Page 63 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

He ran a hand through his white hair. Even as the thought formed, he knew it wasn't true. His feelings for Wren went beyond mere attraction or possession. There was a connection there, something deep and profound that he couldn't explain.

As he approached the mansion, Articus made a decision. He would talk to Wren openly and honestly. No more dancing around the issue, no more half-truths and assumptions. They would lay everything out on the table and figure out a way forward together.

And If she wants to leave, I'll let her go.

He steeled himself against the pain the idea caused, but Articus was now sure that this was the right thing to do.

With renewed determination, Articus pushed open the door, stepping inside the warmth of the mansion. The familiar scents of home washed over him, but something felt off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but an uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

"Wren?" he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet hallway.

No answer.

He walked briskly toward the kitchen, half expecting to find her there. But the room was empty, no sign of Wren's usual morning routine.

She's probably still asleep.

Frowning, Articus made his way upstairs to the bedroom. The tightness in his chest grew as he took the steps two at a time. The bedroom door creaked open under his hand, revealing a perfectly made bed, the faint scent of her lavender shampoo still hanging in the air. But no Wren.

"Wren?" he called again, louder this time. The silence that answered him was deafening.

Where are you?

His pulse quickened, a sense of foreboding curling around his thoughts. Panic began to rise in his chest, but he pushed it down.

Stay calm. There has to be an explanation.

He strode back downstairs, his heightened senses alert for any sign of Wren. That's when he spotted Edward, the butler, emerging from the study.

"Edward," Articus said, trying to keep his voice level, "have you seen Wren?"

Edward straightened, his expression serious. "No, Sir. The last time I saw her was earlier this morning."

Articus’s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. Before he could respond, Martha, the housekeeper, appearedfrom the direction of the laundry room. Her usually cheerful face was creased with worry.

"Mr. Articus," she said, wringing her hands. "I was just about to come find you. I can't find Miss Wren anywhere. And, and..." she hesitated, glancing at Edward.

"And what, Martha?" Articus prompted, dread settling in his stomach.

"Well, Sir, I found something in Miss Wren's bathroom. I wasn't snooping, I swear, I was just tidying up and..." Martha reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small plastic stick.

Articus's world tilted on its axis as he recognized the pregnancy test. Two pink lines stared back at him, unmistakable in their meaning.

Pregnant. Wren is pregnant.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through him—shock, joy, fear, guilt. His mind raced, trying to process this new information. A child. Their child. A tiny life created from their love, growing inside Wren.

I’m going to be a father.

And she… she’s been dealing with this alone.

Oh, Wren.

The thought of her running away, possibly in a fragile state, ignited a surge of protective rage deep within him. Articus’s hands clenched into fists as he straightened, his gaze hardening.

Did you think I wouldn’t want the baby?

Wren had run away. She was out there somewhere, alone and pregnant, thinking he didn't want her. And their child.

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