Pregnant Human Wife Runs Away: The Werewolf Alpha Panics

The car was quiet. My phone suddenly rang.

A message from an unknown number popped up.

I opened it—and froze completely in my seat.

It was a photo. My boyfriend Brandon, passionately kissing another woman in a restaurant. The woman's arms were wrapped around his neck, his hand pressed tightly against her waist.

That gesture was exactly the same as when he used to kiss me.

I could hardly believe my eyes. How could Brandon betray me?

The restaurant was just ahead, not far away. I quickly got out of Maria's car.

"Thanks for driving me here, Maria."

She looked at me with concern. "It's nothing, I was heading this way anyway. We're good friends, no need to thank me."

"But he's been so late," she paused, "hasn't he called you? Not even a message?"

I forced a strained smile and shook my head.

"I sent him a message before coming. He probably didn't want to disturb my work, so he didn't reply."

I didn't dare tell her what I'd seen. That photo couldn't be real—maybe that person just looked like Brandon.

Maria clearly didn't believe me, casting a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"

I nodded hard. "Don't worry. Brandon wouldn't leave me alone over something like this."

She waved at me from the car. "I'll be nearby, remember to call me if anything happens. And—good luck."

Watching Maria's car drive away, I straightened my dress in the glass window of a roadside shop. And tried to calm myself down.

Today was our seven-year anniversary.

Brandon had specially chosen the most expensive restaurant in town.

That photo must be fake. He'd put so much thought into preparing for this anniversary, how could he be with someone else?

At this moment, another ten minutes had passed. I couldn't delay any longer!

I took a deep breath, gripped my purse strap, and pushed open the restaurant door.

I saw him as soon as I entered. Brandon sat in the innermost seat, warm amber light falling on him, making him look like a handsome prince.

He'd specially worn a suit today, with a tie, even his hair combed meticulously without a strand out of place.

My steps slowed, and my heart gradually relaxed.

It really was fake.

He was indeed there waiting for me. I'd been overthinking.

But compared to how refined he looked today, my simple white dress seemed too casual.

Whatever. I didn't want to keep him waiting any longer.

I adjusted my expression and walked over with a smile.

"Honey, sorry, I had some extra things come up today."

Brandon shook his head and stood up very gentlemanly, pulling out my chair for me.

His movements were gentle and polite. But somehow I felt something was wrong.

Combined with that inexplicable photo, my heart started to panic.

He was indeed treating me well. But today was a bit too much. He'd never pulled out a chair for me before.

And from the moment I entered until now, he hadn't even looked me in the eye properly.

Actually, from the moment he didn't reply to my message, I should have sensed something was wrong.

He was too off.

"Brandon, what's wrong?" I stared at him. "If you're angry because I was late, I apologize."

He immediately stopped me. "Daisy, no, it's not that. Let's eat first, okay?"

But I couldn't be fooled. That terrible feeling killed my appetite completely.

I looked at him seriously. "Honey, what's really going on?"

He lowered his head.

"Daisy... sweet girl," he paused, "I have bad news to tell you."

I hated bad news. And I hated Brandon's expression even more right now—his face full of misery, meaning what he had to say was worse than I'd imagined.

I'd thought we'd spend a pleasant seventh anniversary together. Now it seemed impossible.

He raised his head, his gaze gradually becoming firm. I knew that look too well—he'd already made some decision.

Then he spoke, his voice terrifyingly calm:

"Daisy, let's break up."

I'd thought it would be bad. But I never thought it would be this bad.

Those words were like a knife, making me so upset I could barely breathe.

How could he say it so easily?

I'd been with him for seven whole years. What did that count for?

What exactly did he think I was? Breaking up with me on our seven-year anniversary?

I'd had good news to tell him. Now, there was no need.

I shot up from my seat. "Why! Brandon, you have no heart!"

Several nearby tables looked over. He quickly grabbed me and pushed me back into my chair.

"Daisy, you're just an ordinary hospital employee. When I have problems, you can't help at all. So please, stop holding me back, okay?"

Holding me back?

My whole body froze in place, I couldn't even bend my fingers.

I couldn't believe that my boyfriend of seven years actually saw me as a burden.

Brandon stood up.

"Order whatever you want, it's on me. You got off work late today, eat more in a bit. Let's part ways here."

He didn't even give me a chance to react, turning and walking away.

I sat there in a daze, my mind completely blank.

My gaze involuntarily followed him—through the restaurant's glass, I clearly saw the girl from the photo affectionately linking her arm through his.

My phone vibrated.

His message popped up:

"Daisy, you're a good girl, but we're in two different worlds now."

The waiter brought out steak and various small dishes. But I had no appetite at all.

My phone rang again. Maria's cheerful voice came through:

"So? Did you tell him? Was he thrilled? When did you two decide to get married?"

I was silent for a few seconds. My voice choked as I forced out three words:

"We broke up."

Maria, who was nearby, quickly rushed in, her voice so shrill it nearly pierced my eardrums:

"What! He actually broke up with you?"

Furious, she turned and headed outside, looking like she was going to settle accounts with Brandon. I grabbed her hand and gently shook my head.

"Forget it. Don't make it too ugly. He said... to let each other go."

Even though he already had someone else, I didn't want to make things too embarrassing.

I sat down listlessly.

"I've been thinking, breaking up is fine. After all, I'm just an ordinary person."

Maria shook her head and sat down, spreading her hands dramatically:

"Daisy, if you're ordinary, there probably aren't any ordinary people left in this world."

I handed her the menu expressionlessly.

"Alright, don't be angry. Even though we broke up, he said this meal is on him. So you order?"

Maria's eyes rolled, and she immediately ordered all the most expensive dishes on the menu, plus a bottle of red wine.

Crimson liquid slowly poured into the glass. Maria sighed:

"So what are you going to do next? Are you really going to go with that marriage your grandpa arranged for you?"

My hand cutting the steak paused. I looked up at her, then nodded.

"Yes. First, I can't make Grandpa wait any longer. Second, the inheritance my mother left me can only be claimed if I get married before I turn twenty-seven."

"If I can't get that inheritance, my father will get fifty-one percent of the company shares and control the company. I absolutely cannot let my mother's property fall into his hands."

"There are only two days left until my twenty-seventh birthday. So—no matter what, I have to get married tomorrow. Whoever he is."

Maria gave me a thumbs up and stuffed a large piece of steak in her mouth.

"So when are you planning to tell your marriage partner?"

Tell him?

I didn't even know who he was.

But I had his grandpa's phone number. Hopefully it wasn't too late to call now.

I stared at the red wine beside me, raised the glass, and downed it in one gulp.

The alcohol churned in my stomach.

Grandpa couldn't wait any longer. I'd originally wanted to tell Brandon tonight, have him go to the church with me tomorrow to get married, so Grandpa in the hospital could rest easy. Now that wasn't possible.

After a few glasses, the bottle was empty.

I felt my cheeks burning, squinted at my phone, and with my head spinning, dialed a string of numbers—a number that had always been in my phone but I'd never called.

The other end picked up quickly.

I didn't hesitate any longer, getting straight to the point:

"Hello. Does your grandson... still need a marriage partner?"