Carrying the Alpha’s Heir: From Surrogate to Luna | Read Free Preview

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Chapter 1 — My Life Is Ruined

Fleya Garner’s POV
Clutching a delicate navy-blue gift box, I hurried toward the home I shared with Dylan Frith.
We met on this very day two years ago.
Dylan was the love of my life—tall, handsome, gentle, considerate, and he never cared that I was an abandoned orphan. Whenever we were close, there was an addictive scent on him I couldn’t describe. I thought that must be the magic of love.
I wanted more than anything to build a new family with him, to have our own child.
I softened my steps as I reached the front door.
From the balcony above I heard Dylan’s booming laugh—followed by a breathy, sweet female voice drifting.
“Baby, when are you breaking up with that seamstress?”
I froze.
“She’s worn me out. I only slept with her because I was curious how nimble a seamstress’s hands would be.”
They laughed boisterously.
Kelly?
Kelly Winbury?
Dylan’s big-chested secretary? Every time I went to his office, I felt the way she looked at me was off.
So they’d been fooling around all along.
Humiliation crashed over me like waves.
Two whole years—he’d been playing me.
“And the funniest part is, she keeps wanting to have my baby. She’s always in my ears—‘imagine a child with your eyes and my mouth.’ Ridiculous.”
“Hilarious. What makes her think she’s fit to bear a pup for an Alpha werewolf?” Kelly’s voice was laced with scorn.
Dylan is a werewolf—he isn’t even human like me.
There are werewolves in my world, yes, but there are strict rules for how our two races interact, and personally, I’d barely dealt with them.
Thinking back, Dylan is taller than most men, and he always carried that scent—but I never suspected.
“She’s not worthy. So I used Lunaria. That black-market contraceptive gel. She thought it was post-shower body lotion.” Dylan sounded smug.
“Use that on a human and she won’t need to worry about pregnancy for the rest of her life.”
They laughed again.
So much was said in only a couple of sentences and it made my head spin.
My so-called two-year romance was nothing.
The man I wanted to build a family with had poisoned me so I could never conceive.
Tears flooded my eyes. My hands shook and the box slipped to the ground.
I rushed into the garden, twisted the spigot, grabbed the hose, and lifted it high. A torrent exploded, drenching the balcony.
“Hey? Who—? Fleya, are you crazy?”
Soaked through, Dylan clung to the railing, shielding himself from the spray. He yelled down at me.
“Fuck you!” I screamed back. “Dylan, listen—today I’m dumping you. Because I’ve got a new boyfriend—richer, hotter, and way better in bed than you. You can’t hold a candle to him!”
“Damn it! What did you say? You’re dumping me for another man? You have no idea who I am!” Dylan wiped water from his face, completely pissed .
Kelly kept shrieking, clutching his arm, but he shoved her off.
I aimed the water straight at his face. He stumbled, nearly went down on the balcony.
I laughed. “Alpha werewolf? All I see is a drenched, pathetic mutt.”
He lost it. “You insignificant human ant—how dare you disrespect me? Letting you get in my bed was merely charity!”
“Was it?” I sneered. “I’m not interested. We’re finished. And I’m telling everyone your so-called Alpha ‘dick’ isn’t as big as the sausage in a burger.”
“You dare—” Dylan braced on the rail, eyes bulging as if he’d leap at me the next second.
“Fleya, I’m warning you—I’ll make you lose everything in Ashland. I’ll have you on your knees begging for my forgiveness.”
I ignored his threats, lifted the hose, and sent a glittering mist arcing through the air once more.
After venting my rage, I went to the hospital.
As decisive as I’d been leaving him, I was anxiously laying in the exam bed now.
White walls, white floors, state-of-the-art machines—everything reminded me that I was in Ashland’s best women’s hospital: Elaria Maternity & Fertility Center, a place that catered to society’s upper class clients.
It was my first time here. I knew I would incur a massive bill, but there was no turning back. I needed a thorough assessment immediately and couldn’t wait in a public queue. And perhaps here, I could learn the truth about Lunaria.
“How old are you?” The female doctor’s voice was cool as she pulled on gloves, and inserted the ultrasound probe between my legs.
“Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six? Impossible.” Her brows drew together. “Your ovaries look like a woman on the brink of menopause.”
“What?” I almost shot upright, but her hand pressed me back down.
“Lie still. Let me take another look. Have you taken any medication?”
“Medication…?” My tongue tripped, but I forced out a word through my teeth. “Lunaria.”
Her crow’s-feet eyes widened as she looked me up and down. “Are you a prostitute?”
“A prostitute? No, I’m not! But—but I did have a werewolf boyfriend.” Shame enveloped me completely and I felt my cheeks burn.
“You’re naïve. When has a werewolf ever treated a human like a girlfriend?” She snorted.
“As for Lunaria, it’s a were—” She coughed and rephrased. “It’s a high-class contraceptive used to prevent low-status women from getting pregnant. Partners don’t use it with each other.”
She put the probe away; she’d found the problem and didn’t need to continue.
I clenched the paper on the table until it nearly shredded.
Dylan Frith had treated me like a whore—used me and wrecked my body without a shred of mercy. Rage and hatred flooded me. But what good were they now?
“Will I ever be able to have children?” I asked, clinging to the littlest bit of hope.
“Virtually impossible.”
It felt like all the blood in my veins turned to ice.

