Category: English

I caught my ex Alpha cheating, so I texted the Lycan King I REJECTED: “Still want ME?” His reply came in 0.2 seconds: “On my knees in 5 minutes. Keep the door unlocked, baby.” I thought I was the one crawling back… Until the most powerful Lycan on earth kicked my apartment door off its hinges, eyes glowing gold. … “I, Evelyn Blackwood, reject you, Blake Drake, as my mate.” The pain of the bond snapping hit me like a freight train, but the betrayal cut deeper. I never thought my fiancé would screw my best friend. At eighteen, I awakened as a Healer, a rarity. At the Pairing Ball, my wolf sparked with Blake’s. I became the girl every Alpha wanted, the future Luna of the pack. Our binding ceremony was only a month away. He was in New York for the Global Pack Summit. I flew in to surprise him, but the surprise was on me. When I pushed open the hotel suite door, my keycard hit the floor. He was balls-deep in my so-called bestie. “Does Evelyn make you feel this good?” Vanessa moaned, her back arched. “Honey, she’s a dead fish in bed,” Blake gasped. “I close my eyes and imagine your face every time I touch her. Once the ceremony is over and I take over the company, I’ll have her power. That’s all I need her for.” I pulled out my phone, hit record, and walked in. “I got it all on video,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “The engagement is off. I reject you.” I headed straight to a dive bar, drowning the pain in whiskey. Just as a group of creeps started closing in, a suffocating pressure filled the room. An Alpha’s command. “You have three seconds to get lost.” “Or you die.” A man stepped out of the shadows. 6’7″, black shirt, and piercing violet-gold eyes that made my soul shiver. “You smell like…” He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “My mate.”

The rest was a blur of heat, sweat, and primal rhythm. It lasted all night. In the chaos, he kept growling “mate,” even though I knew I’d lost my chance at a bond. My wolf, usually proud, was whimpering in submission. I’d never felt her like this. But there was no time to think. I was lost in the electricity of his touch. I woke up before dawn in a penthouse overlooking the most expensive district in the city. My body was sore, covered in marks. The other side of the King-size bed was empty, but I could hear the shower running. I panicked. I threw on his oversized dress shirt, grabbed my heels, and bolted. I caught a cab, my heart hammering against my ribs. Behind me, at the floor-to-ceiling window, the man stood shirtless, a massive tattoo covering his chest. He watched my taxi pull away, a towel wrapped low on his hips. He picked up his phone. “Watch her every move,” he commanded. “If she sheds a single tear, I’ll have your heads.”

“Why do you smell like another Alpha?” I’d just stepped into the dining room when Blake glared at me from the head of the table. I ignored him and sat down for dinner. Suddenly, the butler hurried in. “Miss, there are packages for you.” A fleet of uniformed guards began carrying boxes into the hall. Limited edition couture, high-end jewelry, designer bags. And a folder, shares of a Blackwood subsidiary being transferred to my name. There was a handwritten card. “The night was exquisite. In three days, I’m bringing you home.” My one-night stand was clearly a player. I rubbed my face, speechless. Blake gripped his wine glass so hard I thought it would shatter. “Are you going to explain this?” he spat through gritted teeth. I looked him in the eye. “I already sent that video to every member of the board’s inbox.” “You bitch!”

He should have thought about the consequences before he crawled into Vanessa’s bed. “Not yet,” I said smoothly, tilting my head. “It’s on a timer. If I don’t stop it, it goes public.” “I want all the company shares.” “You’re in no position to negotiate, Evelyn.” “Sign the papers… or I burn it all down.” “Including her.” I didn’t actually expect him to sign; I just wanted to rip the mask off his face. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, yanking me into his chest. He leaned down, his voice a low hiss. “Think about the pack’s future, Evelyn.” “The future?” I laughed in his face. “I’ve been running this pack for three years while you were busy running into other women’s bedrooms.” He flinched. Just then, a sweet, high-pitched voice echoed from the hall. “Evelyn’s back?” Blake dropped my arm. I stumbled back, dusting off my sleeve with disgust. Vanessa walked in, glowing. “You look great. The trip must have been… refreshing.” “Someone clearly wasn’t satisfied,” I smirked. “Did Blake forget his pills?” Vanessa turned pale, swaying until she collapsed into Blake’s arms. “Honey… when are you going to tell her?” Blake hesitated, then mumbled, “Vanessa… she’s carrying my pup.” … That night, lying in bed, I almost laughed at the irony. My two closest people had been playing me for three years. I was alone. Then, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. -Miss you.- I was about to block it when another popped up. -Did you like the gifts? I’m still dreaming about that night.- It was him.

