Alpha Nathan POV.

I pretended happiness and affection toward Emily with remarkable consistency. I knew that keeping up this act was essential until she safely delivered my heir.

"Just a little longer," I reminded myself each morning when I woke up beside her. I studied her sleeping face with practiced tenderness whenever she might be watching me.

"Once my child is born, I can finally end this charade and move forward with more suitable arrangements for everyone involved."

The deception didn't particularly bother my conscience. In my mind, I was just delaying an inevitable separation rather than causing real harm through temporary lies.

"She'll have been treated better with me than in her previous situation regardless of how this ends," I rationalized while gently brushing hair from her face. The gesture was calculated to appear loving if she suddenly woke up.

"And my child deserves the stability of proper Pack upbringing without complications from an unsuitable mother figure."

This compartmentalization allowed me to maintain the appearance of devoted mate while secretly planning her eventual removal from both my life and my child's future. I was separating Emily's role as incubator from her potential position as parent.

"It's ultimately kinder this way," I told myself whenever momentary guilt threatened my resolve. "A clean break once the baby arrives rather than years of trying to integrate someone fundamentally unsuited to Luna responsibilities into Pack hierarchy and supernatural society."

Yes, I continued my sexual relationship with Mila throughout Emily's pregnancy. Though with increased discretion after Emily's discovery of our initial encounter.

"I need this release," I justified during our secret meetings in Mila's private chambers. They were carefully scheduled during Emily's afternoon rest periods to avoid suspicion.

"The stress of maintaining this pretense while handling Alpha responsibilities requires some outlet. And Mila understands me in ways no one else could."

Our encounters became increasingly ritualized. Beginning precisely at 8 PM each evening and concluding by 10 PM to maintain the illusion of merely spending brotherly time with my sister during Emily's pregnancy.

"You're the only one who truly knows me," I would whisper against Mila's skin during these sessions. The forbidden nature of our connection created an intensity that "legitimate" relationships couldn't match.

"The only one who accepts me completely, without judgment or expectation of change."

Mila's eager participation and absolute discretion made her the perfect accomplice in this arrangement. Our shared secret created a bond that transcended conventional morality while remaining hidden from public knowledge that would create Pack complications neither of us wanted to navigate.

And yes, when even Mila's enthusiastic participation became insufficient to satisfy my appetites, I occasionally found release with certain carefully selected castle staff members. Maids whose discretion was assured through combinations of financial incentives and implied threats regarding continued employment.

"Just a quick encounter in the kitchen pantry," I would rationalize during these hasty interactions. I selected times when Emily was occupied with medical appointments or confined to bed rest.

"Nothing meaningful or threatening to Pack stability. Merely physical release with someone who understands their role and limitations."

These encounters, while satisfying immediate needs, contributed to a growing self-awareness I found increasingly uncomfortable to acknowledge even privately. I couldn't seem to control my sexual impulses or maintain fidelity even temporarily despite genuine efforts.

"If Emily were Isabella, it would be different," I assured myself during moments of uncomfortable self-reflection. "With my true mate, I wouldn't need these distractions or substitutes."

This comforting fiction allowed me to maintain self-image as honorable Alpha despite actions that contradicted this identity. That my behavior stemmed from circumstance rather than character.

I never intended to maintain a long-term relationship with Emily regardless of her potential transformation or adaptation to Pack life.

"Why would I accept a former sex slave as my permanent Luna?" I asked myself during moments of brutal honesty when alone in my office. I was reviewing Pack succession plans that carefully omitted Emily's ongoing presence.

"I'm Alpha. Powerful, wealthy, respected throughout supernatural society. I deserve a mate of appropriate background and standing."

The inherent snobbery in this assessment didn't particularly trouble me. Supernatural hierarchies had existed for millennia for good reasons, maintaining bloodlines and ensuring appropriate leadership succession.

Emily's background represented a fundamental mismatch with my position regardless of her personal qualities or adaptation efforts.

"The discovery of her past would eventually undermine my authority and standing," I concluded practically. "Better to establish clear separation once my heir is secured rather than attempting integration that would ultimately fail regardless of our efforts."

This coldly strategic assessment allowed me to maintain the appearance of developing affection while internally remaining detached from genuine emotional investment. Treating Emily as a temporary necessity rather than potential partner.

The catalyst for my decision to completely end involvement with Emily arrived unexpectedly. Beyond merely planning future separation. It came in a large package delivered to my private office several weeks after our return from the disastrous honeymoon.

