Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother-Chapter 114 How could this happen?

Author’s pov:

The emergency room buzzed with activity as the police rushed to collect and examine the bullets. In a private wing of Memorial Hospital, Mona sat vigilantly beside Ethan’s bed, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

Ethan lay motionless, his face ashen as if all life had been drained from him. The doctors had removed the bullets from his legs, but the damage Damien had inflicted to his groin was catastrophic. The bullet had shattered bone and severed vital tissues—the prognosis was absolute. Not only would he never function as a man again, but his ability to father children was also permanently destroyed.

"How could this happen?" Mona whispered, dabbing at her tears with a tissue. "Ethan, you have to stay strong."

But strength seemed beyond Ethan’s reach now. The humiliation of being rushed into surgery, surrounded by medical staff working on his most private areas, had stripped away whatever dignity he had left. His wolf, Leon, had retreated deep within him, whimpering in defeat and shame.

The night had been a complete disaster. Any hope of reclaiming Victoria was obliterated. The power he’d dreamed of—becoming Alpha through her—was forever beyond his reach. And now, the final blow: he would never father children, never pass on his bloodline. The Sterling name would not continue through him—all because of Damien.

As Mona watched Ethan’s broken form, her mind began calculating. She had always aimed to marry into wealth and power—to become part of a prestigious pack. While she had been content to be Ethan’s mistress, knowing he was married to Scarlett, this new development changed everything.

Just days ago, they had been intimate. If she had conceived then, that child would now be Ethan’s only chance at legacy—his only heir. The thought crystallized in her mind: this tragedy might be her opportunity.

"Ethan," she said softly, squeezing his hand, "I need to step out for a bit. I’ll be back soon. Try to rest."

His eyes flickered toward her, empty and unseeing, before closing again.

Mona slipped out of the hospital room, her wolf Lyra pacing anxiously within her. She needed to secure her future—now. If she wasn’t already pregnant from their last encounter, she needed to become pregnant immediately—with a child she could pass off as Ethan’s.

The digital clock on her phone read 2:17 AM as she made her way to The Howl, a popular nightclub where both werewolves and humans mingled, though most humans remained oblivious to the supernatural identities around them. The late hour meant only the most determined partiers remained, their inhibitions lowered by alcohol and the primal beat of the music.

Mona applied fresh lipstick in her compact mirror before entering. Her tight black dress hugged every curve of her body, the neckline plunging to reveal the swell of her breasts. She had deliberately chosen not to wear perfume, allowing her natural omega pheromones to attract potential mates.

Inside, the club pulsed with bodies and bass. She scanned the crowd, immediately identifying a group of men—wolves from the looks of them—laughing and drinking at a corner booth. Perfect.

She approached the bar first, ordering a vodka tonic she had no intention of drinking. Props were important for the role she was about to play.

"Another round for my friends over there," she told the bartender, nodding toward the men’s table.

When the drinks arrived, she feigned stumbling slightly as she carried them over.

"Compliments of a lonely wolf," she said with a practiced giggle, setting the tray down.

Five pairs of eyes turned to her—hungry, appreciative. She could smell their interest immediately, their scents sharpening with arousal.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you around before," said one, his dark hair styled in an undercut, muscular frame evident beneath his fitted shirt. His wolf’s scent was strong—an alpha or at least a high-ranking beta. "I’m Drake."

"Mona," she replied, letting her fingers brush against his as she handed him his drink. "Just looking for some company tonight."

Another wolf, slightly older with salt-and-pepper hair, shifted to make room for her. "Then you’ve found it. I’m Vincent."

As she squeezed in between them, Mona allowed her dress to ride up her thighs. She leaned forward, ensuring they all got a good view of her cleavage. "So what brings such handsome wolves out so late?"

"Business trip," Drake answered, his hand finding its way to her knee. "Last night in town before heading back east."

Perfect—strangers passing through. No connections to local packs. No one who might recognize her later.

Mona played her role flawlessly, pretending to drink while encouraging them to continue with their own alcohol. She laughed too loudly at their jokes, pressed her body against theirs, and made suggestive comments until the air around them was thick with pheromones and intent.

"My hotel’s just across the street," Vincent suggested after an hour of flirtatious exchanges.

Mona feigned drunken consideration before nodding enthusiastically. "Only if all of you come," she said, looking around at the group. "I’m feeling... generous tonight."

The suite Vincent had booked was spacious, with a king-sized bed that soon became the center of attention. Mona wasted no time, her plan clear in her mind even as she pretended to be caught up in drunken lust.

"Who’s first?" she purred, unzipping her dress and letting it pool at her feet.

Drake moved forward, his eyes flashing amber as his wolf pushed close to the surface. "I don’t share well," he growled to the others, but Mona placed a finger on his lips.

"Tonight, you do," she insisted. "Or I walk."

What followed was exactly what Mona had planned—a night of calculated debauchery. She positioned herself so that each man could take his turn, ensuring maximum chance of conception. She moaned and writhed convincingly as Drake entered her first, his movements rough and dominant as befitted his alpha nature.

"Harder," she demanded, arching her back as he gripped her hips with bruising force. She needed this—needed him to drive as deep as possible.

Vincent followed, his technique more measured but equally thorough. The others took their turns as well, each one adding to the likelihood of her plan’s success.

Between partners, Mona was careful not to clean herself, wanting to retain every drop that might help create the heir she needed. She played the role of the insatiable omega, when in reality, each encounter was simply another step toward her goal of becoming Mrs. Sterling.