_Ivy's POV_

"Doctor, I don't know how to thank you." The mother gripped my hand outside her son's room. "They said another hour could have killed him."

Through the glass, I watched the boy's chest rise and fall. Earlier that evening, I'd caught the internal bleeding his first scan had missed. Now he was stable.

"Go sit with him," I said, covering her trembling fingers with mine. "He'll want you there when he wakes."

She wiped her cheek and hurried inside. I watched her take his hand before my phone buzzed.

I slipped into the stairwell to answer.

"Mommy! I lost another tooth!"

I sat on the bottom step, smiling despite my exhaustion. "The one you kept wiggling on Sunday?"

"Yes! Look!"

"Sweetheart, you have to turn the camera on first."

There was some fumbling, then Ophelia's face filled the screen, her mouth open to show me the gap.

"At this rate, we'll have to blend your birthday cake."

"No! I can still chew!"

After we'd agreed that cake remained an option, her voice softened.

"You're coming Wednesday, right? Can you stay for breakfast?"

"I'll be there when you wake up."

"Can Daddy come too?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

My daughter was almost six. She had never met her father, because Alpha Theodore Woodrow had no idea she existed.

He'd made it clear he wanted no child of mine. A wolfless Luna was one thing; a defective heir was another.

I'd given birth during an extended medical placement, far from Starfalls. Keeping her secret had felt safer than discovering whether his family would reject her -- or take her from me.

"I need to talk to him first, sweetheart."

"Oh. Okay." She looked down. "Can we make pancakes?"

"Of course."

After we said goodnight, I sat there a little longer.

Wednesday. I would finally tell Theodore on Wednesday.

My daughter's questions were getting harder, and fear was no longer a good enough reason to keep postponing the conversation.

I had just left the locker room when I heard my husband's voice.

"Get me the best doctor. Now."

Theodore stood at the nurses' station, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, his sleeves pushed up over his forearms. A woman lay against his chest, draped in his suit jacket, her red nails resting at his open collar.

Alexandra Cyrus.

The woman he'd loved before he married me.

"She's pregnant," he told the nurse. "The pain started half an hour ago."

The young Omega nurse glanced around and spotted me.

"Dr. Woodrow, could you assess her? OB is sending someone down."

Theodore turned.

"Ivy."

Seven years, and my body still reacted to that voice before I could stop it.

Then his gaze dropped to my bag.

"Put that down. She needs you."

The nurse hurried ahead to open an examination room. He followed without waiting for my answer.

I set down my bag and pulled my white coat back on.

Even after he'd lowered Alexandra onto the bed, she kept hold of his hand. He brushed her hair away from her face.

"I'm here. You're going to be fine."

I had spent years wondering whether he knew how to sound like that.

Apparently, he did.

I asked about the pain and completed the initial assessment with the nurse. Alexandra's vital signs were stable, with no bleeding or immediate signs of distress.

"She needs an ultrasound," I said. "OB will take over from here."

"And you're sure the baby's all right?"

"The scan will tell us more."

His eyes narrowed, as though I were withholding reassurance out of spite.

"I need an answer, Ivy."

"And I need the scan before I can give you one."

His phone rang. He checked the screen, then gently freed his hand from Alexandra's.

"Two minutes. I'll be outside."

Once the door closed, Alexandra settled back against the pillow.

"You should have seen him when I called. He dropped everything."

I stripped off my gloves. "Did you need a doctor or an audience?"

Her smile sharpened.

"I'm carrying his baby. I thought you might want to know."

My fingers went still inside the second glove.

I pulled it free before looking at her.

"And you knew he was married. Was there something else you wanted to tell me?"

"Please. You have a marriage certificate. I've got the man."

"Then why are you trying so hard to convince me?"

Her cheeks flushed.

"I'm moving into your house on Wednesday."

I closed the chart.

"What?"

"Grace is turning the room beside yours into a nursery." She drew Theodore's jacket higher over her chest. "Such lovely light. I'm surprised you never found a use for it."

My books were in that room. My desk. The chair where I called my daughter.

"Oh," Alexandra said, watching me. "He hasn't told you."

"Then he can explain it to his wife. You don't speak for my marriage."

I handed the chart to the returning nurse and walked out.

Theodore was pocketing his phone.

"Done? How is she?"

"Alexandra is moving into our house?"

He paused, then lifted his chin.

"That's right. It's my decision."

"You didn't think to discuss it with me?"

"Now you know."

"Then find her somewhere else."

His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone."

"You brought your pregnant mistress into my examination room. My tone is the least of your problems."

A passing nurse stopped beside her trolley.

Theodore stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"She is not my mistress."

"Then stop treating her like your wife."

His jaw tightened.

"I am your wife, Theodore. Or does that only matter when you want me to obey you?"

The corridor had gone quiet. I'd never advertised our marriage at work, and he'd certainly never given anyone reason to notice it.

"Don't turn this into something it isn't," he said. "You know our marriage is different."

"I know you think that means you can do whatever you want."

"She moves in Wednesday. I'm not discussing it again."

Deep down, I still wanted an explanation. Some reason for his hands on her, his tenderness, the child he wouldn't deny.

Instead, he stood over me as though the only problem was my refusal to cooperate.

"You can decide where she lives," I said. "You don't get to decide whether I stay."

His expression hardened.

"Don't threaten me because you don't like the answer."

"Then give me a different one."

"Whatever grievance you have with me comes second to that child."

For a moment, all I could hear was Ophelia asking whether her father could come for breakfast.

"Then take care of the child," I said. "Don't ask your wife to make your mistress comfortable."

"I've told you not to call her that."

"And I've told you I won't live with her."

He glanced toward the examination room, already dismissing me.

I moved into his path.

"Come home tonight. We need to talk."

"Ivy--"

"Tonight, Theodore. I'm not asking again."

I collected my bag and left before he could turn another order into the last word.

I waited in the living room until the windows began to lighten.

Theodore never came home.

On the coffee table lay Ophelia's photograph and the documents I'd taken out after returning from the hospital. I'd abandoned Wednesday's careful plan because I couldn't bear another day of this.

Even after everything he'd said, I had still wanted to place her photograph in his hands and believe he would make room for us.

I gathered the papers and put them away.

My daughter had already spent too many mornings waking up without me.

Upstairs, I opened the bottom drawer and took out the divorce agreement.

His father had arranged our marriage. Theodore had had these papers drawn up before the wedding and signed them that night.

For seven years, my signature had been missing.

I sat at the dressing table and added it.

Then I opened the unanswered email from Meridian Hospital. A research position in neutral territory, with regular hours instead of overnight shifts.

Evenings with Ophelia. Breakfast without a packed bag waiting by the door.

I hit reply.

"I'd like to accept the research position. When can we discuss my start date?"