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Chapter 2 — My Only Chance To Get Pregnant

Fleya Garner’s POV
That night, in Ashland’s most popular upscale bar, La Lune Noire, I sobbed in Claire’s arms as if my insides were being torn apart.
Claire Wilson and I grew up in the same neighborhood. She was four years older and always looked out for me like a sister. Now she owned La Lune Noire.
I cried into her shoulder.
“Two years—he toyed with me for two whole years. He used Lunaria—that’s poison! He destroyed my life, ground all my hopes to dust. I want to kill him! You know how much I’ve wanted a real family, how much I love kids. But now…” A thousand vicious words clogged in my throat, but no curse could reverse my aging ovaries.
“I can never be a mother.” I let out a raw howl.
“Wait—don’t give up so easily.” Claire suddenly gasped, snatching my report from the table.
“There’s a note—look: ps: imaging shows a nearly fully developed follicle. You still have a chance this month!”
I grabbed the report, wiped my tears, and read it again and again.
“Right. I’m ovulating. I still have a chance—maybe my last.” I looked at Claire, hope flaring, then my expression fell. “But I need a man.”
Claire slung an arm around me and winked, a sly smile curving her lips. “At La Lune Noire, you can have any handsome man you want. No need to waste time on feelings—just enjoy them and use them.”
I pushed her hand away. “Claire, I only get one shot. I can’t waste it. I won’t tolerate my child having a drunk’s or a junkie’s genes. No way.”
“Genes, huh?” She tapped her chin with a slender finger. “Then you don’t need a man—you need sperm. I do know a place. You can get the ideal genes and an easy path to pregnancy.”
My eyes lit up; I felt like I had been drowning, but finally grabbed a lifesaver.
I reached for her hand.
“Tell me about it, I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
Holding Claire’s business card, I stood before a shabby gray-white building in the old quarter and swallowed hard.
A metal plaque above the glass door read Dr. Morgan GynCare. The capital “G” had fallen off, leaving a gray shadow.
Was there really a doctor here? Did this Dr. Morgan even have a license? My stomach churned with anxiety.
When I finally met Dr. Morgan, my doubts peaked—it was a man.
Tousled brown curls, deep furrows across his brow. He cut me a cold glance. “Ovulating?”
I forced a smile and nodded.
“Claire already called. You’re her best friend; I’m to provide you with our best expertise. give. Tell me—what kind of man do you want?”
I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling. “I hope he’s tall and powerful, brilliant, has beautiful green eyes, a handsome, sexy face, gentle and considerate, and…”
“That’s enough. I get it—you want the perfect man.”
My cheeks burned. “The child’s father,” I corrected.
“Come with me.”
After a maze-like dim stairwell, we reached the basement.
He pushed open a heavy door—and I stared at a gleaming, ivory-white operating room. A massive shadowless lamp hung over a smart surgical bed; instruments around the room winked with soft lights.