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One week before our wedding, my fiancé announced he wanted to climb Mount Everest — to declare his love for me from the highest point on earth. I was touched, but still planned to talk him out of it, to suggest waiting until after the wedding. Then I accidentally overheard him talking to a few of his hiking buddies: “Ethan, your phone has a GPS tracker on it. You actually want us to take it up to Everest and toss it out there?” “Your fiancée is going to be beside herself with worry. What if she goes into the mountains looking for you?” “Seriously, man. You two are about to get married. Pulling this fake-death stunt is just going to make her suffer for nothing.” Ethan listened with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t help it. There’s this girl I’ve been seeing. She’s nearly ten months along, and I need to be there for her. Going off the grid for a while is the only way.” “Everest is a dead zone. Even if she begs for a rescue, they’re not going to mount a major operation.” “Just make sure you throw the phone down toward the base of the mountain — make it look like I fell.” His hiking buddies exchanged glances. “Ethan, aren’t you afraid she’ll stop waiting and just… move on? Find someone else?” Ethan gave a short, scornful laugh. “Move on? Please. After six years of my psychological conditioning, combined with that hopeless romantic heart of hers — even if I actually died, she’d choose to stay single. She waited six years already. One more year is nothing. I’ll come back, say the right things, and she’ll fall right back into line.” Standing outside the door, I slowly loosened my grip on the handle. So his “pre-wedding adventure” was an adventure with another woman. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t cancel the wedding, either. I just found myself a different groom. …… At seven o’clock that evening, Ethan came home, a bag of strawberries — my favorite — dangling from his hand. “Olivia, I need to talk to you about something.” He set the strawberries on the coffee table, sat down, and put on his most sincere face. “Remember I told you I wanted to climb Everest next week? To let our love be as eternal as the ice and snow at the top of the world. Realistically, it’ll take at least a month — which means we’d miss our wedding date.” He paused, heaving a calculated sigh. “The venue’s booked for the end of May. If I’m not back in time, or if I’m not in the right shape for it, the ceremony won’t be what we want. Maybe we should… push it back?” I said nothing. Seeing no reaction, he leaned forward. “When I do the math, even if I get out by mid-May, I’d still need recovery time. The photos, the fittings, the invitations — none of it would work. Better to let everyone know now than scramble at the last minute. I’ll send a message to all the family and friends today — let them know the wedding’s canceled.” “Canceled?” I repeated the word softly. I wasn’t sure if I was asking him or telling myself. After all, I had waited nine entire years for this wedding. Six years ago, he’d said: *Wait until my career is stable, then we’ll get married.* I believed him. Four years ago, he’d said: *Once I meet your parents, we’ll set a date.* I even pushed my parents into it. Two years ago, he’d said: *Just wait a little longer. Don’t rush.* This year, my parents had resorted to calling three times a week in rotating shifts. I was in my thirties. I didn’t want to keep floating in the limbo of “fiancée” forever. I wanted to get married, build a career, get promoted, start a family — to finally turn that page of my life. But Ethan never seemed to feel any urgency. The day we booked the wedding venue, I was so happy I treated my entire team to afternoon tea. My mother had booked a flight the same night, calling to say she was coming to help. And now, with a single breezy word — *canceled* — he reduced every single person’s hopes to dust. He was spouting noble nonsense about our “love,” but knowing what I knew, all I felt was disgust. The irony was so sharp I couldn’t even force out a word of accusation. I opened my mouth, about to ask, *Do you have any idea how much this means to my mother?* — and swallowed it back down. Because he had already lowered his head and was typing on his phone, sending a mass message about the canceled wedding. He hadn’t even glanced at me once. When he finally put the phone down, he reached over and ruffled my hair. “Once I’m back from Everest, we’ll pick a new date. We’re both still young — no need to rush things, right?” I looked into his eyes. The only thing echoing in my mind was what I’d heard that afternoon: *”I’ll come back, say the right things, and she’ll fall right back into line.”* So that was it. The first step of “saying the right things” was erasing the wedding so cleanly it left no trace. “Ethan,” I said quietly, “Everest is dangerous. People die up there. If you die, then everything is gone. Are you sure you want to go?”

