Everyone Thought the Alpha King’s Pup Was Sick—The New Maid Found 34 Needles in His Fur

Lady Seraphina’s eyes darted from Lawson to Abigail, settling on their joined hands with a look of intense disgust.

"And who is this common girl?" Seraphina sneered, taking a sharp step forward. "Lawson, you have lost your mind. Your son is dying, your borders are unstable, and now you are imprisoning your royal medical staff on the word of a nursery servant?"

Lawson released Abigail’s hand and stepped into Seraphina’s path. His presence was so terrifyingly dominant that even the two beta warriors behind Seraphina took a step back, lowering their eyes.

"Lady Vane was poisoning my son," Lawson said flatly.

Seraphina froze for a fraction of a second, her red lips parting slightly before she quickly regained her composure. "Poisoning? That is absurd! Vane has served our family for twenty years!"

"She pulled thirty-four silver needles from Finn’s flesh last night," Lawson growled, pointing to the silver tray on the desk.

Seraphina glanced at the black steel needles, her jaw tightening. "Needles? Lawson, this girl could have easily placed them there herself to win your favor! She is a refugee! She has no background check on file!"

Abigail stepped forward, her calm, measured voice cutting through Seraphina’s shrill accusations.

"If I had placed those needles there, Lady Seraphina," Abigail said, "the pup’s body would be in anaphylactic shock right now. Look at him."

Seraphina looked toward the cot.

Finn was sitting up, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. He looked around the room, spotted Abigail, and immediately held out his arms.

"Abi," Finn whimpered softly, his sweet voice filling the quiet lab.

Abigail walked past Seraphina, kneeling beside the cot and gently lifting the boy into her arms. Finn buried his small face into Abigail’s neck, hugging her tightly.

Seraphina’s eyes flashed with pure, venomous hatred.

"See?" Seraphina snapped. "She has manipulated the child! Lawson, I demand that the High Council be convened immediately! You cannot make decisions regarding the royal heir based on the claims of a peasant!"

"The High Council does not govern my son’s life, Seraphina," Lawson warned, his golden eyes flashing with dangerous alpha fire. "I do. And if anyone in that council room has a problem with it, they can challenge me in the ring."

Seraphina swallowed hard, knowing no warrior in the Northern Territories could survive five minutes in the ring against Lawson Cross.

"Fine," Seraphina spat, adjusting her crimson fur stole. "Protect your little maid. But when the council demands answers about the financial drain of Finn's continuous medical expenses, I will not cover for you."

She turned on her heel and swept out of the room, her heavy skirt rustling loudly against the stone floor.

Abigail looked up at Lawson, her expression grim.

"She knew," Abigail whispered softly.

Lawson turned to her, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Lady Seraphina," Abigail said, gently rubbing Finn’s back. "When she looked at the silver tray, she didn't ask what kind of needles they were. She didn't look surprised by the matte black enamel. She only looked angry that they were out."

Lawson’s eyes darkened into a terrifying shade of obsidian.

"Seraphina controls the royal treasury," Lawson muttered, his brain piecing together the political web. "Every month, millions of gold marks were allocated for Finn’s rare imported 'medicines' from the Southern Empire."

"Medicines that were never bought," Abigail finished. "The money was being funneled somewhere else. And Finn was kept dying so the funds would keep flowing."

Lawson slammed his fist into the stone wall beside him, cracking the granite.

"They used my son’s agony to fund a coup," Lawson roared, his voice shaking the foundation of the room.

Finn whimpered, startled by the loud noise, hiding deeper into Abigail’s shoulder.

Lawson instantly checked his anger, stepping closer and dropping to his knees beside Abigail and his son. He reached out, his massive, scarred hand gently smoothing Finn’s hair.

"Forgive me, little wolf," Lawson murmured softly to his son.

Finn looked out from Abigail’s neck, reaching out one tiny hand to touch his father’s cheek. "Daddy... no cry."

A single tear slipped down Lawson’s hardened face, disappearing into his dark beard.

"He hasn't spoken a word in eight months," Lawson whispered, looking up at Abigail with absolute reverence. "He hasn't called me 'Daddy' since winter."