Three Alpha Bikers Wants An Open Marriage

“I’m sorry, Miss Riley… but your son didn’t make it.”

The surgeon’s words still echoed in my head as I gripped the steering wheel harder, driving faster, the leather digging into my palms. I could still see his face—the sadness in his eyes, the quiet way he spoke, like even he couldn’t find the right words to soften the blow he dropped.

But there is no gentle way to tell a mother her baby is gone.

He was eight months old.

Eight months of fighting.

Eight months of hoping.

My baby boy.

My little fighter who came into this world with weak lungs and tiny hands, but a h eartbeat that stole mine the first time I held him. He had been sick since day one. One infection after the other. Hospital visits. Medication. Sleepless nights. I lived my life between the company and the NICU.

And now last night was the worst. He had trouble breathing again, and his oxygen levels dropped dangerously low. I had rushed him to the hospital in my pajamas, cradling his burning little body against mine, whispering to him that it would be okay.

But it wasn’t.

The doctors said he needed emergency surgery. I sat alone all night in the hospital hallway, praying. Begging. Holding onto hope like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

I called Ethan, my husband. I told him what was happening. I told him it was serious—that this time it felt different. I told him I was scared.

I needed him. Our son needed him.

But he didn’t come.

He didn’t answer the second time. Or the third.

And hours later, he picked up the call...His reply?

“I’m busy. Just take care of it and make sure nothing happens to him.” but now something has actually happened to him.

And now… here I am. Dressed in black. Not just because I buried my son this morning, but because something inside me died with him.

I should’ve stayed home. I should’ve been in bed, or curled up somewhere holding onto the last onesie he wore, crying until I couldn’t breathe. But I wasn’t allowed that kind of peace. Not in this life. Not when I had a company to run and a reputation to keep intact.

So I showed up.

Because today wasn’t just the day I buried my own child. Today was also the day some so-called “important” investors, according to Ethan, were supposed to meet us—*his* friends, men he’d been talking to for years, trying to get them to invest in the company. He said it was crucial I be there. That we couldn’t afford to mess it up.

And not even grief was a good enough excuse.

Our company sits at the edge of Crescent Hollow, a city where humans live alongside packs—mostly in an uneasy truce. It’s a place where dominance can be sensed in the air, and hierarchy matters more than laws. You can feel it in the way people move. In the subtle nods exchanged between us. In the silent rules that separate humans from wolves.

The car came to a slow stop outside the building in front of our company—the one we built together, though only one of us truly kept it standing. I run it every day while he… does whatever he pleases.

I took a deep breath, wiped at the corners of my eyes, and stepped out. The city didn’t stop for my pain. The sun still rose. The street was still loud, filled with the mix of humans and shifters going about their business. A pair of wolves in human form passed by on motorcycles, scents trailing behind them—sharp, wild, unmistakable.

And me? I was pretending to live.

I walked in through the main entrance. I could feel eyes on me. Inside, conversations died mid-sentence as people noticed me. The receptionist’s hand froze over the keyboard. Her eyes glossed, her lips parted, like she wanted to offer condolences but didn’t know if she was allowed to. No one spoke. Maybe out of fear. Maybe out of respect. Maybe because no one knows what to say to a woman who has just buried her child yet still walks into work.

They’ve all heard. In Crescent Hollow, news travels faster than gossip. Maybe word had already spread that Riley Grayson—CEO, human, mated to a high-ranking wolf—had lost her baby and still showed up to work hours after his funeral.

I didn’t care.

My heels clicked against the tile floor as I headed toward the elevators, each step heavier than the last. Grief sat in my chest like a weight, pressing against my ribs, but I kept my chin up. My back straight. No one would see me crumble.

Never! Not yet.

I should go straight to the boardroom right now. I knew they’d be waiting. I knew they were all probably whispering behind closed doors, wondering what version of Riley would show up today.

But instead, I turned toward the executive wing because I needed to see Ethan—just for a moment.

I didn’t even know why. Maybe I was looking for something in his face. Some sign that he cared. Some flicker of guilt. Or maybe I just wanted to hear him say something—anything that proved I wasn’t the only one drowning in this and perhaps give me the courage to face the board despite the sadness that gripped my entire system.

The hallway was quiet as I walked past the offices and paused outside his door. My hand hovered over the handle, hesitating. My heart thudded in my chest, fast and loud like it wanted to run away but I wouldn’t do that. Riley Grayson doesn’t run, she fights.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

But I wasn’t ready for what I was about to find.