My Baby and I Died in Labor While He Celebrated Hers Chapter 8

Celeste’s POV

**Three months later**

On a spring afternoon, I came alone to the little gravestone on the hillside.

"Esme, Mommy's here again." I traced the carved letters with my fingertips. "It's such a beautiful day today."

As I turned to leave, I heard rustling in the nearby bushes. A wolf pup emerged—perhaps a few months old, with silver-gray fur that gleamed in the sunlight and amber eyes that watched me shyly.

"Well, hello there, little one." I crouched down and extended my hand.

The pup hesitated, then cautiously approached. She sniffed my fingers, then nuzzled her head against my palm.

"Go on now, find your mother." I stroked her little head. "She must be worried about you."

I stood and gently nudged her away. With one last look at the gravestone, I headed down the path.

Ten minutes later, I heard familiar footsteps behind me. I turned to find the little pup following at a careful distance of three meters.

"Why are you following me? Go home!" I called.

The pup let out a small, plaintive whine but refused to leave.

I walked on. She followed. I picked up my pace. So did she. I deliberately took several turns. She stayed right behind me. All the way down the mountain, the little one trailed after me, eyes full of longing.

By the time we reached the estate gates, I had given up. "Do you really have no family?"

The pup wagged her tail tentatively and approached, pressing her fuzzy head against my leg.

Looking into those clear, innocent eyes, my heart softened. Perhaps this meeting was fate.

"Alright, if you're that determined, come home with me." I scooped up the warm little body. "I'll give you a name. How about Esme?"

The pup made a contented sound in my arms.

Maybe this was my daughter's gift to me—a little soul to keep me company when I needed it most.

---

Back at the estate, I was playing with Esme in the garden when a faint, familiar sensation washed over me—the lingering remnants of the mate bond.

Even severed, in moments of crisis I could still sense his final consciousness. It was regret. Despair. Endless remorse.

He was telling me: he was wrong. He was sorry.

But it was far too late.

Soon after, the butler hurried over. "My lady, we've just received word. Caspian Thorne died today in a car accident. Apparently, the Taiga Pack orchestrated it as revenge for his execution of Genevieve."

*Caspian Thorne was dead.*

*That Alpha who had once stood so high above me. The man who had made me lower myself to the ground for love. The executioner who had destroyed me and my child with his own hands—dead.*

I stroked little Esme's soft fur, my eyes calm as still water. No satisfaction. No grief. Not even a ripple.

"The past is past," I said quietly. "We're looking forward now."

Little Esme nuzzled against my feet with a comforting sound, as if she could sense my emotions.

I looked up at the distant sky, where clouds drifted lazily across an endless blue.

From this day forward, I am the Alpha King's daughter. The heir to the Fenris Pack. That Omega who once hid her identity for love—she died in that bloody water cell.

The woman I am now is Celeste Pemberton, reborn.

I will carry my daughter's memory. I will carry the lessons of this pain. And together with the little life beside me, I will walk toward our future.