His Human Ex, His Secret Heir

Fiona Warren POV

I stand at the door of the club's private room, hugging the gift box.

Inside is a scarf.

It took me half a month. I only finished knitting it just before Austin was due to leave.

To get it done in time, I stayed up until three in the morning almost every night.

The needles pricked my fingers more than once, but I never minded a bit.

I just want him to like it. I want him to think of me every time he wraps it around his neck.

I look down at the box in my arms and my lips curve up.

Austin will love it.

I reach out to push the door open.

The voices from inside stop me cold.

"So you're really just leaving tomorrow? Without saying anything clear?"

"Say what?"

That's Austin's voice. He always talks like that — cold.

I don't push the door. Laughter from several men comes through.

"What else? That human you keep stashed in your apartment."

Human...

They mean me.

"Claire? Hahaha. Come on, Austin — when you sleep with her, can her human body even take you?"

"Exactly. Holy Cross Academy is full of beautiful werewolf girls, and you picked a human."

The laughter inside gets louder. My ears ache from it.

That's not true!

Austin treats me well. He said he'd love me forever.

Even though I'm human, even though I never really fit in, he never once looked down on me.

Austin, say something.

Tell them you love me.

The way you did two years ago, when you confessed.

Two years ago I was admitted to Holy Cross Academy and became the only human in a school of werewolves. I was bullied plenty there.

When I was at my most helpless, Austin was the one who stepped forward and protected me.

He said what's inside matters more than looks, that he liked my kindness.

On the blood moon night, when he lost control mid-shift, he kissed me.

After we were together, when I'd fall asleep at my desk painting, he'd carry me back to bed. When my cramps were bad, he'd frown and bring me painkillers...

He's just not good at saying things. But he never once looked down on me.

So this time, too, he'll speak up for me.

"Enough."

At those words I finally breathe again.

I knew it... He wouldn't let anyone insult me like that.

I knew he loved me!

I take hold of the door handle, meaning to give him the gift.

The door slips open an inch, and someone inside speaks again.

"Come on, second young master Sheffield, stop playing the good guy. Who doesn't remember that bet from back then?"

A bet?

What bet? Austin never mentioned any bet to me.

My hand is still on the handle. I'm more and more afraid to push this door open.

"What was it you said back then? Toss her a little cheap sympathy, and bet on whether the human would shamelessly throw herself at you."

The man slaps the table, laughing even harder.

"Throw herself at you? She's probably going to cling to Austin for the rest of her life."

Wh-what?

My hands and feet go numb. I have to lean back against the wall so I don't slide to the floor.

Shameless?

No. That's impossible.

Austin loves me. He can't think that way.

It must be these werewolves making things up.

Austin, say something!

Just call them boring, and I'll pretend I never heard it, and give you the scarf, and see you off tomorrow...

Please. Say something.

I'm barely holding up, but I grit my teeth and stay outside the door.

I want to hear him speak.

"Enough." Austin's voice turns cold. "What's between her and me isn't for you to comment on." He pauses, then adds flatly, "Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow. Humans and werewolves were never going to have a future anyway."

Buzz—

I open my mouth, but I can't breathe. Someone is still talking in there, but I can't make out a single word.

I clutch the gift box against my chest. I can't even cry.

So being lied to by the person you love hurts this much.

Humans and werewolves, hardly any future.

So he'd already decided how we would end.

He wouldn't let them humiliate me further, but he didn't deny the bet either, and he never said he loved me. Maybe he did protect me. That doesn't mean he ever loved me.

I was too naive.

For two years I never doubted him. Only tonight did I learn that all that care was just part of a bet.

Even that kiss on the blood moon night may have had nothing to do with love.

I knitted every stitch of this scarf with such care, only because I was afraid he'd be cold after he went to Northern Europe.

And now this gesture only makes me feel ashamed.

I nearly pushed the door open.

I wanted to storm in and demand answers. I wanted to throw the scarf in his face and make everyone inside shut up.

Through the gap I can see Austin sitting on the sofa, surrounded by pureblood werewolves from the academy.

If I pushed this door open and ran in crying and demanding answers, what would be waiting for me?

Would they look at me like I'd gone mad?