My voice was completely steady. It was the last chance I was giving him. He blinked, then broke into a warm smile, cupping my face in both hands like he was coaxing a child. “Olivia. You know me. I’ve always wanted to challenge myself.” “This is my last wish before we get married. You wouldn’t want me to carry this regret into our marriage, would you?” I didn’t pull away. But I didn’t smile either. “I connected with a few experienced hikers a while back,” he continued. “Real professionals — they’ve all done high-altitude climbs before. Oh, and just so you know, the signal up there can be pretty bad, so if you can’t reach me, don’t panic.” His eyes drifted slightly to the side as he said that last part. In the end, I nodded. “Okay.” He blinked — clearly surprised I’d agreed so easily. “You’re not upset?” “You said it yourself. Last wish before the wedding. I support you.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss my forehead. I turned my head toward the strawberries and reached for one. He didn’t notice the dodge. Undeterred, he launched enthusiastically into his “route plan” — south col versus north ridge, Nepal, base camps. I ate strawberries and nodded along, smiling on the surface while laughing coldly inside. Impressive — he’d even rehearsed the details to make the whole act convincing. Meanwhile, one sentence kept looping through my mind: *”The girl’s nearly ten months along, she’s been a mess.”* The girl. Who was she? Ethan was the kind of man who’d always had women circling him — wealthy, handsome, born into privilege. I used to lie awake worrying I’d eventually be replaced. That fear was part of why I’d spent years pushing for marriage. And now that I knew I actually had been replaced? I felt nothing. Just a hollow, distant numbness. I had no idea who she was, and I wasn’t going to ask. He talked for a long time, then tacked on a final promise: “When I come back, I’ll bring you a stone from the foot of Everest. The sea of clouds up there is supposed to be breathtaking.” “Sounds nice,” I said. He went off to shower, satisfied. I sat on the sofa and picked up my phone. I scrolled to my father’s messages. The last one had been sent back when Ethan and I still hadn’t set a date: *That young man came by with the matchmaker again this year. Said he’s still waiting on your word. He’s been at this for seven years now, Olivia. If nothing else works out, maybe give him a chance.* I remembered vaguely hearing about this man — the village’s most infamous mystery. Allegedly, he’d “gotten into trouble” in the city years ago and never come back. Some whispered he’d been in prison. Every single year, like clockwork, he’d send the same matchmaker to my family’s door. My father would say, “My daughter has a boyfriend in the city,” and the matchmaker would smile pleasantly and leave — only to return the following year. I’d always thought the man was eccentric. I’d never given any of it a second thought. But tonight, reading that message, I suddenly saw it differently. Seven years. Every single year, without fail. A man who showed up year after year — quietly, persistently, without demands — was a hundred times more reliable than a man who whispered *”wait until after we’re married, then everything will be settled,”* while secretly planning to vanish for a year to take care of someone else’s pregnancy. The sound of the shower ran in the background. I lowered my head and typed a reply to my father: *Dad, tell the matchmaker. Let him come this year.* I locked the screen, rested the phone face-down on my knee, and stared at the ceiling. Three years dating. Six years engaged. Ethan always thought I was just “a little impatient.” He had no idea that I had passed impatient a long time ago. I was done waiting.

