Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

SEREN

“ M ama, hungry.”

My extraordinary son, born to an extremely ordinary human, comes waddling into my study. His eyes are wide with innocence and his arms are outstretched, waiting for me to catch him.

I glance at my screen, swiftly switching off the camera while holding my arms out for Leon. He squeals as he sees me smile, his chubby legs picking up speed. He wiggles playfully as he crashes into my arms, his gurgling laughter filling the room.

“There’s some uncertainty surrounding the proposal,” I say into my headset while kissing Leon’s forehead and opening the top buttons of my shirt.

“Market fluctuations make it risky and increase scrutiny and potential manipulation claims. Due diligence is essential.” I ease my nipple into his mouth as I add, “To avoid legal pitfalls. ”

Suddenly, the door swings open and Leon’s babysitter, Chloe, bursts in, her face flushed with embarrassment. I wave her off with a smile as she mumbles apologies.

While talking to the client, I look down at Leon, his fingers clutched tight on my shirt. It’s the third time he’s come for milk in two hours. Sometimes I think there’s a demon in him that’s forever hungry. At least I know it’s not really a demon; it’s just a wolf.

By the time our call ends, Leon’s eyelids are drooping. I burp him gently, pacing the ten-square-foot room until sleep claims him. Two laps around the tiny space, and he’s out like a light.

I notice Chloe standing by the door, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches me, waiting for me to hand over the little bundle to her so she can transfer him to his cot, but I need a minute.

“Can you put his toys away and prepare two bottles for the night?” I whisper. She nods and walks away immediately. I continue pacing, running my fingers over Leon’s back and pressing kisses to his head. The smell of baby powder and the faint lavender scent that surrounds him soothes my nerves.

Being a mother fulfills me in ways I never imagined. Any anger I had for Theron feels immaterial now. I just want to succeed so I can give Leon the life he deserves. I’m never sure if I’m doing enough.

Chloe returns, and I hand Leon over so she can put him to bed while I get back to my next call.

“Whoa!” she gasps, balancing him in her arms. “He’s heavier than my two-year-old neighbor.”

My eyes widen as she walks away. It’s true. My baby is growing faster than his peers .

At three months he pointed to a sparrow and said, “Bird.”

At four months he took his first steps.

At five months he weighs twenty pounds, looks like a one-year-old, and is communicating his needs verbally, so far with only one-word requests like “hungry,” “toy,” and “water.”

He’s never wet the bed, not even once. The moment he needs to relieve himself, he lets out a distinct sound, signaling me to take him to the bathroom.

Every day he does something new, igniting a whirlwind of emotions—pride, love, and a growing fear of the unknown. Most people don’t react to him kindly, especially with the way he looks. He has thick hair sticking up from his head, sideburns on his face, and much more body hair than other kids his age. I generally keep him dressed in full-sleeved rompers whenever we go out.

“Want me to stick around?” Chloe asks, popping her head inside the room after a few minutes. “We can take him to the park. There aren’t many kids around at this hour.”

I smile. For her eighteen years, Chloe is precocious, but I’m not sure the park is a good idea. The three excursions in the park in the last month have all led to my child crying. People make nasty faces at him, children pull his hair, and then he spends the rest of the day sitting scared in my lap.

“Maybe next week?”

She nods. “Cool. I’m off then. See you Monday,” Chloe says, waving as she walks out with a sway in her steps. “Oh, and by the way, my sister got an A in that course you helped her with. Who knows, she might clear the bar this year!” she adds, her voice fading as she closes the door .

I shake my head, smiling. Even my little contributions to other people’s lives feel so fucking good. I stretch my arms out, letting out a loud yawn. My eyes catch on the shimmery gold dress hanging from the coatrack. Nothing gets you moving faster than knowing you have a party to attend that you can’t skip.

Grabbing the essentials from the closet, I head to the guest bathroom. It’s the one that has a bathtub, and with Leon probably out for an hour, I can soak for a while.

But within minutes, I hear little feet patter up to the door, and I sigh.

“Mama.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Mama, open.”

Quickly throwing on a bathrobe, I let my boy in. He immediately puts his hands up for me to pick him up.

“Where’s Simba?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his cheek as I settle him on the vanity.

“Sleeping,” he says, his fists rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and I laugh. His favorite plushie gets more sleep than him.

