Escaping with the Alpha

The CEO's Regret: Chasing My Runaway Doctor

Ola Wilde

Vivian was eight weeks pregnant, holding the warm ultrasound picture, ready to share the fragile secret with her billionaire husband, Sterling. But before she could speak, he tossed a thick document onto the marble table: DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. "Kara's back," he stated coldly, referring to his childhood sweetheart. "I'm giving her the place she deserves." He demanded she vacate the penthouse immediately, leaving with absolutely nothing. She didn't cry or beg. She signed the papers, touched her flat stomach where his secret child grew, and walked out in her old trench coat. She blocked his number, vanished from New York, and spent the next four years building a new life in Geneva as a top-tier surgeon, raising their twin boys entirely alone. She thought she had finally escaped her past, until Sterling's bodyguards suddenly broke down her apartment door in the middle of the night. He had used his immense wealth and power to force the "genius Dr. Vivian" to treat Kara's ruined uterus. He was completely unaware that the masked, heavily accented doctor he was threatening was his discarded wife, or that his own flesh and blood were sleeping just down the hall. Watching him desperately lavish a manipulative liar with the tenderness he had always denied her, the last thread of Vivian's lingering pain simply vanished. She sent a single, encrypted text to a trusted friend. "The boys are safe. I'm ready to start Phase Two." She was done hiding. It was time to show him how a real war was fought.

Romance Doctor Hidden Identities Billionaire Revenge Pregnancy

Download the Book on the App

Vivian POV

The sterile, bleach-heavy air of the Pack-affiliated medical center on the Upper East Side did nothing to calm my racing heart. I sat on the edge of the examination table, my hands tightly gripping the crinkling paper beneath me.

Dr. Smith, the senior Pack Doctor, stood before me with an unmarked folder. Her usually warm eyes were clouded with a deep, terrifying gravity.

"You are pregnant, Luna," she said softly.

For a fraction of a second, a desperate spark of hope ignited in my chest. A pup. An heir. Maybe this was the miracle I needed to bridge the freezing chasm between me and my husband, Alpha Julian Sterling. Maybe a child of his own blood would finally awaken his dormant mate instincts and make him look at me as more than just a political obligation.

But Dr. Smith didn't smile. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hushed, urgent whisper. "Vivian, you must listen to me. This is an extremely dangerous pregnancy. You are a wolfless Omega. You don't have the accelerated healing or the physical resilience of a shifted wolf." She paused, her words heavy with dread. "The pup's Alpha blood will be a fire your body may not be able to contain. Any severe emotional distress or physical trauma could be catastrophic for both of you."

The spark of hope instantly turned to ash, replaced by a suffocating terror. My body was a fragile vessel carrying a raging inferno. If the Pack Elders—the very people who despised my "tainted" bloodline—found out about this vulnerability, they would strip this child from me, or worse, terminate it to protect the Alpha's legacy.

"No one can know," I breathed out, my voice trembling but resolute. I looked up, meeting Dr. Smith's eyes. "Not the Elders. And especially not Julian. Keep this completely off the Pack records. I will pay for everything in cash, from my personal accounts."

Dr. Smith hesitated, torn between her duty to the Alpha and her oath as a healer. But seeing the fierce, desperate plea of a mother in my eyes, she slowly nodded.

Hours later, I stood alone in the cavernous, echoing space of the VIP private terminal at the Sterling Pack's airfield.

Because I was wolfless, I was deaf to the Pack's *Mind-Link*. I had to rely on human flight trackers just to discover that my own husband was returning from Europe a day early. I had come here to surprise him, clinging to the foolish fantasy that I could still save our dying mate-bond.

But the terminal was empty. The sleek black private jet sat on the tarmac, its engines already cooling.

Read Now