That night, after Ethan fell asleep, his phone lit up on the nightstand. I reached over to silence it — and saw the message. *Ethan, I’ve been sick again today. When are you coming to take care of me? The baby and I both miss you!* The contact name was saved as “Little Deer.” My hand hovered in the air for two full seconds. Then I picked up his phone and opened the conversation thread. There was only one message — the one she’d just sent. He must clean the chat every day. I hesitated for a moment, then clicked into her profile. Her most recent post was two photos of pregnancy tests. The caption: *Two lines. I’m in shock.* The timestamp was the same afternoon Ethan and I had confirmed our wedding date. Three o’clock. So on the very day he booked the wedding venue with me, he had been celebrating becoming a father with another woman. How perfectly symmetrical. I set the phone down. I went to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and drank it slowly. When I came back, he had rolled over. His arm was draped loosely over his eyes. He mumbled my name — “Olivia…” — in a sleepy, faraway voice. I didn’t move. Something flickered across his face. His brow creased. When he spoke again, his voice was thick and nasal, the way it only got when he was deep in a dream. “I just dreamed… that I disappeared, and you didn’t even wait. You just turned around and married someone else…” He said it like it had frightened him. He unconsciously shifted toward my side of the bed. The old me would have wrapped my arms around him immediately, would have said something embarrassingly sincere like *”I’ll never leave you.”* But I just looked at him. “Go to sleep.” He half-opened one eye, studying me with drowsy suspicion. He seemed dissatisfied with my response. I was already too exhausted to manage his moods. I rolled over and went to sleep. The next morning, the doorbell rang early. Three hiking buddies showed up with enormous packs, crowding into the entryway. “Ethan! I printed out the Everest route map — look, we go in through the south col, then to Base Camp, then the Khumbu Icefall up toward Camp One—” They spread the map across the coffee table, all talking at once. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, sipping soy milk, not saying a word. Ethan noticed the silence and came over, holding up the map. “Olivia, look — we planned every day, every kilometer. We have experience, we have a system. Nothing’s going to happen.” “Mmm,” I said, and kept sipping. He seemed vaguely uncomfortable. He started to say something else, but his phone rang. He stepped out to the balcony to take it. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out the words — only the occasional lilt of laughter. Soft. Playful. The three hiking buddies glanced at each other and very deliberately went back to studying the map. Two minutes later, Ethan came back in and said casually, “One of the new hires at the company. Just started. Little work question she didn’t understand.” He looked at me with the expectant patience of a man waiting to be interrogated. But I said nothing. I was thinking about “Little Deer.” He had hired a batch of management trainees earlier that year. One of them was a girl named Grace Harlow. I’d seen her once, downstairs from his office, when I’d come to pick him up for lunch. She wore her hair in a ponytail. When she smiled, she had two deep dimples. And when she spotted Ethan, her eyes lit up like lamps. At the time I’d said to him: “That girl’s sharp.” He’d smiled and said, “Yeah. The skill set’s a match.” Now I understood what he meant by that. “Olivia?” Ethan said, with a faint note of fishing in his tone. “You’re not curious what the question was?” “I don’t know anything about your business.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel and picked up my bag. “I’m going to the store. Carry on.” At the door, I glanced down at my vibrating phone. A message glowed on the screen: *Appointment confirmed — one week from today.* I typed back *okay*, and instantly Ethan’s hand shot out and snatched the phone. “One week from now? What for?”

