Page 36 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

On the fourth morning, I touched my still-flat belly and made a decision.

I'd gamble one last time.

The morning I decided to tell Zane about the pregnancy, Leah came.

She didn't knock.

She just pushed the door open, wearing a dark green gown, hair pinned in an elegant bun, that smile on her face that made my stomach turn. Her gaze swept over my rounded belly—I was thin, and even several months pregnant, it barely showed.

Her smile deepened.

"Looks like the news I got was right," she said, voice sweet as honey laced with arsenic. "You're pregnant."

I instinctively stepped back, hands protecting my belly.

"Don't be nervous," she walked in and shut the door behind her. "I'm not here to hurt you."

She was lying.

I saw it in her eyes—that jealous, crazed, murderous light.

"You know what this means, right?" She sat in the chair across from me, crossing her legs, posture elegant as if she were having afternoon tea. "Once you give birth to this child, especially if it's a boy—you'll be the heir's mother. And me—" she pointed at herself, "I'll be completely kicked out."

I stared at her, silent.

"So I came up with a solution," she pulled a small bottle from her sleeve, filled with murky liquid. "Drink this. It'll all be over. You won't suffer long, I promise."

I jumped up, knocking over the flowerpot behind me.

What is that? I didn't even need confirmation to guess its purpose!

—To hurt me, or hurt my child!

I shook my head, backing up step by step until my back hit the windowsill. My fingers fumbled along the window frame, mind racing—the door was behind her, the window was sealed, nothing in the room I could use to defend myself.

"Don't make me use force, Mia." She stood, advancing on me. "You're a mute. Even if you scream, no one can hear you. And—" she smiled, "who do you think they'll believe? You or me?"

She was right.

No one would believe me.

But I wouldn't let her hurt my child.

When she lunged at me, I dodged sideways. The bottle grazed past my ear, a few drops spilling onto the floor and turning to white foam—that stuff was poison, I was sure of it now.

I grabbed her wrist, trying to get the bottle. She was taller than me, stronger too, but we wrestled, knocking over the vase on the table, kicking over a chair. Shards scattered across the floor. I stepped on a piece of porcelain, the pain breaking my focus.

In that instant, she seized her chance, pinning me against the table edge, raising the bottle to force it down my throat.

I shoved her with everything I had.

Her elbow hit the table corner.

She screamed, let go, and fell backward. The bottle hit the floor and shattered, brown liquid pooling everywhere.

Then the door flew open.

Zane stood in the doorway.