Chapter 2 Chapt. 2

"Alpha Lorenzo, if you don't come now, your wife may never forgive you."

Lorenzo Castellano looked up from the document in front of him.

His assistant stood beside the conference table, pale and visibly uncomfortable. She had worked for him long enough to know when to speak and when to keep her opinions to herself. Tonight, apparently, she had decided the risk was worth taking.

"What did you say?"

"Dr. Selene called again. Mrs. Castellano has been taken into emergency treatment. Her condition is serious."

Arabella Voss slowly lowered her wineglass.

"Your assistant seems to have forgotten her place," she remarked.

The young woman stiffened. "I'm only delivering the message, ma'am."

"Then deliver it and leave."

Lorenzo raised a hand before the exchange could continue.

"Go back to your desk. I'll handle this."

The assistant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the phone lying beside his papers.

"Sir, Dr. Selene said you should come immediately."

"I heard you the first time."

She bowed her head and left.

The door closed with a soft click.

Arabella leaned back in her chair. "You should dismiss her. Employees who interfere in personal matters become troublesome."

Lorenzo barely heard her. His attention had returned to his phone.

Three missed calls from Vanessa.

Two messages from the hospital.

One from Dr. Selene.

He opened the latest message.

Her condition is deteriorating. We need you here.

Something uncomfortable tightened beneath his ribs.

He had known Vanessa was pregnant for months. He had attended the first appointment, listened to the healer explain the risks, and even promised to be more available.

He had meant it at the time.

But work had piled up, meetings had become more demanding, and Arabella had been helping him secure a partnership that could transform Castellano Holdings.

There was always something more urgent.

Until tonight.

He pushed his chair back.

"I should go."

Arabella's expression changed so quickly that he almost missed it.

"Now?"

"My wife is in the hospital."

"And the contract?" She tapped the papers. "We have spent three months negotiating this agreement. The investors are waiting for your signature."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then act like it."

Lorenzo stared at her.

Few people spoke to him that way. As Alpha of Blackthorn Pack, he was accustomed to obedience, not challenges. Yet Arabella had a talent for making disagreement feel like weakness.

She softened her voice and reached for his hand.

"Listen to me. Vanessa has a habit of making everything about her. You told me yourself that she called you over every little discomfort during the early months of her pregnancy."

"This isn't a little discomfort."

"Then let the healer handle it. That's what she's there for."

He glanced at his phone again.

A memory surfaced unexpectedly: Vanessa standing in their kitchen three weeks earlier, holding a tiny shopping bag behind her back.

She had smiled when he entered.

"I bought something for the baby."

He had barely looked up from his laptop.

"That's nice, sweetheart."

She had waited for him to ask what it was.

He never did.

Now he wondered what had been inside that bag.

The thought irritated him. Guilt was an inconvenient emotion, particularly when there was nothing he could do with it.

"Give me ten minutes," he said.

Arabella released his hand.

"Of course."

But when he reached for the contract, she moved the papers closer to him.

"Sign first."

At the hospital, Vanessa woke to the sound of someone calling her name.

"Vanessa? Can you hear me?"

She opened her eyes.

The lights above her were painfully bright, and her mouth felt dry. A thin tube ran beneath her nose. Her body seemed distant, heavy, as though she were trapped beneath water.

Dr. Selene stood beside the bed, examining a monitor.

Vanessa tried to sit up.

"My baby?"

Selene immediately placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Please, don't move yet."

"Where is my baby?"

The healer's fingers tightened around the edge of the chart.

Vanessa noticed.

"No." Her voice cracked. "Don't look at me like that."

"Vanessa, you've lost a lot of blood. We need to keep you stable."

"I'm asking about my baby."

Selene pulled a chair closer to the bed.

For several seconds, neither woman spoke.

Then Selene took Vanessa's hand.

"I'm sorry."

The words were quiet.

They were also final.

Vanessa stared at her.

"No."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, you can't say that." Vanessa shook her head, but the movement made the room spin. "You said you were trying. You said-"

"We did everything we could."

Vanessa pulled her hand away.

A small, broken sound escaped her throat. She pressed both hands over her stomach, as if she could protect the child through sheer refusal to accept what had happened.

"Please bring my baby back."