He stared at the stranger’s profile picture, the chat log showing only two brief messages, and his brow knotted. “Who is this?” I answered calmly. “Someone who booked a spot for me. I have a life event to take care of next week.” I reached out to take the phone back. He didn’t give it. Instead, he caught my wrist, and his voice turned gentle. “What kind of life event? Olivia, are you still angry that I canceled the wedding next week?” “When I get back, I promise I’ll make it up to you — whatever kind of wedding you want, wherever you want for the honeymoon, just name it. Okay?” He poured on the sweetness, his tone warm as honey. The three hiking buddies pretended to study the map while their ears stood straight up. I was about to respond — when a figure stepped through the front courtyard gate. “Mr. Hayes, am I interrupting? I happened to be passing by. Wanted to ask for some time off.” Her voice was casual, as if she were walking into her own home. I went still. When I’d let the guys in earlier, I was certain I had locked that gate. She could walk in without a key. She’d clearly been here before. I thought, with a joyless inner smile: *When did my home become a triangle?* It had almost trapped the foolish woman who’d spent six years waiting inside it. “I need to take extended leave,” Grace Harlow continued, drifting into the living room with the ease of someone very comfortable here. “I’m going back home to rest. Might be away for… about a year.” Her gaze swept the room — touched briefly on the three hiking buddies — then landed on me, sweet as sugar. “Good morning, Ms. Reid.” Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “For leave requests, just send a message. You didn’t need to come all the way here.” “I was worried you’d miss it.” She reached into her bag and produced a thermos, holding it out to him with a winning smile. “I made you coffee. Ethiopian Geisha beans — thought you’d like it.” Ethan glanced at me. He didn’t take it. Grace, unfazed, simply set the thermos on the coffee table. It landed squarely on top of the Everest route map. One of the hiking buddies choked back a laugh. “The dedication of employees these days — coming all the way to the boss’s house just to file a PTO request.” Another buried his face in his water glass to hide a smirk. Grace acted as though she hadn’t heard. She turned to me, her gaze as bright and warm as the first time I’d seen her. “You don’t mind, do you, Ms. Reid? I’m so new at everything — Mr. Hayes has been so patient teaching me. I don’t know what I’d do without his guidance.” “I don’t mind.” I gave her a light smile. “He’s taught plenty of people. You’re not the first.” The brightness in her smile faltered — just for a moment. I turned to Ethan. “Phone. I’m going to the store.” He hesitated for two seconds, then handed it over. I took it and walked past Grace. At the coffee table, I glanced down at the thermos she’d placed there. “Freshly brewed coffee goes bad once it sits,” I said simply. “Remember to take that with you when you go. I don’t keep garbage in my home.” Grace’s carefully arranged expression crumbled. Her eyes went glassy. Her hand drifted — deliberately, I thought — to rest against her stomach. “Ms. Reid, I only wanted to thank Mr. Hayes for all he’s done for me… If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come again.” Ethan’s expression darkened. “Olivia.” His voice carried a clear edge of displeasure. “What is wrong with you? Could you not embarrass yourself like this?” I didn’t look at him. I opened the front door. “I’m exactly like this.” “You—” He took a step after me, then caught himself — the buddies and Grace were watching. He lowered his voice, sharp and clipped. “She just came to file a leave request. Was all that really necessary? Is this really your best? You think about nothing but getting married. Can you not function without a man?” The words left his mouth. His lips pressed shut, and he added, more stiffly: “The point is — I made a commitment to these guys, and I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. The wedding’s not gone, just delayed. Stop making a scene.” “Intimidating a girl like that. It just makes you look small.” “You’re completely right,” I said pleasantly. And I walked out without looking back. Behind me, one of the buddies said quietly, “Ethan — maybe go after her? You’re going to be away for weeks. Leaving things like this can’t be good.” Ethan didn’t move. “Go after her? So she can learn that throwing a fit works? Let her walk. When she comes crawling back, she can do it on her own.” The door shut behind me. Through the panel, I heard Ethan curse under his breath. I thought about every argument we’d ever had, and every make-up that followed. Every single time, I was the one who bent. He’d go cold — and within three days, I’d crack and text first. He’d sulk — and I’d cook his favorite meal and coax him out of it. He’d tell me I was too much — and I’d go quiet, swallow whatever I’d been feeling, and make myself smaller. I’d told myself that was what long relationships looked like. Compromise. Work. *Someone always has to be the one to step back.* But standing here now, I finally understood the truth. He had known Grace Harlow for less than six months. And in those months, he’d given her the promotion I had once dreamed of. He’d given her a child. He was willing to disappear for ten months — to fake his own death — just to be near her. In our entire relationship, even at its warmest, I had never once been treated with that kind of devotion. I had been asking to have a child for years. He had always been scrupulously, almost obsessively careful. He hadn’t been careful because he didn’t want children. He’d been careful because he didn’t want children with me. Looking back now, I could see it — the pattern of the last six months. Later nights. More secretive texts. I’d told myself he was just driven, trying to get the company in order before the wedding. But some things had been decided long before I knew. A wedding that was never meant to happen… was never going to happen.