He watches me as I do my skincare routine. When I put moisturizer on my face, he asks for some, and I laugh. I wash his face before applying just a drop to his skin. He giggles and leans in, putting his face out and murmuring “more.” I squeeze a drop on his palm and do the same on mine, showing him how to rub it in. He repeats my actions exactly. I put another drop on his palm and get back to my makeup.

If there’s ever an award for a fuss-free baby, it should be given to my child. One drop of moisturizer on his palm and he is completely entertained.

“Are you excited about Auntie Jane’s dinner tonight?” I ask, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

Jane and Gunner are hosting an engagement dinner. The last six months of their relationship have been fraught with friction over the same “work wife” of Gunner’s. Just when Jane was ready to give up, Gunner brought out his grandma’s ring. The irony isn’t lost on me. But Jane feels giving up now would mean wasting the last six years, and so tonight we celebrate. I don’t agree with it—and I’ve even told her that—but I’ll still support her in her choice.

Instead of his usual romper, I dress Leon in a cute tuxedo I picked up from a kid’s store last week. Soon we are stepping into Jane’s family’s brownstone townhouse on the Upper East Side.

The wail of a kid crying in one of the rooms is barely muffled by a door as Jane and I hug. “I think it’s a sign,” she whispers before turning to Leon, pulling him in for a hug, complimenting him on his fancy clothes.

“The caterers are still not here. Gunner’s mother announced she has recently developed a tomato allergy, so half the food is unacceptable now. One of my father’s business deals is suddenly under threat and he needs to be personally involved to resolve it.”

“It’s just one night,” I reply, holding onto Leon’s hand while he tries to shirk my grip to chase two of Jane’s nephews, who are running wild in the living room.

Jane steps away to check on one of her guests when a young boy approaches us. He stares at Leon with a frown on his face before reaching for his plushie, Simba.

“Hey!” I immediately flop onto my knees, expecting Leon to get knocked down, but my son, of course, grips my arm tighter for support while trying to hold on to his toy. The other kid is three and manages it yank it hard enough to pull it away from him and stutters “mm… monkey,” before running away.

I feel like smacking that little prick in the face when Leon’s bloodcurdling scream rings out. Leon has a strong sense of dominance and possession. Jane’s sister and mom come running over, which only makes him cling to me tightly and whisper “home” in my ear.

The boy’s father appears a few minutes later, with the toy in one hand and his son in the other.

“Say sorry,” he says to his son through gritted teeth, handing him the plushie. The boy is in tears. I try to pry Leon’s grip off my neck so he can face them, but he refuses, so when the boy does as he’s asked, I accept his apology and take Simba back. The man apologizes to me and leaves.

Leon takes a while to calm down, but after a walk in the garden, his sobs settle down. By the time we’re back inside, the dinner is laid out. Thankfully we are seated alongside the oldies in the family, who are happy to coo at him.

“Look at those beautiful eyes!” one of Gunner’s older aunts exclaims, her gaze softening. “He’s such a handsome boy.”

I smile politely, noticing the sideways glances and hushed murmurs.

“How old is he?” another one asks. I want to lie but I don’t, even though admitting he’s only six months old draws a round of surprised gasps.

“Whoa! He’s quite big for his age, isn’t he?”

“He reminds me of Grandpa Phillips. I mean, with all that hair.”

“Look at him eating solids. ”

“Yeah, he’s like a little man already,” another guest chimes in, her eyes locked on Leon’s sideburns.

Leon giggles, reveling in the attention as someone ruffles his hair, or winks at him, or gently pulls his cheek. He’s blissfully unaware of the judgment in their voices.

I nod along, forcing a smile as I smooth down Leon’s hair, but my son stays playful throughout it all. He even steals bits and pieces from my plate after finishing the chopped banana and boiled apples I packed for him.

I’m in the middle of giving an unofficial opinion on a court case to Gunner’s brother when I notice another one of Jane’s nephews approaching Leon. His eyes are fixed on Leon’s sideburns, and before I can react, he reaches out and yanks them hard.

Leon lets out a surprised yelp, his eyes filling with tears. He instinctively reaches up with his tiny hand, his movements more fluid and determined than those of a regular baby.

I notice people exchanging glances while the boy runs away. Jane’s sister is red-faced and mortified. Her husband is fuming.

