The Son I Raised for My Husband’s Mistress

I often found myself staring into my son Leon Thomas's eyes, transfixed.

One was a brilliant sapphire blue—his father's legacy. The other, amber.

I didn't understand. Leon's bloodline was indeed impure.

That second eye should have been silver—the hallmark of my heritage, the mark of the Wolf Royal bloodline.

But it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.

Until I stumbled upon an ancient tome in my husband Carlisle Thomas's study, its pages detailing the inheritance patterns of Royal Wolf eye color:

Regardless of which species they mate with, direct descendants of the Wolf Royals will invariably inherit at least one distinctive eye.

In other words, any child I bore would certainly carry a silver pupil.

My hands trembled uncontrollably. I brought my fears to Carlisle—the possibility that we'd brought home the wrong child.

He exploded with rage, snatching the book from my hands and hurling it into the fireplace.

"Selene, are you questioning my loyalty to you? Suggesting that our son isn't your biological child? If Leon knew you doubted him, it would break his heart."

Carlisle slammed the door on his way out. As I watched his retreating figure, ice crept through my veins.

His reaction confirmed the very suspicion I'd been desperate to deny.

The full moon was seven days away. I decided to abandon my plans to bring Leon back to the Wolf Royal pack.

Carlisle had mentioned it more than once—that I should bring Leon back to the pack for formal recognition by the Wolf Royals.

Pack law was clear: once entered into the bloodline registry, regardless of purity, any wolf had the right to compete for the position of next Alpha.

But Leon's eye color had always given me pause.

I'd planned to bring him back this year during the full moon, but he still couldn't control his transformation—couldn't even trigger it voluntarily.

Sometimes I wondered if the boy was defective. Royal pups could shift at will by twelve months.

But my wolf knew. He was mine. Without question.

Yet that passage kept replaying in my mind. "At least one eye will be silver..."

Yes, there were many mixed-bloods in the family, but no matter what species they mated with, that silver eye remained constant. So Leon...

I nearly collapsed, unable to accept the reality.

If Leon wasn't my son, then where was my actual child? What was Carlisle hiding?

I sat by the window watching the silver moon, sleepless through the night...

Until dawn broke the horizon, and a coat settled across my shoulders.

"Mother, have you been up all night?"

I turned to meet Leon's mismatched gaze. "Could you peel an apple for me, sweetheart?"

Leon didn't refuse. He was clumsy—always cutting his fingers when peeling apples—so I never let him near anything sharp.

Sure enough... Leon yelped, the knife slicing his finger. I rushed over and concealed the bloodied blade.

Just a small cut. I couldn't be bothered to tend it. Before, I would have been frantic, rushing him to the doctor, even though the wound would heal on its own within minutes.

Sensing my unusual response, Leon looked at me with wounded eyes. But seeing those eyes only filled me with revulsion.

I sought out the witch doctor. She had ways of using Leon's blood to verify whether we shared a maternal bond—though my heart already knew the answer.

"Princess, where did you obtain this blood? This belongs to a common wolf, with no connection whatsoever to the noble Wolf Royal bloodline."

Whatever else she said was lost to me.

My ears rang. I had raised a child who shared no blood with me for five years!

I had treasured him, nurtured him with the utmost care.

Five years ago, that rainy night, I was about to give birth, but Carlisle was away on assignment, delayed.

By the time our child was born, he'd returned, personally placing the infant in my arms.

The midwife? After Leon's birth, I never saw her again.

I tracked down her address from memory. Her son answered the door.

"Looking for my mother? I'm sorry—she died five years ago in an accident. Very sudden. Left no final words."

How convenient. Suspicion bloomed in my chest. What were the odds? It had to be Carlisle.

Back home, I went straight to Leon's room.

I rarely came here. Carlisle insisted the boy needed privacy now that he was older.

I immediately spotted something under his pillow. Without hesitation, I pulled it out—a photograph in a frame.

Carlisle with his arm around a woman. A human woman. She held Leon in her arms, her eyes the same amber as Leon's distinctive eye.

On the back of the frame, Leon had carved in crooked letters: "Mommy."