Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
His ears roared with static, his brain stuck on one gnawing, clawing question: Why did Hollander didn't tell him that he's going to be a father? The answer was obvious—because Shane Hollander didn’t need him, never had. The realization burned like cheap vodka in his throat, bitter and suffocating.
Some alpha reporter with slicked-back hair and a smirk dripping condescension leaned forward, microphone poised like a weapon. "Shane, what happened to all that talk about never bending for an alpha? Seems like someone finally put you on your back."
"And how are you so sure I'm the one who bent?" Hollander's voice cut through the noise like a blade, smooth and lethal. The room fell silent instantly. Hollander arched one eyebrow, lips curling in a smile so cold it could freeze hell over. "Not that it's your business, but for the record—it was me who rode my sperm donor’s dick to get myself pregnant."
Ilya froze. Sperm donor? The unfamiliar English phrase buzzed in his skull like a trapped wasp. Behind him, Connors snorted into his protein shake. "Oh Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "He just called his baby daddy a walking ATM for cum."