Page 26 of The CEO Alpha’s Substitute Mate

Luca moves in against my hip.

“Wait.” Isabella turns her head. “Is this your son?”

She crosses to us and goes down into a crouch in front of him, taking his jaw to turn his face into the light, left, then right. “He looks just like you. Incredible.”

“He’s a person. Stop handling him like that. He’s not a goat.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can censor them. The woman lets go of him, straightens up, then looks at me properly for the first time, from the sneakers to the hair I haven’t fixed since the studio. One eyebrow goes up.

“And you are the nanny?”

“I’m his mother.”

“No, you’re not.” She scoffs. “I knew Maya. You’re not her.”

My knees nearly give under me. She knew my sister?

“What?”

Luca’s voice is small, and my blood turns to ice. Oh shit. He heard that.

“Nothing, Luca,” Callum cuts in, his voice calm, but I can hear the undertones of anger in it.

But the child has already heard the truth. He lets go of my leg and steps back so he can see my face, with his eyebrows pulled together in the middle.

“Why did she say you’re not my mom?”

Callum moves toward him. Isabella gets there first. “Because she’s not. Your mother is Maya.”

“Maya?” Luca looks toward me, his face pale. “Auntie Maya was my mom?”

“Enough, Isabella,” Callum snaps. “Shut your mouth.”

My heart is slamming, and I crouch in front of Luca. “Luca, don’t listen to anyone. I’m your mother.”

“Why would she say you’re not?”

Isabella turns to Callum, her tone incredulous. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Isabella. Go inside.”

“Fine. I’m sorry.” She pulls her bag up against her side. “I thought he knew. You should have told me he didn’t know who his real mother was.”

“Just shut up!” I’ve never once shouted in front of my son, but today I can’t stop myself. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Her face tightens. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Who do you think you are?”

“Isabella.” Callum’s voice drops, and everybody on the steps stops moving. “Get inside the house before I throw you out.”

She glares at him and then storms inside.

Luca is standing on a driveway in a uniform that’s still too big at the shoulders, looking up at me, waiting, his face too pale for my liking.

“Listen, Luca.” I get both of his hands. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Why would she say it? Are you my mom or not?”

I had a plan for this. A quiet Sunday, the right week, words I’d have picked out beforehand. Instead I’m doing it on gravel with two men watching and the staff at the windows.