The lunchbox flies onto the floor as Leon shoves it away while crying out, trying to hide his face. I immediately pull him out of his high chair and hold him close, murmuring soothing words into his ear. And then I feel the warmth of a surprising wetness spreading on my lap. I close my eyes, realizing he’s wet himself and some of it has leaked onto my dress.

His sobs break my heart.

“We should go home,” I whisper to him, wiping his tears and rubbing his back. Leon murmurs “okay” between hiccups against my shoulder.

Jane comes over, her expression apologetic. I offer her a reassuring smile; it’s not her fault. “Please apologize to your parents for me, but we should probably head home. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Don’t take a cab,” she says, motioning to a uniformed man. “James will take you home.”

I don’t refuse.

The entire half-hour drive home is filled with his soft sniffles. But after twenty minutes in the bubble bath, with rubber ducks for company, he’s giggling and calm again. I blow raspberries onto his stomach, relieved to see him happy again.

Instead of heading straight to bed, we cuddle on the couch, Finding Nemo playing softly on the TV. His small body nestles in my lap, his arms mirroring mine.

Nemo’s dad has barely made his way across the East Australian Current when I notice Leon’s head lolling to the side. I put him in the little swing in my room and rock him for a while before lying down. I’ve barely put my head on the pillow when my phone buzzes with a message from Jane: Open the door.

I tiptoe to the door.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, girl,” Jane says, pulling me into a hug. “Leah’s sons have become total brats.” She peeks inside without stepping in. “Is he asleep?”

I nod. “Come in.”

“Nah. I just came to drop this off.” She hands a big Tupperware box to me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “It’s cake. I should go. Gunner and I are dropping his parents off.”

“What the…why did you stop here when you have them in the car?”

She shrugs. “I’ve known you longer than them. Plus, I wanted the little guy to have this,” she says before racing back down the stairs.

I sigh and put the box in the fridge before switching off all the lights. As I’m walking back to my room, I hear whimpering. I find Leon frantically moving around in the swing but unable to get down, his eyes confused.

I rush over and pick him up, whispering, “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” hoping he’ll calm down. “Mama’s here.”

His whimpering stops instantly. He buries his face in my neck before tugging at my hair, pulling my face down, and trying to bite my cheeks. I hear a strange mewl.

As I pull back to kiss his cheeks, something catches my attention. His eyes, usually raven-black, have shades of amber flickering through them. My heart skips a beat, and I’m unable to look away.

“Leon?” I say softly, trying to mask the panic in my voice. He giggles and then, in a voice that’s way more mature and deeper than a baby’s should be, he murmurs, “Mama.”

He lets out a mewl again, and I realize he’s trying to growl.

I swallow hard, tears pricking my eyes. This is it. If I ever needed proof, it’s here. And it’s undeniable.

My son is a werewolf. And maybe stronger than most, if his wolf is coming out this early.

It’s a fear that has stayed in my head throughout my pregnancy and the last few months. Now, I can’t ignore reality any longer.

The entire night, I’m unable to sleep. How will my little wolf survive in this world of humans? My mind keeps throwing possible scenarios at me but in each one, I find my Leon struggling.

Over the next few weeks, I brainstorm things I could do to keep him safe.

Maybe we could move to a cabin in the hills? No one would find us there.

But how would I help him shift or connect with his wolf?

Will he hunt? Will he want to eat his prey? Can he eat prey without getting sick?

What do I even tell him about his wolf?

These questions gnaw at me.

The night before his six-month birthday, I’m lying down in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the decision pressing down on my chest.

Do I keep Leon with me or take him back to the place that is part of his heritage, where there’s a whole pack of werewolves who can understand and help him?

While Theron is selfish, I don’t think he would be bad to his son. I know Titan would love him wholeheartedly. Even Vanessa, despite being snooty, would keep him safe. And Alpha Dan would love him. I can just see it.

I don’t know what time I finally fall asleep, but I wake up with a clarity I haven’t felt before.

Over the next few months, I spend every possible moment with my son. We do everything I thought we would have years to do. We go to ice cream parlors, movies, the carnival. We go away for weekend trips when we can. We even try horseback riding.

Days before his first birthday, I book two tickets to Mammoth Lakes and only one back to NYC.