I rubbed my eyes hard.
I wasn’t hallucinating . A high-end operating room hidden beneath a run-down building.
Dr. Morgan shut the door and tossed me a set of scrubs. “Change.”
He turned to a cold locker and took out a slim vial. Under the lights, it shimmered with a mysterious blue glow.
“Fresh delivery. The sperm you asked for—the perfect man.” He admired the vial like art. “Lie down. Thawed samples must be used immediately or they lose viability.”
“Wait—this fast?” Sweat beaded on my brow. “I don’t even know who the donor is.”
His big hand pressed me to the bed. “Spread your legs. I promise you, no one could be more perfect. I ordered this for you—for Claire.”
“Ordered? You bought it? From where?”
He was already between my knees; his head vanished beneath the drape. I could only see his gloved hand lifting that faintly blue-glowing vial.
“Do you want a child or not?” His head reared back up, a few curls poking from his cap. “I don’t have all day.”
I sat up and gripped his wrist, voice trembling . “Dr. Morgan, my ovaries have been condemned. Today might be my last chance. Do you—do you promise I’ll have a strong, healthy baby?”
He met my eyes bright with tears , and spoke with a low voice. “I gave Claire my word.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. Laying back down , I clutched the rails.
A coldness crept into me.
After I got home, I slept the whole day, completely exhausted. When I woke, I was still like I could go on sleeping forever.
Following Dr. Morgan’s instructions, I decided to close my shop downstairs and rest while I spent the next two weeks waiting for results.
Late that morning, a heavy pounding rattled my door.
“Ms. Fleya Garner, your property has been seized.” A middle-aged man with a little mustache shoved a piece of paper into my arms. “Court notice.”
“What? Impossible. Garner Tailoring House has been on this street for fifty years. We’ve never missed taxes or had disputes with clients.” I glanced at his uniform. “Officer, you must be mistaken.”
“No mistake. Today’s the deadline. You have thirty minutes to vacate.”
Two men behind him pushed through my glass door. Minutes later, my suitcase and belongings were tossed outside.
“No! You’re savages—mafia!” I flailed, snatching up my wallet.
“Twenty-nine minutes,” the officer said coolly. He eyed my wallet. “And I nearly forgot—your accounts are frozen by court order during the investigation.”
“What?! No—there has to be a mistake.” I tried to think. I had to understand what had happened.
Hands shaking, I read the notice:
“…as guarantor for a fifty-thousand-dollar loan secured against Garner Tailoring House at No. 51 Beaumont Street.”
Impossible. I never guaranteed any loan. Wait—
A memory flashed.
Dylan, voice sugar-sweet, holding a document as I lay in bed:
“There’s a promising investment. Just sign here and leave the rest to me.”
Fuck him.
He conned me out of my property—just like he said.
He really did make me lose everything in Ashland.

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Chapter 3 — Am I Really Going To Lose Everything?