Selene's eyes filled with tears.

Vanessa began to sob.

She cried until her chest hurt, until her throat burned, until the nurse standing near the door quietly turned away.

She had imagined motherhood in small, ordinary moments.

A sleepy baby against her shoulder.

Tiny fingers wrapped around hers.

Lorenzo complaining about sleepless nights while secretly taking the child from her arms so she could rest.

She had imagined all of it.

Now there was only silence.

After some time, Vanessa wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Did you reach Lorenzo?"

Selene hesitated.

"I contacted his office."

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He was informed of your condition."

Vanessa waited.

The room seemed to grow colder.

"He didn't come," she whispered.

Selene said nothing.

Vanessa turned her face toward the window. Rain streaked the glass, blurring the lights outside into pale smudges.

Five years of marriage.

Five years of defending him, standing beside him, and convincing herself that his distance was temporary.

She had told herself that once they had a child, something would change.

That perhaps Lorenzo would finally look at her and see more than a convenient wife.

Her fingers curled around the blanket.

She had been wrong.

At eleven forty-seven, Lorenzo finally signed the last page.

Arabella gathered the documents with a satisfied smile.

"Congratulations, Alpha. Castellano Holdings has officially secured the agreement."

He barely responded.

His phone was vibrating again.

This time, the caller ID displayed Dr. Selene Ward.

He answered immediately.

"Selene. How is Vanessa?"

There was a pause.

"She is stable."

Lorenzo exhaled.

"Good. Why didn't you tell me that earlier? Your messages made it sound as though she was dying."

"She was in critical condition."

"But she's stable now."

"Yes."

He stood, reaching for his jacket.

"Fine. I'll come by in the morning."

"Alpha Lorenzo."

Something in Selene's tone stopped him.

"What?"

"Your wife lost the baby."

The words struck him with unexpected force.

For a moment, he could hear nothing else.

Arabella's smile faded.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Vanessa's pregnancy could not be saved. She is grieving, and she needs support."

Lorenzo gripped the phone.

He remembered Vanessa's voice earlier that evening.

It's your child too.

He had dismissed her because he believed there would be time later.

Now there would be no later for the child they had been waiting to meet.

"Why didn't you call me sooner?"

The question left his mouth before he could consider its cruelty.

Selene went silent.

Then she answered, her voice colder than before.

"I called you repeatedly. I sent messages. I asked your office to reach you. You were informed, Alpha."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened.

"I had an important meeting."

"And Vanessa had an emergency."

"I understand that."

"Do you?" Selene asked. "Because your wife spent the most frightening hours of her life asking for you."

He had no answer.

After the call ended, he remained standing beside the table, the signed contract forgotten beneath his hand.

Arabella approached cautiously.

"Lorenzo?"

He looked at her.

For the first time that night, she seemed unsure of what to say.

"You should go home," she suggested. "Get some rest. You'll be able to speak to Vanessa tomorrow when she's calmer."

He slipped his phone into his pocket.

"I'm going to the hospital."

Arabella's face hardened.

"After everything we've accomplished tonight?"

"My child is dead, Arabella."

The words silenced her.

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

But before he could reach it, his phone rang again.

It was his security chief.

"Alpha, you need to return to the office."

"Not now."

"It's about Mrs. Castellano."

Lorenzo stopped.

"What about her?"

The security chief lowered his voice.

"Someone has accessed the restricted financial archives. Several accounts connected to Castellano Holdings have been frozen, and the system is flagging a name we've never seen before."

Lorenzo's fingers tightened around the phone.

"What name?"

There was a brief pause.

Then the man answered.

"Vanessa Crowe."

Lorenzo went completely still.

Crowe?

His wife had always introduced herself as Vanessa Castellano after their marriage. He knew she came from a modest family and had distant relatives in the north, but she had never mentioned anyone with the influence to freeze his company's accounts.

"Check again," he ordered. "My wife has nothing to do with those accounts."

"Sir, there's something else."

"What?"

"The accounts have been funding Castellano Holdings for years. The records indicate that the original investments came from a private trust registered under the Crowe family."

Lorenzo stared at the phone.

Across the room, Arabella had stopped gathering her things.

She had heard the name.

And for the first time that evening, she looked frightened.