Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother

Lilith’s POV

"Leo, enough," Silas said firmly. "Whatever her mistakes, she remains your sister by blood."

I could feel the tension crackling in the air as Silas grabbed Leo’s clenched fist. Leo’s jaw was tight, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he fought against his Alpha’s command.

The words stung more than they should have. Once, I would have found comfort in them, grateful that my family still acknowledged our connection, even knowing I wasn’t my father’s biological child. But after all I’d endured, those words felt hollow. They were nothing more than an attempt at mercy.

I, Lilith Hartwell, once the respected daughter of the Shadowpine Pack’s Alpha and future Luna to the Blood Moon Pack, was now someone barely tolerated here. My wolf Thea whimpered inside me, sharing my pain.

Silas’s Beta, Alfred, was tasked with escorting me to the gardens to find my daughter. Alfred was Sabrina’s father.He had been with our pack for decades, his tall, lean frame and the long scar running down his face making him appear intimidating to outsiders. But his eyes held a kindness I’d always found comforting.

"This way, Ms. Lilith," he said, his formal address another reminder of how much had changed. Once, I was "little Lillie" to him.

As we walked through the familiar corridors of my childhood home, Alfred sighed heavily beside me.

"Lilith, Sabrina told me about your condition. I hope you’ll take good care of yourself.And please don’t take their behavior to heart." he said quietly, glancing around to ensure we weren’t overheard.

"Your father and brother are blinded by lies and their own pride.I’ve always believed your mother was wrongfully accused. Now you’ve suffered the same fate. The evidence never added up, but..."

He shook his head, regret clear in his eyes. "I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better. I promised your mother before she passed that I’d look after you."

"Thank you, Alfred," I said. "Your belief means more than you know. I’ll handle my problems,don’t worry about me."

If I had more time, I would have fought to clear my mother’s name.But with my body failing and Clara needing protection, I had to focus on what mattered most right now.

We rounded the corner to the gardens where I spotted Vanessa and her mother Lexi sitting with my daughter Clara. My heart clenched at the sight of my little girl, her small hands carefully turning the pages of a picture book while Vanessa pretended interest.

As I approached, Vanessa stood, offering a treat box with a practiced smile.

"Sister!" she called, her voice dripping with false warmth.

I swept Clara into my arms, feeling her small body press against mine.

"I’m not your sister, Vanessa," I stated flatly.

Her smile didn’t waver."Sister, about you seeking out Brett,I understand completely. After all—"

"Save it," I cut her off sharply. My patience for her performance had run dry long ago. "Let me give you some advice, Vanessa. As Brett always says, the Moon Goddess sees all. Those who deal in darkness eventually face her judgment."

Lexi bristled beside her daughter. "How dare you speak to her that way?"

I didn’t bother responding, already turning away with Clara in my arms. I caught Vanessa grabbing her mother’s arm, restraining her.

"Mom, let it go," she whispered.

***

I knew with certainty that we couldn’t count on Brett for Clara’s future. The Alpha of Blood Moon Pack had made his position brutally clear when he’d rejected our mate bond and denied his own daughter. My little girl would need to learn to stand on her own two feet.

Back at our modest apartment, all I could afford since losing my pack privileges, I sat down and wrote out a detailed plan. The doctors had given me months at most. Each day, the sickness crept further through my body, my wolf’s healing abilities no match for the disease.

"Clara," I called softly to my daughter. She looked up from her toys, her intelligent eyes questioning. "Starting today, you need to learn to cook for yourself. No food unless you prepare it."

Her small brows furrowed in confusion. "Mom, are you serious?"

My heart cracked seeing her bewilderment, but I kept my voice gentle. "I’ll teach you, sweetheart."

I was already searching for an adoptive family,someone who would care for her when I was gone. But I knew how difficult it would be for a deaf, scentless wolf child to find acceptance. If she could at least handle household chores, perhaps her new family would value her more, see beyond her limitations.

Clara was eager at first, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of "cooking like Mommy." But reality quickly set in. She could barely reach the counter, and the knife was nearly impossible for her small hands to manage safely.

"Mom, can’t I learn when I’m bigger?" she asked.

"When I’m bigger." Those words pierced my heart. How I longed to see her grow up, to protect her through every stage of life.

For the first time in her life, I had to be truly strict with her. "No, Clara. If you don’t learn to cook, we won’t eat tonight."

She looked at me. "Mom, why do I ‘have’ to learn to cook now?"

Some truths were too cruel to voice. I softened, stroking her hair.

"Every skill you learn is another protection against hunger."

"But I have you," she replied innocently. "I’ll never go hungry with you here."

I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.

Seeing my reddening eyes, Clara misunderstood, thinking I was upset with her defiance. She quickly picked up the knife again, determined to please me.

"Ouch!" A second later, she’d sliced her small finger, blood welling up and dripping onto the cutting board.

My instinct screamed to rush to her, to gather her close and kiss away her pain as I’d always done before. But instead, I merely handed her a bandage.

"No crying, Clara," I said firmly. "Put on the bandage and continue cutting."

Her brave little face broke something inside me. She tried so hard not to cry despite her bandaged fingers. But I had to stay strong. Every lesson now was another shield for her future without me.

I looked at our small kitchen table. Two plates sat there. One held my daughter’s first attempt at pasta, overcooked and clumped together. The other was my perfectly made lasagna, Clara’s absolute favorite.

"Clara, dinner’s ready!" I called.

She came running in. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the lasagna. As she reached eagerly for her favorite dish, I gently stopped her hand.

"Until you learn to cook pasta properly, you can’t have Mom’s lasagna," I said firmly.

I saw the hurt in her eyes, tears threatening to fall. My wolf Thea whined inside me, urging me to comfort our pup.

"No crying," I said firmly. "Eat the pasta you made."

I took a bite of the lasagna, watching her carefully. "From now on, you need to learn to cook for yourself. Everything in life must be earned through your own efforts. No one will take care of your needs for you."

I pretended to focus on my food. But my eyes kept returning to her small bandaged hands. The cuts from the knife. The burn from the pot. Each mark on her delicate skin felt like a wound on my own heart.

That evening, Clara sat quietly eating her overcooked pasta. Confusion and hurt filled her eyes. She couldn’t understand why her mother had suddenly become so strict.

At bedtime, she looked at me with such hope that it nearly broke my resolve. "Mom, can you please hold me until I fall asleep? I’m scared," she whispered.

I swallowed hard. "Clara, new rule number two: from now on, you sleep by yourself. No asking to be comforted."

After turning off the light, I retreated to our tiny living room. In our one-bedroom apartment, the sofa would have to be my bed now. I laid out a blanket, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Just after midnight, I crept back into the bedroom. Clara was finally sleeping peacefully, her little face relaxed in dreams that I prayed were kinder than her reality. Every fiber of my being flooded with guilt as I carefully gathered her small form into my arms.

"I’m so sorry, sweetheart," I whispered.

"Mommy isn’t the mother you deserve. I can’t... I won’t be here to watch you grow up."

My tears fell onto her sleeping face as I held her close.

"You’ll have to walk your path alone."