Alpha Kwan Pov.

Isabella avoided me on purpose, going to parts of the castle where she knew I wouldn't follow-spending hours in the garden tending her flowers with unusual focus, disappearing into the kitchen to prepare elaborate dishes that Juan liked, or wandering the library with unfocused eyes.

Not once did she come near my study or the training grounds where I spent most of the day.

I decided to give her space to process her feelings, knowing that pushing the issue would only make the gap between us bigger.

"She needs time," I told myself, focusing on Pack matters that needed my attention. "We'll talk calmly when Juan returns and we can address it together as a family."

I planned to have a thoughtful conversation with both of them, explaining my reasoning and listening to their concerns while still keeping the boundaries needed for Juan's development.

However, when my son returned from school that afternoon, his unexpected announcement made matters much more complicated.

He burst through the front doors with unusual energy, racing toward Isabella with determination.

"Mom! Mom! Guess what?" he called excitedly, his earlier distress apparently forgotten.

Isabella knelt to hug him, relief clear on her face as she checked him for any signs of distress.

Juan pulled back from her hug, stomped his small foot firmly on the marble floor, and announced clearly, "I want a brother! Or maybe a sister! All the other kids have siblings."

He looked between us with hopeful eyes, as though he'd just asked for a new toy that could be bought by the weekend.

"Tommy has two brothers, and Marco has a baby sister. Why can't I have one too? Please?"

Isabella's face changed remarkably at his words-first surprise, then a flash of pain so sharp it seemed almost physical, followed by something that looked frighteningly like despair.

Without a word, she turned and ran from the room, leaving Juan confused and me deeply concerned.

I immediately followed her outside, catching her arm and gently turning her to face me.

The sight of tears streaming down her beautiful face broke my heart.

"Isabella! Why are you crying now? Talk to me, please."

She sighed deeply, a sound of deep frustration and heartache, her voice breaking as she finally spoke through her tears.

"Because I can't make you happy! I can't make Juan happy! I can't even make myself happy!"

Her words rushed out in pain as she gestured helplessly with her hands.

"Every child deserves siblings, and Juan is asking for something so simple, so normal-and I can't give it to him because I'm nothing! I'm defective!"

She turned away, shoulders shaking with silent sobs that tore at my soul.

"Every month that passes with no pregnancy is another reminder that I'm failing you both."

I stepped closer, gently holding her tear-stained cheeks between my palms, tilting her face up to meet my eyes.

"Listen to me," I said softly but firmly, offering her a reassuring smile. "You haven't failed anyone. We're happy-I'm happy, and Juan is happy too."

"He's just a child who saw something new today and naturally wants what his friends have. That's completely normal behavior for a seven-year-old."

She mumbled nervously, wringing her hands together as a new determination entered her eyes, "Let's try again-more actively this time. Maybe we've been too casual about it."

Her voice had a desperate edge that worried me.

"Perhaps we should talk to the Pack healer, or try those fertility herbs the elder women talk about."

I tried to calm her growing anxiety, recognizing the unhealthy fixation developing around our inability to conceive.

"Isabella, we already have a wonderful, normal life together. We make love frequently-nearly every night! These things happen in their own time."

"It's truly up to fate and biology, not effort." I stroked her hair gently, trying to soothe her obvious distress.

"We can't force this process, no matter how much we might want to."

She pleaded with tearful intensity, holding my shirt as though I had the solution just beyond her reach.

"Please, let's do more-try harder, be more deliberate about timing. Why don't we go somewhere else? A change of scenery might help."

Her eyes lit up with sudden inspiration.

"Remember how you promised me a honeymoon? We never took one after everything that happened with Juan and your grandfather."

"Maybe that's what we need-a special trip just for us, away from the pressures of the Pack."

I realized with a pang of guilt that she was right-I had delayed our honeymoon indefinitely after the traumatic incidents involving Juan and my grandfather.

Isabella had been so shaken by those events that she'd been reluctant to leave the safety of our territory, and I had allowed our plans to fade into the background amid the daily responsibilities of Pack leadership.

After thinking about her suggestion, I decided this might indeed be the perfect opportunity to reconnect away from our daily pressures.

