The Hero Husband's Cruel Betrayal

gs. Her interventions usually ended up with me in situations I hadn't quite pl

ith an almost manic excitement. "Greyson Baker. The Al

existed. But Jillian, ever the strategist, had her ways. She was a master at orchestrating 'chance'

essing a small, unmarked vial into my hand. "It'll lower y

my stomach churning. "Jillian,

. You'll thank me later when you're Mrs. Greyson Baker.

aw Greyson. He was across the room, talking to a group of admirers, his charisma a palpable force. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, met mine. And so

nded, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. He reached for my hand, his touch sending a jolt

voice, muffled, from the other side. "Have fun, lov

ng through the drug-induced haze. "Jillian! Let m

ar intensity. "Annette," he murmured, his voic

tests died on my lips. My body responded to his touch, a primal yearning I hadn't known existed. The n

Greyson was already dressed, his uniform immaculate, his face a mask of cold indif

evoid of emotion. He didn't look at me, his gaze fixed

a man of action rather than words. I told myself this was his way of showing affection, of h

last guest left, I overheard him talking on the phone in the study. The

Used one of those infernal pheromone drugs. Disgust

every illusion I had built. His voice was filled with such contempt, such raw hatr

nable to move, unable to speak, the truth a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. Before I could explain, before I c

long years, I raised Karter alone, a single mother haunted by a ghost of a husband. His alph

d like a perfect, ready-made family, slotting themselves into the l

o acknowledge his real family. But it was like hitting a wall, a cold, impenetrabl

suppressed, threatened to boil over. But Karter was still recovering, his small body r

g despite my efforts to keep it stead

ing to Kennedy's leg. "Emil needs me more," he said, his voice clipped. H

o my palms. The casual cruelty of his words, the p

I insisted, my voice rising a

re cold, devoid of warmth. "And Emil needs me more. He's fragile, Annette. Don

, and he was worried about Emil's comfort? The dam broke. All the years of neg

e you stand there and say that? Karter is your son! He almost died

ur country. That's a debt I have to repay." He stepped forward, his eyes blazing, and a cold wave of his alpha pr

ugh it, leaving me strangely clear-headed. "Petty? My son nearly die

ong. He'll be fine. Unlike

. It had been stretched thin, frayed by years of neglect, but now it snapped, a sharp, painful

this path alone, raising our son, clinging to a ghost. And for what? For this man to retu

ed, let out a soft

ady bleeding heart. My son, still yea

out the dissolution papers, the ones I had printed months ago, bu

erate hope for his father. The pen hovered over the line. Could I really sever this, even if it mea