided on yet—something dangerous, or something he might want.

The air between us buzzed, thick with something I couldn’t name. My skin prickled. My legs wobbled, and not just from the alcohol.

Somewhere in my haze, I remembered Daisy’s voice: Maybe there’s someone already waiting upstairs…

And looking at him now—this stranger with a body built for sin and a gaze sharp enough to cut—I believed it.

This had to be her surprise. A distraction.

God, she really did think of everything.

I didn’t ask his name. Didn’t care.

I just stepped closer.

“Kiss me.”

That was the last full sentence I spoke that night.