The Alpha’s Caregiver is a Mafia

The door slammed open, and a middle-aged man, golden-haired with eyes burning with pure fury, barged into the room. His gaze flew to the bed where a woman lay, hair just as golden, bright as if kissed by the sunset. 

She was sweating profusely, holding a baby, folded in clothing, and with one look, it was clear that she had just given birth. But none of that was the problem right now, because this man, her father, looked murderous, disappointed, and disgusted. 

"Father…" 

"What have you done?" He took a staggering step forward. "Elaine, what. Have. You. Done?!" 

The woman Elaine began sobbing, blue eyes wet with hot tears that streamed down her face. She apologetically shook her head. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" 

The man glanced at the maids within the room, thundering, "GET OUT. NOW!" 

They all puttered away, leaving both father and daughter in the room alone to themselves. The double door slammed shut, and he stormed towards her. 

"You've been pregnant all this while, Elaine?" he questioned. 

She was a sobbing mess. "Father, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I just couldn't…I couldn't tell anyone because…" She slapped a free hand over her mouth, begging with her eyes. "I'm so sorry…" 

"Is your mate aware of this?" 

"What?" 

"I asked, is Johnathan aware of this?" the man questioned. "Does your mate know that you had an affair?" 

She forced herself to slow down before shaking her head. It was as if every shred of hope the man held at that moment visibly left his body, and he pinched between his brows. 

"Let me see the child." He walked over and watched as she opened the clothing a bit, revealing the baby. 

It was a girl, with hazel eyes—a beautiful mix of golden brown and green, nothing blue like her mother's, looking up at him. A single finger of his reached out, touching her hair. Soft, golden, and beautiful, as if bathed in warm sunset hues. The color that neither humans nor even any other pack possessed. Only those related to him did, the very same as her mother and his. 

But then his nose twitched, and he recoiled a bit, shifting his widened gaze to Elaine. 

"Why does she smell human?" 

Elaine visibly tensed. She couldn't dare look him in the eyes, and the man began shaking his head. 

"No, no, Elaine, this is a joke; this has to be a joke." 

She looked up at him. "Father, I-I know how this looks, but—" 

"A human! Elaine, you had an affair with a freaking HUMAN?!" he snapped, trembling with anger. "What have I done to you, Elaine? Why can't you give me peace for once? What will they think? What will they say? A half-human child? My pack, the first to…" The man chuckled and shook his head like he'd gone crazy. "No, no, th-that's not possible. I can't let that happen. I am the alpha for a reason, and you, Elaine, you will not and will never be the death of your own father!" 

He snatched the child from her and began storming to the door. 

Elaine crawled off the bed after him. "Father, please, please, you can't hurt a child. She didn't do anything wrong. I-if you're going to punish anyone, please hurt me, not the child." 

He halted, turned, and looked at her. "This child will not be kept. Over my dead body." 

"No, please!" she begged. "Please don't kill her. T-the human side, you can take her there. There are orphanages, and people who might want her. Please, just give her away. Don't hurt her. Please, I'll do anything you want, I'll be better, I promise, father. Just…do this one last thing for me. Let her live." 

The man stared at her, visible rage storming in his eyes. He didn't say a word to her, instead, he turned and left, slamming the door shut. 

————————- 

"These little raccoons are messing up the garbage can again. I can't even have a decent sleep!" a woman scoffed from inside the house, making her way towards the door. 

"Just let it be, Beatrice, it's not like they will stop," her husband Vincent mumbled, holding a glass of wine in his hand. "You keep complaining about them but never actually do anything." 

"Well, Mr., I wonder whatever I can do. Maybe instead of whining over there, you can actually give your wife a hand with this."

"I have a business to deal with—" 

"The mafia can wait, Vincent! This is irritating." 

"I swear, you're such a pain." He rolled his eyes, dropping his phone on the sofa. 

The woman, Beatrice, opened the door and stepped down, attempting to hurry to the garbage can, but she stopped, lowering her head at the sight of a child, literally a newborn baby, left on the concrete floor in only nothing but wrapped up in white clothing. 

"What the…" She cautiously looked around first before lifting the baby into her arms. "Oh shit, Vincent, I think someone abandoned their baby at our doorstep." 

"Huh?" Vincent walked through the door, stopping shortly as his eyes fell on the baby in her arms. "Whose baby is this?" 

"No idea." She shrugged. "I just saw her here. They didn't even put her in a basket." She brushed her fingers through her hair. "I've never seen a baby with this much hair." 

"Me neither." 

Beatrice sighed. "What a beautiful girl. Do you think she fell from the sky?" 

"Beatrice, this is not a movie." 

"I know. But look at her. Her hair is very beautiful." 

"Are we keeping her? I suggest we take her to an orphanage or—" 

"There is a note. Check what it says." 

Vincent grunted at his wife but picked up the note, opening it. 

[Her hair—please, conceal it by any means possible, it could cost her life. Her name is Poppy. Thank you, human, whoever you are. Take care of her, she's all yours]

"Humans? Now that sounds like she fell from the sky," Vincent muttered. 

"Who would ever want to hurt a baby, though?" Beatrice asked. 

"How would I know?" Vincent shrugged. "Please tell me we are not keeping this child. Something seems weird about all this, Beatrice." 

Beatrice slapped his arm. "Of course, we are keeping her. We don't have a kid, so she won't be a problem to raise. My goodness, you're a heartless monster, Vincent." 

The man made a face. "We don't even know who has this chil—" 

His wife ignored him, lowering her gaze to the baby, her finger running over her forehead. 

"Well, little angel." She smiled at her. "I guess you're a Brooks now. Poppy…Brooks. That is your name."