My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 116: The End of an Act ( Damian’s POV )

Chapter 116: The End of an Act ( Damian’s POV )

"No."

"Lucrezia..."

"Watch your mouth, brat!"

"Auntie..."

"How could you be so stupid? You are almost thirty years old, do you not know how to use a rubber?"

"Madam Akna..."

"I don’t want to hear a word from you! Opening your legs like a wh*re!"

That’s quite aggressive, old hag. I understand that you need to sell the act in front of your nephew, but no need to degrade me like that.

Nonetheless, it was working.

Killian’s face tightened, every muscle sharp with tension.

His jaw clenched so hard the bone stood out in harsh lines.

His lips pressed together in a hard, bloodless line, and his nostrils flared as he pulled in short, uneven breaths.

His eyes locked on Lucrezia, and they burned with something raw, stripped of his usual calm.

His shoulders were rigid, drawn back as if holding himself in place, his hands curling into fists until his knuckles whitened.

A vein pulsed in his temple, throbbing harder with every passing second.

He looked ready to snap, his body coiled tight like a wire about to break.

I watched the worry bleed into that anger.

It sat heavy in his gaze, shadowing the fury with something fragile and desperate.

His eyes shifted toward me for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to see it there—the fear, the silent panic clawing at him.

His chest rose and fell faster now, the rhythm harsh and uneven, his throat working as he swallowed down words he couldn’t release.

His fingers opened and closed at his sides like he didn’t know whether to reach for me or hold himself back.

Across from him, Lucrezia stood rigid, her face locked in a scowl.

The smoothness of her skin looked wrong under the harsh light, stretched too tight, her expression carved by a hand that was not nature’s.

Botox froze the fine lines, but it couldn’t hide the anger burning in her eyes or the thin tremor running through her mouth.

Her jaw worked as she pressed her teeth together, lips pulled in a thin curve that wasn’t quite a smile.

Her chin tilted upward, cold and dismissive, and the diamonds at her ears quivered with the movement of her head.

The room was thick with their silence.

Killian’s breaths came louder now, rough through his nose, while Lucrezia’s stayed slow and deliberate, as if control alone could win this battle.

She didn’t look at me.

Not once.

Her gaze stayed fixed on him, a challenge that cut sharper than any word could.

Killian didn’t blink.

His chest heaved, his fists closed again, and the muscles in his forearms stood rigid as stone.

His throat flexed, his teeth grit together, and he didn’t move.

But he spoke.

Assertive. Demanding. Scared.

"It’s my child."

"Are you sure?"

Killian gulped.

My breath stuck into my lungs. Without intention, she struck a nerve.

As I was keeping a secret from Killian that it was her idea to get pregnant with him, I was also keeping secret from her that this showed up to not be Killian’s baby.

Because Killian was an omega in the moment of conception. And an omega can’t reproduce with another omega. No matter the primary gender.

This was Killian’s baby, nonetheless.

It truly was, no matter what the results of the paternity test were.

He was the only man I’ve ever slept with.

Except those who he made me sleep with for company gain. Or his pleasure.

But I always got my treatment right. I was never sloppy about that. I always used one type or another of protection.

Killian doesn’t believe me. No matter the mark on my neck belonging to him, he is sure the baby is not his...

"It is my child."

His hand grabbed the back of my neck, fingers pressing hard into my skin.

It hurt, and I flinched, but he didn’t stop. He moved his grip down, caught the back of my shirt, and pulled.

The fabric dug into my throat as he yanked hard.

The collar stretched until it slid down my shoulders, leaving my back bare.

The mark was out now.

I could feel it throbbing against the air, hot and sharp with every beat of my heart.

It burned where she could see it.

His claim.

His warning.

His fingers stayed tight in my shirt, holding me there like I had no choice but to stand still.

I kept my eyes on the floor.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t fight.

I let my head drop low, lashes hiding my eyes.

I made my mouth loose, my face empty, like I was ashamed.

My hands hung at my sides, open and useless.

Anything else would give me away.

My role needed to be perfect.

After all, no matter how much of the perfect omega I was, I was between two of the most powerful figures of the modern aristocracy.

And they could squash me at any time.

Without consequences.

Her breath didn’t reach me, but her stare did.

I could feel it, heavy and cold, crawling over my skin.

She didn’t speak, and that silence hurt worse than words.

The room felt smaller, tighter, and my chest burned as I pulled air in too fast.

My pulse pounded hard in my throat and under that raw spot on my neck.

It felt too loud, like she could hear it.

Please, Killian, believe this.

Her chair scraped back, sharp against the floor.

I didn’t see her move at first, only the flash of red at the edge of my vision.

Then her heel came up fast, cutting through the air.

The pointed Louboutin aimed straight for his head.

The crack of impact was loud.

Killian’s head jerked to the side, and for a second, I froze.

Blood ran down his temple, bright and sharp against his pale skin.