"Another delivery from Kwan," my assistant noted casually as he placed the substantial box on my desk before leaving. "Marked personal and confidential as usual."

Curious about my friend's unexpected communication, I opened the package without hesitation. Only to find dozens of explicit photographs documenting Emily's past in excruciating detail.

Image after image showed her with various men in positions and scenarios that left nothing to the imagination.

"Who sent these?" I wondered initially, anger flaring at what appeared to be attempted blackmail or manipulation.

A brief note included with the photos answered this question with brutal simplicity: "Thought you should know exactly who you've mated with. These were in circulation among certain human trafficking networks until recently. We've purchased and destroyed all copies we could locate, but wanted you to understand the full situation before bonding permanently. --K."

The discovery hit me with physical force. Not merely confirming what I already knew about Emily's past, but providing graphic visual evidence that made abstract knowledge viscerally real in ways I hadn't anticipated.

I couldn't unsee those images once viewed. They burned into my consciousness with supernatural clarity, my enhanced werewolf memory ensuring perfect recall of every disturbing detail whenever I looked at Emily afterward.

"How can I possibly maintain even the pretense of respect after seeing that?" I questioned silently during our subsequent interactions. My revulsion was carefully hidden behind increased attentiveness that she mistakenly interpreted as growing affection.

"This isn't merely about her having been used by others. It's about seeing evidence of her apparent enjoyment of degradation, her willing participation in acts that no self-respecting female would endure regardless of circumstances."

My interpretation of the images revealed profound ignorance about trafficking realities. Viewing her expressions of pleasure as genuine rather than professionally performed survival mechanisms. But this misunderstanding only reinforced my determination to eventually remove her from my life and my child's future.

"I cannot and will not expose my heir to a mother with such a past," I concluded with absolute finality. "The risk of harmful influence or eventual discovery is simply too great."

The comparison between Emily and Isabella became increasingly stark in my mind following this discovery.

Isabella, who had fought against similar exploitation with every fiber of her being, contrasted with Emily, who appeared to have adapted to her circumstances with disturbing proficiency.

"Isabella would have died before allowing herself to be used that way," I thought with renewed admiration for my lost love. "She maintained her dignity and self-respect despite everything she endured."

This idealized view of Isabella allowed me to justify treating Emily as fundamentally inferior despite our formal mating bond. I was ignoring the complex reality that survival often requires adaptation rather than constant resistance.

"There is no comparison possible between them," I concluded during one particularly dark night of reflection. "Isabella earned her eventual happiness through maintaining her principles and spirit; Emily merely survived through compliance and adaptation."

The fundamental unfairness of this assessment never penetrated my self-serving perspective. I was judging two women's different survival strategies without acknowledging their equal victimization. This allowed continued justification for planning Emily's eventual dismissal from both my life and my child's future.

From the moment those photographs arrived, I maintained an elaborate performance of increasing affection and commitment while secretly counting days until delivery would allow me to implement separation.

"She shouldn't be selfish either," I reasoned during moments when guilt threatened my resolve. "She knows her past makes her fundamentally unsuitable as mother to a future Alpha. If she truly cared about the child's wellbeing, she would voluntarily step aside once delivery is complete."

This projection of my own desires onto Emily's potential motivations created convenient justification for planned abandonment while absolving me of responsibility for its emotional consequences.

"A good mother would recognize her limitations and unsuitability," I continued this self-serving logic. "Placing her child's future above her own desires for status or security."

The inherent cruelty in this perspective didn't register as problematic within my increasingly distorted moral framework. Expecting a traumatized woman to voluntarily surrender her child immediately after birth.

The promise of imminent fatherhood provided consistent motivation for maintaining my elaborate deception despite occasional impulses toward honesty or genuine connection.

"My heir deserves the best possible entry into this world," I reminded myself whenever Emily's genuine vulnerability or moments of authentic sweetness threatened to penetrate my emotional defenses.

"That means ensuring her physical and emotional wellbeing until delivery, regardless of what comes afterward."

This limited compassion allowed me to provide convincing performance of devoted mate while internally maintaining complete detachment from genuine emotional investment. Extending only until birth rather than encompassing her long-term welfare.

"Everything I'm doing is ultimately for my child," became my constant internal refrain. It justified both the ongoing deception toward Emily and the continued sexual relationships with Mila and occasionally others that provided necessary release from the stress of sustained pretense.