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The Alpha Brothers'Shared Mate

Dong Lier

5.0

Werewolf

10 Chapters

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Three days after our eight-month-old son died, I dragged my shattered soul to my husband's office, desperately seeking comfort. Instead, I found my Alpha husband, Brice, half-naked on his leather couch, with my stepsister Heather sitting intimately on his lap. The heavy, sickening scent of their freshly mated bond filled the room. When I stood there, paralyzed by betrayal, Brice didn't show a single ounce of guilt. He coldly told me that our sacred mate bond was a mistake from day one, and that Heather was the Luna he truly needed. What broke me completely wasn't just the cheating. When I asked him about our dead baby, he sneered. "I never wanted that pup. His birth was a goddamn accident, and his death is on your hands!" My entire universe exploded. The man I loved, the Alpha whose empire was built entirely on my family's legacy, didn't care that our child was in the ground. He was using my darkest, most agonizing grief as a weapon to destroy me, while my stepsister watched with a triumphant smile. The freezing numbness in my veins boiled into pure rage. I swung my hand and slapped the Alpha straight across his face. As he lunged forward, wrapping his massive hands around my throat with murderous intent, I didn't beg for mercy. I looked straight into his soulless eyes and spoke the ultimate taboo. "I, Florence George, reject you, Brice Rosales, as my mate."

The Alpha Brothers'Shared Mate Chapter 1

JOSLYN POV:

I carefully scraped the organic pumpkin puree into a delicate porcelain baby bowl. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse apartment, casting warm patches of light across the expensive marble countertop.

I hummed an off-key lullaby, imagining how my little Ollie would wave his tiny fists when he saw this meal. Even though he was only eight months old, he was the center of my entire world.

My phone vibrated against the marble. The screen lit up, displaying: "Dr. Hayes - Children's Hospital PICU."

My stomach dropped. The humming died in my throat.

I took a deep breath, wiped my hands on a towel, and answered the call. I forced my voice to stay steady. "Dr. Hayes, how is Ollie? Did his fever go down?"

A long, suffocating silence stretched across the line. All I could hear was the faint hiss of static. That silence terrified me more than any bad news ever could.

Dr. Hayes finally spoke, his voice cracked with exhaustion and defeat. "Joslyn... I am so sorry. We did everything humanly possible. His body temperature spiked beyond anything our equipment could register, and his organs... they shut down completely. We lost him ten minutes ago."

My brain went entirely blank. My fingers went numb, and the phone slipped from my grasp. It hit the marble floor with a sharp, sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of glass. Just like my heart.

I didn't cry. I didn't even scream. A massive, hollow numbness swallowed me whole. I stared blankly at the golden pumpkin puree in the bowl. The bright color suddenly made me nauseous.

My first coherent thought was Brad. My husband. The father of our baby. I needed him.

I stumbled forward, my knees weak, and picked up the broken phone. The glass bit into my fingertips, but I could still barely read the screen.

I dialed the number saved under "Husband." The receiver fed me a cold, repetitive dialing tone. No one answered.

I refused to give up. I dialed again. This time, it rang half a second before clicking straight to voicemail. He actively declined the call. My knuckles turned white from gripping the device so hard.

Desperation clawing at my throat, I switched tactics and dialed his executive office suite.

His personal secretary answered after two rings. It was that woman with a voice always as polished and emotionless as an algorithm. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Key. Mr. Key is in an executive boardroom session and cannot be disturbed."

"Put him on the line right now," I choked out, my voice trembling violently. "It's an emergency. It's about Ollie-"

"I am well aware of what you are going to say, ma'am," she cut in, her tone dripping with polite condescension. "Mr. Key explicitly left instructions before entering the conference room. He stated that if you called using the baby's fever or another medical scare as an excuse to demand his presence, under no circumstances should the call be transferred."

The room seemed to tilt beneath my bare feet. "What did you say?"

"He said Key Corp is finalizing a multi-billion-dollar merger today, and he will not tolerate any dramatic domestic interruptions. Stop calling, Mrs. Key."

Click.

The line went dead. She had hung up on me.

He had actually anticipated my call. While our child was taking his final breath in intensive care, my husband had taken the time to instruct his staff to lock me out like a manipulative, hysterical nuisance. He thought I was just lying. He thought I was playing games.

A wild, suffocating sound ripped from my throat.

I violently swept my arm across the counter. The porcelain bowl flew off the edge and shattered against the floor, splattering the golden puree everywhere like sickening vomit.

The agony broke through the numbness, transforming instantly into pure, venomous rage. I sank to the floor amidst the mess, letting out one choked, animalistic sob before my tears dried up completely.

I stared at the ruined puree and the shattered porcelain. I wasn't going to send him a text message. I wasn't going to let him dismiss our son's death through a five-inch screen.

I pushed myself up, stepping straight past the ceramic shards near my feet. I strode into the walk-in closet.

I stripped off my loungewear and pulled on a sharply tailored black dress-the armor I wore to corporate galas when I had to play the CEO's perfect trophy.

My attorney and the trust are seeing to Ollie's body. Only when I've cut down the mastermind with my own hands will I go and collect him.

The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected a woman who had just lost her baby but was turning her grief into pure, unadulterated rage.

I stepped into the underground garage and got into my Maserati. The roar of the engine was the only sound I wanted to hear right now.

I slammed my foot on the gas pedal. The sports car shot out of the garage like an arrow, merging aggressively into the city traffic.

I didn't even need to set the GPS. Destination: Key Corp Tower. I was going to walk right into his office and ask him to his face what exactly was so "very important" in his world.