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I had been with my childhood sweetheart Dante for eight years. We were finally going to get married. But the night before the wedding, I accidentally overheard him talking to his unerboss, David. “Tomorrow, once we leave the house, don’t go to the church. Drive the wedding car straight to Sinclair Manor.” “Sinclair Manor?” Dante’s voice was low.“Serena’s family went bankrupt. They owe the Sinclair family tens of millions. Her father wants to marry her off to repay the debt… to that old Sinclair godfather.” ” I can’t watch her life get destroyed. Bella will have to take her place.” David froze.“Boss… so you won’t ruin Serena… but you’re fine ruining Bella?” Dante answered calmly.“The Sinclair godfather is ninety. He’s already dying.” “After a couple of years, once he’s gone, I don’t care Bella’s been married before. I’ll still marry her.” David hesitated.“But do you really think Bella will go along with it?” Dante thought for a moment.“Tomorrow, my mother will put something in the champagne Bella drinks before she leaves.” “When she wakes up… she’ll already be in the Sinclair godfather’s bed.” “It’ll be done. She won’t have a choice.” I heard everything. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a sound. I just turned around and went back to my room and waited for the wedding that would never really be mine. When Dante found me again, trying to win me back, I was already five months pregnant. Just like he once said, the deal was already sealed. Now he was the one with no choice left. ****** The next morning, makeup artists and bridesmaids arrived early at the Moretti Mansion. Serena came too. The moment she saw me in my wedding dress, her eyes turned red. “Bella… I’m so jealous. You get to marry someone you love. You’re so lucky.” “Not like me. My father is forcing me to marry a ninety-year-old man to pay off debts.” She wiped her tears, then glanced at Dante.“But luckily… someone secretly took me to city hall yesterday. I’m already legally married. The old man can’t marry me even if he wants to now.” I froze. I thought being forced into a substitute marriage was already bad enough. I didn’t expect Dante had already registered marriage with her. My best friend Clara leaned in and whispered,“Why is she even here today? This is your wedding.” “And she’s crying on purpose. Is she trying to curse you or something?” “It’s fine,” I said quietly, patting her hand. Because this was never really my wedding anyway. Dante was just acting normal… to get me into the car and carry out his plan. Dante walked into the makeup room and glanced at me. “Almost done. Let’s go. Don’t be late.” He didn’t even really look at me. But when he passed Serena, he stopped to fix her coat collar. Then his eyes landed on my necklace. An emerald necklace. Only the godmother of the Moretti family could wear it. “Bella, Serena isn’t wearing any jewelry today. She looks too plain.” “Let her borrow your necklace for the day.” Clara immediately snapped.“Dante, that’s Bella’s necklace!” Dante frowned slightly.“It’s just a necklace. What’s the difference?” “This isn’t just—” “Clara,” I cut her off. “Let her have it.” Serena was the daughter of the Romano godfather. For two years, Dante always used that as an excuse. “Don’t offend the Romano family.” So I gave in again and again. My work. My pets. My clothes. My jewelry. And now… even my husband. Eight years, and in the end, it was all a carefully planned lie.