Would Austin resent me for making him lose face?

Or would they simply throw me out for crashing a pureblood gathering?

No.

I can't do that.

I can't let them trample the last shred of my dignity.

I step back a few paces, wipe my tears messily, turn, and run out of the club.

Austin isn't only the second young master of the Sheffield pack. He's the Lycan King, of noble blood.

I knew I might never be able to stay with him to the end, but I always believed that at least these two years were real.

But he had only ever seen me as a joke.

...

At one in the morning, Austin comes back to the apartment.

He loosens his tie and sits down beside me.

"Still awake?" He walks over and, out of habit, rubs the top of my head. "Why haven't you turned on a light?"

For the past two years he'd often do that — ruffle my hair like that. I always thought I could lean on him.

I once believed he had saved me from all that bullying. Looking at it now, I was wrong.

Austin seems to sense something off. He looks down at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired today." Besides that, I can't think of a more convincing excuse.

He doesn't press. Instead he turns and opens the gift box on the table.

Before, I would have taken that as respect for my feelings — not wanting to push me on things I didn't want to talk about. Now, the less he asks, the more I can't help wondering whether he ever really cared.

He lifts the scarf and glances at it twice, then asks, "You knitted this?"

I nod, and watch him toss it back onto the table, his tone careless. "Claire, your taste really is as terrible as ever."

Before tonight, I probably would have blushed and argued back.

I might even have thought he was teasing me on purpose.

Now I know he said it because that's genuinely what he thinks.

Yes. It really is ugly.

Just like me, standing beside him — ugly and clumsy.

I used to take his coldness for poor expression, and because of those occasional moments of tenderness, I convinced myself I was the one he favored. Looking back now, I can't even tell which parts were real and which were only part of the bet.

I lower my head. "If you don't like it, don't wear it."

Austin glances at me, reaches out and pulls me into his arms, rubs my earlobe in a soothing way.

"Can't bear to see me go?" He rests his chin on the top of my head.

I don't answer.

I can't even tell myself whether I'm more reluctant to let him go or more angry.

When I stay silent, he bends down and kisses me, forceful and domineering.

His hand clamps on my waist so I can't shrink back.

Austin's big hand kneads my breast, his fingertips working the tip, pulling hard.

The smell of whisky on him is heavy. I close my eyes, and the tears still come.

Seeing me cry, Austin stops and kisses my forehead.

"Why are you crying? Are you uncomfortable?"

I raise a hand to wipe my tears and look into his deep eyes.

He doesn't love me. The words I heard keep stabbing at my heart.

But even knowing he doesn't love me, I'm still captivated by his face.

Fine. Let this be a reward for myself. Tonight I'll sleep with him, and after this I won't remember him anymore.

"It's nothing. It's just — you're leaving." I stop looking at him, close my eyes, and meet his lips. "I can't bear it."

My palm moves over the muscles at his waist, then lower, to that fire-like heat.

He doesn't love me, but at least his body has only ever belonged to me.

Austin hardens further under my touch. His tongue pushes into my mouth, pries my teeth apart, sucking hard.

After a long while he pushes me down onto the bed and lifts my leg. "I promise, I'll come back."

...

Early morning, the airport terminal.

Austin hands me a black card. "The PIN is your birthday. Buy whatever you want."

Charity.

Charity again.

He's simply used to paying me off.

I smile at him. "No need."

Austin looks at me and frowns, then puts the card away.

"Call me or my assistant if anything comes up. Don't let yourself be wronged."

I nod obediently, but it hurts inside.

He never cared whether I was wronged or not.

I hold down the disappointment and smile my goodbye. "Goodbye."

Really it means: never again.

Austin looks back at me for a moment. Maybe I really am strange today, but in the end he asks nothing. He just waves and turns into the security line.

He probably thinks I'll still wait for him like a fool.

Only when his figure disappears into the crowd do I take out my phone.

I take out the SIM card and, without hesitating, throw it in the trash.

Back at the apartment, I go through all the money he's spent on me over the years, item by item, list it out, work out the total, and transfer it back to his account.

Goodbye, Austin.

There will never again be a Claire in this world for you all to laugh at.