It slid to his jaw, then dripped onto the floor.

He didn’t flinch.

Not even once.

But then again, this was a common occurrence since we were young. Lucrezia never raised children.

She just trained them as a bunch of filthy stray dogs.

The heel slipped from her foot in the swing.

It clattered once against the tiles before he caught it in his hand.

His grip on my shirt loosened, but he didn’t look at me.

His eyes stayed on her, cold and steady, even with blood running into one.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t wipe the blood.

He bent down, slow and calm, and picked up her shoe.

His fingers wrapped around the heel, careful, almost gentle.

Then he moved toward her.

His steps were steady, no rush, no anger on the surface, even though I could feel it under his skin like heat.

She didn’t back away.

She stood there, chin high, lips pressed tight, watching him close the space between them.

He dropped to one knee without a sound, held her ankle in his blood-stained hand, and slid the shoe back on her foot.

He pressed it in place like it belonged there.

When he stood again, blood still dripping from his head, his face stayed blank.

No words.

No reaction.

"What about Wilkers’ brat? Is this the end of your big love story?"

F-ck.

She was going too far.

Killian pressed his lips together hard, holding back whatever wanted to escape.

His jaw locked tight, and his breath came sharp through his nose.

Blood still ran down his face, trailing along his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it.

His eyes burned red now, not from rage alone but from tears he refused to let fall.

They clung to the edge, bright and raw, as his chest lifted in rough, shallow breaths.

All for Luther...

Lucrezia rolled her eyes.

The sound of it wasn’t there, but I felt it—the weight of her disdain cutting deeper than the heel had.

"Don’t be pathetic! Men don’t cry! Get your act together!"

Despite all this disapproval so far being an act, these words came out resonating with truth and pure disgust.

My God, what was wrong with this hag?

She continued disregarding Killian’s state.

"It’s not me that I was sticking my d-ck in whatever moves without thinking. I had no objection when you were acting like a wh-re, but this?"

"It’s your grandchild."

Lucrezia’s humorless laughter filled the already heavy air.

Killian touched a nerve.

"You are not my son. You are just my idiotic nephew who couldn’t even pull out in time! If you were not an alpha, you would have been nothing to me! I would have left you to be eaten by rats just like your worthless mother!"

Killian’s hand grabbed my arm tight. His fingers dug into my skin as he pulled me toward the door.

His steps were fast, hard, and I had to keep up.

We were almost there when he stopped.

His body went still, stiff like a wall.

I heard her voice behind us.

Calm.

Light.

Like nothing had happened.

But something in it made the air heavy.

Killian didn’t move.

His head turned just a little. His jaw clenched hard, and I saw his hand squeeze my arm tighter.

The silence felt sharp, like something bad was about to happen.

"If you walk out that door, I’ll freeze all your accounts and lock down all the apartments and cars. Don’t test me, filthy child!"

Is this really necessary?

He believes the act. Why was she going so far?

Killian didn’t move.

But the grip of my arm got tighter. He might as well amputate my arm. It would hurt less.

"If the child is an alpha. Or a beta girl. I will accept it. Until then, a public engagement announcement will be done to save face. The last thing I need are another bunch of hungry slumps of the city dumpster claiming you left them pregnant. Even if they tell the truth."

"Is it really necessary?"

"You forfeit the right to have an opinion the moment you shoot your load into the twink next to you."

"What about the deal we made about Luther?"

What deal?

"Off the table. But whatever you do in your research is none of my business. Pull out or don’t. Another child could mean double the amount of blood in time anyway."

Killian grip got even tighter than before.

No matter my cries and struggle to free myself, his hand seemed unmovable.

It was bad enough that they had their own secret kept from me, they were about to make me a one-armed man.

"May I take my leave now?"

His voice was cold. Unmoved.

"Yes. But I need that announcement on national television tonight. And make your c-m rug wear long sleeves. You clearly bruised his arm."

How thoughtful.

"If the baby will be lost at any point of pregnancy, what will happen then?"

His words hit me like ice.

My stomach turned, and a shiver ran down my spine so fast I could barely breathe. I stared at him, trying to understand, trying to believe he had really said that.

Fear crawled up my throat and choked me.

My hands moved on their own.

One pressed against my belly, firm and tight, like I could shield what was inside from him.

My chest ached as my breath broke into short gasps.

Killian didn’t look at me.

He didn’t look at her either.

His face was empty, his voice still cold in the air.

He stood there like a wall, like nothing mattered—not me, not the child, not even blood on his skin.

I froze, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

"I would rather that nothing will happen. Nobody will do business with a pharmaceutical company that can’t even keep a fetus alive."

"But if. If it happens?", Killian insisted.

"We’ll save face. We will show that Damian is infertile and a disappointment and marry you off right after. And you will have another child right after."

"Marry off to whom?"

"Want me to say Luther Wilkers?"

Are they gonna kill my baby?...