My Alpha Tried to Kill Our Pup for Power

The antiseptic smell of the hospital room burned my nostrils as I lay still, staring at the ceiling tiles. The bandage across my forehead itched beneath my carefully applied makeup—just enough to look injured without appearing severely damaged. My fingers traced the outline of my flat stomach beneath the thin hospital gown, checking that the padding I'd inserted remained in place. The pup was safe, hidden away with trusted allies. No one would find my child until I was ready.

The door swung open with dramatic force, revealing Victor and Elena Castro. Thatcher's parents entered like they owned the room—which, I supposed, they believed they did.

'My dear, how are you feeling?' Elena's voice dripped with false concern, her hand reaching for mine with practiced sympathy. Her diamond bracelet caught the fluorescent light, another piece of jewelry purchased with my money.

I turned my face toward the wall, letting my voice waver with just the right amount of confusion. 'I—I'm sorry, I don't remember you.'

Victor stepped forward, his imposing frame blocking the sunlight from the window. 'Nonsense, girl. We're family. You're our son's Luna.'

I blinked slowly, allowing a single tear to slide down my cheek. 'I'm sorry, but I really don't remember. The doctor said I might not... that I shouldn't be upset.'

Elena's smile faltered. 'Of course, dear. But surely you remember our arrangement? The monthly allowance for the pack house upkeep?'

'Allowance?' I echoed, my voice deliberately fragile. 'I'm afraid I don't understand. My accounts are... they're all in my name, aren't they? The pack's finances?'

Victor's face darkened. 'Don't be ridiculous. We've been managing the funds since—'

'Since my accident?' I interrupted, my voice rising slightly. 'I'm so confused. The doctor said I shouldn't make any financial decisions while my memory is unstable. I don't think I can authorize anything right now.'

The color drained from Elena's face. 'But we have commitments, obligations—'

'I'm so sorry,' I whispered, letting my voice crack. 'I just don't remember.'

I watched the panic ripple across their faces as the reality of their situation sank in. Without my authorization, every credit card would be frozen. Every property transfer void. Every privilege I'd granted them—gone.

Victor's hands clenched at his sides. 'We'll speak with the doctor about this. Surely there's something—'

'My legal team will be here tomorrow,' I said, my voice suddenly firm despite the tears in my eyes. 'Until then, I think I need to rest.'

They left in a flurry of muttered threats and urgent whispers, already reaching for their phones. I could almost feel the desperation radiating from them as they scrambled to contact their son.

Three days later, I felt the shift in the air before I heard the commotion. The pack mind-link buzzed with excitement, whispers of a miracle spreading like wildfire.

'He's alive! The Alpha returns!'

I sat in the pack house garden, a book open on my lap that I wasn't reading, when the main doors burst open. There he was—my mate, my betrayer—limping dramatically, his clothes artfully torn, his face bearing the perfect amount of stubble to suggest hardship.

'Amaia,' he breathed, his voice carrying across the gathered crowd. 'My Luna.'

Every wolf in the vicinity held their breath, waiting for the emotional reunion. I could feel their anticipation, their need for the fairy tale ending.

I stood slowly, my expression carefully blank. 'Can I help you?'

The silence that followed was deafening. Thatcher's confident stride faltered, his rehearsed words dying on his lips.

'I'm sorry,' I continued, my voice carrying just enough for everyone to hear. 'But I don't remember you.'

His face contorted with shock, then quickly rearranged into an expression of tender concern. 'Amaia, darling, it's me. Your mate. Your Alpha.'

I took a step back, my posture stiff. 'I think you have the wrong person. Please excuse me.'

The pack watched in stunned silence as I walked away, leaving their 'miraculous' Alpha standing alone in the center of the gathering, his triumphant return crumbling into dust at his feet.

Behind me, I heard the first whispers of doubt. The first cracks in the story he'd so carefully constructed.

And inside, where no one could see, I smiled.