Todos los capítulos de Alpha's Eight Secret Babies: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

Five years later...“Mama! He poured juice on my shirt!”“No, I didn’t! She spilled it herself!”“Why do I only have one shoe?!”The walls of our cramped three-bedroom apartment shook with noise. Eight kids, raced around the kitchen like a tornado made of chubby limbs, flying cereal, and relentless questions. I stood in the middle of it all the chaos, spoon in one hand, toddler balanced on my hip, and sleep-deprived to the point of hallucination.Despite how exhausting it is, my heart was filled with joy. They were my kids, children I had only been able to give birth to after so much effort with my life on the line.Words can't describe how much I cherish them.“Enough!” I snapped, voice sharper than I intended. “Everyone to your chairs. Now.”Tera and Zane froze mid-argument, and even baby Adam blinked up at me in stunned silence.Thank God.I dropped the spoon in the pot of oatmeal and rubbed my temple. My head throbbed. My back ached. And I hadn’t even had coffee yet.“Lily, stop

Dominic’s PovThe doors of the private terminal at City A Airport slid open with a hiss as I stepped into the humid air, the city’s noise and scent rushing at me all at once. I hated this place. Too loud. Too crowded. Too human.Still, I drew attention—of course I did.Women turned. Whispers flew. A few even pointed discreetly, their eyes lingering on my face, then trailing down to the black shirt clinging to my chest, the tailored coat framing my wide shoulders. My boots hit the tile with sharp clack sound drawing everyone’s attention as I moved, the energy around me pulsing in time with my steps.I knew what they saw—tall, powerful, handsome. Eyes like cold silver, posture like a predator on the prowl.They didn’t know the half of it.They didn’t know what lived under my skin. What kind of blood burned through my veins.Werewolf. An Alpha and in a world where our kind had grown scarce, I was the deadliest of them all.A blonde woman wearing too much perfume strutted across the walkw

The cold wind hit my face the moment I stepped out of the bar. I looked left and right, scanning the sidewalk. She was already at the edge of the street, wrapping a scarf around her neck, clearly in a rush to leave.“Wait,” I called.She stopped, stiffened, and turned slowly.Her eyes met mine again—wide, guarded, unreadable. For a brief second, something flashed across her face. Surprise? Annoyance? Fear? I wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it disappeared quickly.“I already said no,” she said, voice cold. “I don’t need a ride.”“I’m not here to offer you one,” I answered.She raised her eyebrows. “Then what do you want?”I hesitated. I didn’t want to scare her off, but I needed to be sure.“I just want to talk.”She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “Look, if this is some new tactic to flirt, it’s not working.”I stepped closer, careful not to push too much. “I think I know you.”That got her attention.Her lips pressed into a line. “No. You don’t.”“You sure?” I asked.“Very sur

The sound of my boots echoed on the marble floors as I stepped into the house.No—her house.Or at least the one I gave her.Zarah Twain.The woman who was supposed to be mine. The woman everyone swore was the same one from five years ago. The one my people brought home because she wore the right watch and had the right last name.But nothing about her had ever felt right.Not the way she laughed. Not the way she touched me. Not even the way she smelled.And now, standing in the middle of the grand white foyer, I felt it again—that emptiness. The same hollow feeling I got every time I was around her.The scent of artificial flowers clung to the air, mixed with expensive perfume and something… plastic.The butler met me at the foot of the staircase.“She’s upstairs,” he said with a stiff nod. “She went to shower the moment she heard you were on your way.”I stared at him.He fidgeted under my gaze.I looked around slowly. The walls were covered with designer art pieces that didn’t matc

I never thought I’d get it. After dozens of CVs, endless nights working random online gigs, and surviving on instant noodles while raising eight kids, I had honestly stopped hoping.I still remembered the day I got the call. It was raining—just a soft drizzle tapping on the cracked windowpanes of our apartment. I was folding laundry for the kids while Adam gnawed on a teether and Jay was reciting multiplication tables backwards because “it’s more fun that way, Mama!”My phone vibrated.I didn’t even check the number. Lately, unknown numbers usually meant debt collectors or job rejections. Still, something inside me made me answer.“Hello?” I asked cautiously, balancing a warm towel over my shoulder.“Is this Ms. Twain? Mannie Twain?”“Yes.”“This is Blackmoore Enterprises. We reviewed your application and would like to schedule a formal onboarding. You’ve been accepted into the marketing department under contract. You start next Monday. A message will also be sent to your email addres