Fleya Garner’s POV
My personal items lay scattered on the ground. A heavy lock hung on the door to my shop. I stamped the pavement, scooped up what I could, tossed it into my car, and drove straight to the Frith Group tower, its side clad in glass with a giant red F.
I strode into the lobby, eyes flicking for a way in. Two young men stood chatting with cups of coffee in their hands; one swung a blue access badge by its lanyard.
I passed without expression and, in a blur, hooked the lanyard out of his hand.
“Hey? Who—”
By the time his shout rose, I’d slipped through the turnstiles with the crowd, heading for the elevators.
At the top floor, I went for the office at the end of the hall.
More than once he’d pushed me across that desk, yanking up my skirt.
Kelly, the secretary, sprang up, flustered.
I closed the distance and slapped her hard before she could speak.
She shrieked.
I strode past and shoved open the brown door.
Dylan sat behind his broad desk—gray pinstripe suit, slicked-back hair, immaculate. Anyone would praise his looks and elite bearing.
Right now, his face made me sick.
I strode to the desk and slapped the court notice down. “What is this?”
He blinked, then feigned nonchalance as he reached for his phone. “Ms. Garner, you’ve trespassed. I’ll call security.”
I pinned his wrist and scoffed. “Half a year ago, you tricked me into signing a collateral guarantee. We hadn’t even broken up—you were already setting me up. Color me surprised—Mr. Top Fund Manager is so short on cash he’d even embezzle his girlfriend’s property.”
His brows knit. His gaze flicked past me, startled, uneasy.
“I’m going to sue you!” Fury roared in my head and I barely noticed where he was looking.
He tugged at his tie and cleared his throat. “Ms. Garner, I don’t understand. You were never my girlfriend.”
“Liar! Half a year ago, this was how you controlled me, how you threatened me, wasn’t it? To make me your anytime—”
The words died in my throat as shame and rage consumed me. I was never his girlfriend—just a plaything, a sex partner, a slave at his beck and call.
“Careful, Ms. Garner. You’re defaming me.” His voice went cold.
His outright denial blew the last fuse.
I drew a slender tailor’s scissor from my bag and stabbed the desk between his fingers. Dylan jerked. “Fleya, you—”
“So you do remember my name. If you don’t explain today, you will lose a finger.”
Clapping sounded behind me.
I froze. I hadn’t realized someone else was here.
I turned slowly and saw a man taller and broader than Dylan rising from a sofa against the wall and he made his way toward me.
Perfect bone structure. Strong, dark brows. Green eyes. Sensual, slightly thin lips.
I swayed for a second.
An image flashed—Dr. Morgan asking about my ideal man in that underground operating room . The face I’d described…almost matched this man’s.
“What a show,” the stranger said, stopping at the desk. His gaze turned icy when he looked at Dylan. “Mr. Frith, you just assured me your company has nothing shady going on. Yet what this young lady said makes me question your firm’s credibility.”
“No, Mr. Wright—please let me explain. I did have a relationship with this woman, but that guarantee was done with her full knowledge.” Dylan’s tone was slightly frantic.
“Liar!” I yanked the scissor free and jabbed at him, knowing I couldn’t hurt him—Alpha werewolves are strong and devastating—but I was too furious to care.
Dylan slipped aside; the stranger was faster. His hand clamped my wrist with enough force to crush bone. And the scissors clattered to the floor.
“Don’t be impulsive,” he said, looking at me.
Then his nostrils flared, his thick brows furrowed and the cool mask shifted to startled confusion. “You—you’re pregnant?”
I was too stunned to move. My lips shook. “What did you say? How could you possibly know?”
How many days since the insemination?
My mind raced. Twelve. It’s been twelve days.
Am I really… Did it work?
I pressed my palm to my lower abdomen, focusing everything there.
Something seemed to stir, slowly curling through my insides. Nausea hit; I leaned on the desk and a pair of big hands steadied me.
Dylan blanched. He muttered, “Mr. Wright, how do you know?”
“You’ve never heard of my reputation? I’m the most perceptive Alpha,” Mr. Wright said.
“Impossible. She can’t be pregnant.” Dylan looked rattled.
My eyes darted between them—two Alpha werewolves discussing my pregnancy?
Mr. Wright snorted. “It’s obvious you don’t want your girlfriend pregnant. Relax—it isn’t your child.”
“No,” Dylan shot back, lifting his chin. “If she’s pregnant, it can only be mine. You don’t get to decide that. I’m the only man she’s had. She wouldn’t betray me.”
I stared at him, floored by his shamelessness.
“Dylan Frith, you have no right to question her,” Mr. Wright said, voice turning glacial. “From this day forward, she’s my woman.”
I gaped, instinctively yanked my arm free, and backed away, then turned and ran for the door.
A figure flashed to block my path.
The man before me was tall and breathtaking, his expression utterly cold.
“I don’t know you, Mr. Wright,” I said, trembling.
He clearly wasn’t interested in explanations. He seized my arm. “You’re coming with me.”
I fought to break free, every instinct screaming he was stronger and more dangerous than Dylan. “No—let me go. You have no right—”
In an instant, he wrenched my hands behind me and slung me over his shoulder.
“No one disobeys my orders.”

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