Sarah POV
Ever since I adopted my daughter, I've been in a non-stop battle, constantly updating my adoption papers to prove I can offer a stable upbringing. Here's the kicker: I'm a human living in a werewolf society, a young, single mother. And my daughter? She's a werewolf cub. After years of red tape, I finally had every form locked down, foolproof.
"Sorry, this doesn't meet our standards," the officer stated icily.
"Why not? Give me a valid reason," I said.
“What are you? Nanny, maid, babysitter? You don't have a steady job, do you?” The werewolf cop tossed my proof of income onto the table then picked up the adoption papers.
“Yes,” I admitted calmly. “I do any job that can provide a stable life for my daughter.”
Whether as a nanny, babysitter, or maid, it was all about earning enough money. I didn’t have better options, despite my degree in childhood education. As I said, I'm human, and few schools would accept a human teacher.
“I plan to apply for a teaching position once Chloe is old enough,” I said, pulling out my degree certificate to prove my qualifications. “Given my human status, if hired, my salary and work hours might not support raising a child.”
With a snap, the cop threw the file on the table, his werewolf eyes filled with icy skepticism. “Can you explain why this child was left on your doorstep six years ago?” he demanded. “You know, we've received multiple reports claiming you're a human trafficker, a child snatcher.”
“I've proven my innocence countless times already. I have complete adoption documents and enough evidence to show I’m blameless.” I've answered these accusations many times, each time with a more solid chain of evidence. I was practically bulletproof, as the cop probably realized when he fell into a brief silence after reviewing my papers.
Six years ago, Chloe was left on my doorstep, swaddled with just a card listing her name and birthday. That night, I'd just received a job offer to become a teaching assistant—a total surprise, and then I found Chloe.
At first, I took her to the orphanage, but it was mostly filled with human kids. It was understandable that these kids, bearing the brunt of injustice, might lash out at an innocent werewolf baby. I knew about their unfair treatment, but I couldn't let the tragedy continue. When I discovered wounds on Chloe’s body, I made up my mind to adopt her, no matter the cost.
Perhaps fate meant for Chloe to be left at my doorstep. I eventually turned down the teacher assistant offer, as the modest salary from that busy job couldn't support a child. I chose Chloe and was ready to give her everything—love, a family, companionship—things I never had growing up in an orphanage myself.
I thought I had everything perfectly under control until the cop spoke again, “If you're not married or holding a single, steady job by next month, we'll assume you don't have the conditions to raise this child.”
“What?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “I thought no law said a single mom couldn't raise her own child. My income proof and savings totally meet adoption standards. I don't think you would treat a werewolf mother this way!”
“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the officer stated coldly. “Based on your documents, I see too many instabilities. If you don’t marry or find a stable job with a sufficient income by next month, we’ll judge you unable to continue caring for this child.”
As the werewolf left, I sank back into my chair, watching the clock’s second hand tick slowly. I realized it was time to pick up Chloe from daycare.
What should I do? Maybe I should find a man to marry just for show, but I don’t trust strangers. And finding a job immediately would be nearly impossible in this society too prejudiced for humans.
I put all such thoughts aside because it was time for Chloe to come home.
At the daycare, surrounded by mother wolves, I was the only human, subjected to their scrutinizing glances.
“Why is there a human here?” one werewolf mom asked her friend. I tried to ignore it.
“Oh, maybe she's a nanny. ”
“Oh, you guys don't know? She has a werewolf baby.”
I didn’t care about the mother wolves' opinions. Waiting for Chloe to finish her day at daycare was all that mattered to me. I could almost hear time passing, children packing up their crayons, books, and small toys. As they walked out of the classroom under the teacher's gentle instructions, they ran toward the daycare gates.
From afar, I heard Chloe’s cheers, and I smiled, waiting for my life's greatest love to jump into my arms.
“Maybe she stole the kid.”
“Who knows? She’s just a nanny, Child Protective Services might take away her custody rights soon.”
Their words stung, and I indeed faced such a predicament. These mother wolves discussed me as though I couldn’t hear them, as if I were invisible.
A little whirlwind burst out the front door of the kindergarten, ran down the short path, and leapt into my arms. Chloe, pink-cheeked and laughing, her short blond hair flipping about in the breeze, emitted a tender howl of protection for me that took those werewolf mothers aback.
“Alpha?” one of them murmured in disbelief.
Yeah, I thought. My little bundle was an alpha, and she was happy to have me as her mother. Take that, I mentally sent to all those condescending ladies.
I looked Chloe over, instinctively checking for scrapes or whatever else might be out of place after hanging out with werewolf children for several hours, but she looked right as rain, from her glowing blue eyes to her adorably smiling lips.
She beamed at me, and we took each other’s hand as we turned for home. The wind caressed my hair, and in that moment, I felt supremely happy.
“When I grow up,” Chloe said, “I will be a strong and brave werewolf, just like my father.”
“You absolutely will,” I said, wondering if she were going to ask me yet again about her sire.
“And then nobody will dare bully my mommy.”
My pre-loaded agreement with whatever she said stalled in my throat. I felt battling waves of sorrow, that she should feel the need to protect her mother, and joy, that she should welcome the need to protect me, battle in my heart. I searched desperately for something to say.
But it turned out I needn’t have gone to the effort. Chloe was pulling my sleeve toward a storefront displaying a half-dozen wide-screen TVs.
I recognized the man on the screen instantly, not needing the slug line beneath the image to tell me it was Zane Cavendish, the famed alpha werewolf, by all accounts a workaholic, and definitely #1 World’s Most Handsome Male Werewolf, though personally I would put him up against males of any species. He had crisp black hair and those silver-blue eyes typical of an alpha werewolf.
He was also something of a mystery, Mr. Cavendish, basically a recluse. He’d had twin girl babies, one of whom had disappeared several years ago, setting off a media frenzy that had driven him from the public eye.
Chloe was jumping up and down with excitement now and pointing at the screen.
“What is it, honey?” I asked.
“That’s my father!” she yelled. “That’s my daddy!”
