Page 12 of The CEO Alpha’s Substitute Mate

Damien says nothing for three or four seconds. “What about the woman?” he asks.

I look up at a third-floor window with the light still burning in it.

I part my lips and then close them. After a beat, I say tightly, “Find me everything on Ariela Reyes and her sister. And Petrov will bring you his hair. Get a paternity test done.”

“Why do you need a paternity test?” My beta sounds bewildered. “Doesn’t he smell like you?”

“He has my scent, but the woman raising him is human, and she doesn’t know what he is.”

“So just eliminate her and take the boy.”

My eyes linger on the silhouette now in the window, and I say slowly, “Nobody touch her. Not yet.”

Chapter 3

Ariela

Luca’s fever hasn’t come back.

I watch him sleep from my spot on the floor, but my heart isn’t at ease.

My laptop is open on the floor beside me with eleven tabs along the top of it. Callum Vance is no ordinary businessman. He’s the founder and CEO of Vance Dynamics, a multifaceted company. What they do is so technical that I couldn’t even understand it despite spending hours poring over article after article. All I can tell is that the man is a billionaire and lost his wife eight years ago.

There’s nothing else about him online. The man leads an intensely private life.

Of all the people to cross, why would you choose Callum Vance, Maya?

I bury my head in my hands, my thoughts a tangled mess. Now I’ve been dragged into it, and the price I will pay is going to be my heart. Because there’s no denying it. Luca is a mini copy of the billionaire who stood in my kitchen mere hours ago, and now that I know who he is, I’m sure it’s hopeless. I don’t have the resources to go against a man like Callum Vance.

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes until red comes up behind the lids. It isn’t a question of if he takes him. It’s a question of when.

Luca makes a small noise and rolls over on his side. I scramble over to him and stroke his hair. “I’m right here, baby.”

He surfaces slowly, blinking at me with his eyes half stuck together. “Mom.”

“How do you feel?” My voice is hoarse. “Tell me the truth. Head, tummy, anything hurting?”

He yawns and then rubs his eyes. “I’m hungry.”

I put the back of my hand to his cheek, and he’s cool. The fever still isn’t back. Relief fills me, followed closely by a wave of grief.

“Okay.” I push his hair back gently. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth, baby. I’ll get something started.”

In the kitchen, I turn the radio on low and cook the whole cupboard. The last three eggs go into the pan. I pull the flour down for pancakes, which I make maybe twice a year because the good syrup is six dollars. Today I open the good syrup. There’s half a jar of raspberry jam behind the rice that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. I cut the strawberries into the little wedges he likes and put the whole thing on the blue plate that got chipped at Christmas and is his favorite plate in the world.

Because this might be his last breakfast with me.

I checked every online platform for legal advice and called four lawyers whose hours were around the clock for a free consultation. From every direction, I received the same answer. An adoption granted on a birth certificate with no father named comes apart the moment a biological father establishes paternity, particularly where fraud went into the original filing. It doesn’t matter if I raised Luca; I am not his biological mother. And if there was a surrogacy contract, then Luca’s father has guardianship. The adoption falls apart. I lose my baby. The most sympathetic lawyer was the only one to offer me what she thought was a glimmer of hope. She said if I could prove I had no hand in whatever my sister did, I might, eventually, with a good enough attorney, secure monthly visitation.

I stand over the pan with the spatula in my hand, watching the edges of a pancake go brown, and I think about seeing my son twelve times a year. My eyes burn with unshed tears. A sound nearly escapes me, but I press my lips together, holding it in. He’s going to take my baby from me, and there’s nothing I can do, no one I can turn to.

“Mom?”

I quickly blink away my tears and turn around to see Luca standing in the doorway with his hair standing up on one side. He climbs into his chair and looks at me, his brows drawing together.

“Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.” I put the pancakes down in front of him and kiss the top of his head so he can’t see me. “It’s allergies. The building’s got that dust in the vents again.”