My Son Calls His Father “Alpha” Now Chapter 10
In all our years as mates, he had always been the proud, composed Alpha. This was the first time I’d ever seen him so broken and desperate.
But I felt no sympathy. I just found it… pathetic.
“You’re only remembering Leo now?”
Bruce opened his mouth, but no words came out.
I heard soft footsteps behind me.
Leo was there, clutching his little dinosaur.
He looked at Bruce kneeling outside the door, his expression unreadable.
Bruce reached for him like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline.
“Leo. Daddy’s here. Can you help me convince your mom? Please? I don’t want to lose her.”
He thought Leo would soften. After all, Leo used to be his little shadow.
Whenever he came home, Leo would run and hug his legs, chanting “Daddy, Daddy.”
But this time, Leo just took a small step back behind me.
Then he said, calmly, “Alpha, you should go be with your other pup. Don’t bother me and my mom anymore.”
Bruce froze, his hand suspended in mid-air.
“Leo, I’m your dad. How can you call me Alpha?”
Leo looked at him, his eyes red but tearless.
“Weren’t you the one who didn’t want us first?”
Bruce’s lips trembled. “I never said I didn’t want you.”
Leo shook his head. “You did. When I was sick with a fever, you weren’t there. I only had Mom. You picked up Tony from daycare, but you never came for me. All the kids thought you were Tony’s dad. You’re not my dad. You’re the Alpha.”
Leo’s voice began to break.
“I was so excited to go to the amusement park with you. You promised. I actually believed you this time. But you still didn’t come.
He wiped his eyes.
“Alpha, Mom and I are done waiting. We don’t need you in our lives anymore.”
It was like a slap across the face.
Bruce knelt in the hallway, looking like he might collapse.
“Leo, Daddy was wrong. I’ll be with you every day from now on, okay?”
Leo shook his head.
“I don’t want that. Go be with Tony. You like him more anyway.”
Bruce closed his eyes in pain.
“No. That’s not true.”
But Leo didn’t want to hear it
He reached out and slowly pushed the door closed.
“Goodnight, Alpha.”
As the door clicked shut, I saw Bruce’s head bow, a tear splashing onto the carpet.
Leo turned and hugged me, his small body shaking.
“Just hold me, Mom.”
I picked him up, and he buried his face in my neck.
“Mom, was I mean? Will he be sad because of what I said?”
My eyes burned. “You weren’t mean, Leo. And if he’s sad, it’s not your fault. It’s what he deserves.”
That night, Bruce knelt outside our door until morning.
I never opened it.
And Leo never asked about him again.
When we woke up, Bruce was gone.
The front desk delivered a letter.
[Avril, Leo. I’m not giving up.]
I read it and threw it in the trash.
Leo sat on the bed, munching on a piece of toast. He looked up at me.
“What did he write, Mom?”
I smiled. “Nothing important.”
Leo smiled back.
It was the first real smile I’d seen from him since we left.
A lot happened over the next year.
First, Fiona.
A nurse gave the Elders a recording of her forcing wolfsbane on Tony.
す
The evidence was undeniable: hallway security footage, the nurse’s recording, Tony’s own testimony, and her message logs
with Bruce.
It was all there–the countless times she had used “Tony misses his daddy,” “Tony fell down,” or “Tony has a fever” to pull Bruce away from us.
Bruce himself testified against her.
Fiona was found guilty of endangering a pup and was exiled to the barrens.
Tony’s biological father came back from another continent and took him home. They said the moment Tony saw him, he clung to his real father and wouldn’t let go. My heart went out to the pup. He was never the villain, just a pawn in his mother’s games.
Second, Leo and I made a home in the Sunstone Pack.
I used my savings to open a small healing clinic.
It wasn’t big, but it had a yard.
Leo wanted to plant moonberries, so we bought a dozen seedlings.
In the spring, the first tiny berry appeared. Leo held it in his palm like it was a precious jewel.
“You have the first bite, Mom.”
I ate half and gave the rest to him.
“We’ll share.”
He grinned, his eyes crinkling.
In that moment, I felt like the past was finally starting to fade.
I went back to being a healer.
I had given up so much for Bruce, to be a proper Luna. Now, I was picking up the pieces of my old life.
It was exhausting at first. I saw patients all day, helped Leo with his homework at night, and studied new healing techniques
after he was asleep.
Sometimes, at two in the morning, I’d sit in my study, drinking cold coffee and wondering why life had to be so hard.
But then I would open his door and see him sleeping peacefully, and it would all feel worth it.
Six months later, I joined a major medical group as their head healer. My experience as a Luna had given me a unique insight into pack dynamics and patient psychology.
Soon after, I was promoted.
The first thing I did was call Leo.
“Honey, Mommy got a promotion.”
There was a pause, then a shriek of delight.
“You’re the best, Mom!”
I stood in the hallway at work, smiling through tears.
It turned out I could do more than just survive without Bruce. I could thrive.
I had just wasted so much energy waiting for him to turn around.
As for Bruce, he kept his word. He didn’t give up.
At first, he sent gifts every day.
Boxes and boxes of toys Leo liked.
I didn’t want to accept them, but Leo said, very seriously, “We should take them, Mom. It’s what he owes me.”
So we did.
We took the money and the gifts.
But Leo never called him dad.
Whenever Bruce visited, Leo would nod politely.
“Hello, Alpha.”
Every time, Bruce would flinch.
But he never dared to correct him again.