"You know what? That's an excellent idea," I agreed, feeling her tension ease slightly at my words.

"Let's go somewhere beautiful and romantic. How about France? The Pack in Normandy has invited us several times, and the countryside there is supposed to be breathtaking this time of year."

Her face changed instantly, excitement replacing her previous distress as she nodded enthusiastically, making a visible effort to show a broad, genuine smile despite the lingering pain in her eyes.

"Yes, that sounds perfect! Could we-" she hesitated momentarily before continuing in a smaller voice, "Could we take Juan with us? Just for part of the trip, perhaps?"

I felt my frustration surge at her persistent inability to separate from my son even for our honeymoon.

"No!" I roared, my Alpha voice emerging unintentionally as my patience finally snapped.

"Absolutely not! This trip is about us-you and me-reconnecting as mates. Juan will stay here with Mila and the Pack elders where he belongs."

I paced several steps away before turning back to her, struggling to moderate my tone.

"A honeymoon is for the couple, Isabella. Juan needs to learn independence, and we need time alone together. No means no-he will stay here."

She seemed to withdraw into herself for a moment, her gaze distant as she processed my uncharacteristic outburst.

Then, surprisingly, her expression cleared and she nodded with unexpected acceptance.

"You're right, of course. We are doing this for him too, in a way-trying for a baby."

She smiled softly, touching my arm in reconciliation. "I understand now. This trip should be just for us."

I felt relieved at her apparent understanding, believing we had finally reached an agreement on the matter.

However, I couldn't have been more mistaken, as I discovered the following morning when we boarded my private jet bound for France.

Isabella seemed innocently drowsy during takeoff, curling against my shoulder with unusual contentment that should have made me suspicious.

It wasn't until we had reached cruising altitude and were well on our way across the Atlantic that I heard it-the unmistakable sound of childish giggling coming from the jet's small storage compartment.

Before I could investigate, Isabella flashed me a mischievous grin that confirmed my worst suspicions.

"Surprise!" she announced with infuriating cheerfulness. "I told Juan to hide until we were airborne. Isn't that clever? Now we can all have a wonderful vacation together!"

She beamed as though expecting praise for her deception rather than the fury that immediately coursed through me.

"Yeah! Great! Absolutely fantastic!" I exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from every word as I fought to control my temper.

"You know what? I think I should just give you divorce papers when we land! It's abundantly clear you're married to my son, not to me."

The words burst forth from a place of raw frustration, not reflecting my true feelings but rather the buildup of weeks of mounting tension.

The moment the phrase "my son" left my lips, however, I knew I had made a terrible mistake.

Isabella's expression froze, her playful smile vanishing as though I'd slapped her.

"Your son?" she repeated quietly, each syllable heavy with hurt. "After all this time, after everything we've been through together, he's still just your son?"

I immediately regretted my thoughtless words, but the damage was already done.

A terrible silence stretched between us as I struggled to understand why our relationship had become so centered around children-first Nathan's desire for them, which I hadn't particularly shared, and now Isabella's growing obsession with both Juan and having a baby of her own.

Why couldn't she simply appreciate what we had built together, the deep connection and partnership that had nothing to do with offspring?

Surprisingly, rather than dissolving into tears as I might have expected, Isabella lifted her chin with newfound dignity.

"Fine," she said coolly, her voice remarkably composed. "Let's go back immediately. Take me to my father's Pack. I know when I'm not wanted."

Her sudden calm was more alarming than any emotional outburst would have been.

"What? Isabella, I didn't mean-" I began, but she had already turned away, busying herself with retrieving Juan from his hiding place and settling him into a proper seat with exaggerated attention.

Recognizing that the situation had escalated beyond simple resolution, I attempted to salvage our trip through playful kisses and promises of shopping excursions in Paris, but she remained unmoved.

"I want to go to my father's territory," she repeated firmly, leaving me no choice but to respect her wishes.

I informed the pilot of our change in plans, and we redirected our course accordingly.

The remainder of our flight passed in uncomfortable silence broken only by Juan's occasional cheerful observations, oblivious to the tension between the adults.