Serena put on my necklace, a smug smile on her face. “Dante, this necklace suits me so well. It’s like it was made for me.” She smiled sweetly, almost mocking.“Where did you buy it?” That necklace was personally put on my neck by Dante. When he was twenty, after the bloody gunfight at the harbor, he finally became the godfather of the Marchetti family. He was still covered in blood that day, but he was smiling as he held that necklace. “Bella, I’m not hurt.” “When we get married, you’ll wear this necklace.” “I want the whole world to know you’re my only wife.” “Bella, I’ll give you the best of everything.” Back then, Dante really loved me. He couldn’t stand seeing me suffer even a little. He wanted to give me everything. But everything changed after Serena appeared. The bridesmaids didn’t notice the tension between us and started cheering. “Kiss her! Kiss her!” Dante gave in to the teasing and leaned in to kiss me. But at that moment Serena suddenly “lost her balance” and fell straight into his arms. Dante reached out instinctively and their lips accidentally met. The room went dead silent. Clara snapped. “Serena, you did that on purpose!” “I’m sorry… I just lost my balance…” “Lost your balance? Out of everyone here, you just had to fall into Dante’s arms?” “Enough.”Dante helped Serena up, looking slightly annoyed.“She twisted her ankle. It’s normal.” Then he looked at Clara coldly.“Is this really something worth getting angry over?” “This is not a small thing—”Clara was about to explode, but I stopped her. Because in the past two years, Dante always said the same thing. Last year, Serena stole my three-month project. He said it was a small thing. Half a year ago, she ruined our anniversary. He said it was a small thing. Last month, she killed my cat of six years. He still said it was a small thing. Every time, he told me not to argue. So this time…I really didn’t need to argue anymore. Just then, Dante’s mother walked over with a glass of champagne. “Bella, I’ve finally waited for you to grow up and get married.” She handed me the glass with a gentle smile.“Come on, drink this blessing champagne.” I stared at the bubbles in the glass. For a moment, I froze. I lost both my parents when I was young. For more than ten years, the Moretti family adopted me and treated me as their own daughter. But now the two people I trusted most were about to push me into hell. I knew exactly what this drink meant. But I still took it and drank it all in one go. Dante took my hand.“Let’s go. It’s time.”

When I was little, Dante used to hold my hand like this. When I was twelve, my parents died in a car accident. I was devastated and hid away, not eating or drinking for three whole days. Dante found me and took me home, barely alive. He held my thin hand and said firmly, “Bella, from now on, my home is your home, my parents are your parents.” “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. I’ll always protect you.” His hand was still as warm and broad as before. But it no longer belonged to me. At the manor gate, a row of black SUVs were neatly parked. Dante opened the door and gestured for me to get in. Clara followed and sat beside me. But Dante didn’t get into the same car. He stood by the door, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “Bella,” he said, adjusting my veil with a smile, “Take good care of yourself.” Clara’s tone was displeased: “What are you still standing here for? Get in the car!” Dante smiled and pointed to the car behind: “I’ll take the other one. I’ll escort you from behind.” With that, he slammed the car door shut. Clara frowned, her confusion deepening: “What’s wrong with Dante today? Why is he acting so strangely?” “Nothing’s wrong,” I explained softly, “He just wants me to be Serena’s substitute bride.” “What?” Before I could reply, Clara suddenly realized something was wrong. “Wait, driver, stop!” “You’re going the wrong way. Why are you driving that way? Turn around.” “Clara,” I interrupted her, “the driver isn’t wrong. I’m going to Sinclair Manor.” “Sinclair Manor?” I told Clara the whole story. Clara trembled with rage upon hearing this: “Damn it! How could Dante treat you like this? Has he lost all his conscience?!” I remained calm: “The Moretti family raised me for so many years; consider it repaying a debt of gratitude.” “They raised you for over ten years, but you saved Dante’s life back then. That debt of gratitude has long been repaid!” “Besides, these past two years, when Dante had intermittent back pain and couldn’t move, you took care of him without leaving his side!” “You’ve given him so much; why should he treat you like this?” Clara was right. In terms of repaying a debt of gratitude, I had already repaid it long ago. However, it no longer mattered. Thoughts drifted by when my phone chimed with a message. It was from Serena. [Bella, today is truly a joyous day! Dante just gave me a wedding gift. Isn’t it beautiful?] I stared blankly at the emerald bracelet in the picture, feeling as if I had fallen into an ice cave. This bracelet is a keepsake from my mother, passed down through generations in my family. Because I was too young at the time, Dante’s mother kept it for me. They promised to return it to me after my wedding. How could he give it to Serena without my consent? “Stop!”

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The Moon Goddess said I carried the spirit of the White Wolf, so the Lycan King chose me as his heir’s mate. But on the day of my mating ceremony, my father’s bastard daughter stole my place and my mate. I found and exposed her scheme. My father fell to his knees before the king, and she was exiled to the slave quarters. So I thought I had won. And I mated with the Lycan King heir, Darius, and carried his pup. Until the day I went into labor. The healers said the birth had gone wrong, and I might not survive. When I was at death’s door, Darius walked into my chamber with that bastard, Sienna, on his arm. “Aria,” he said, “did you really think you could be my Luna? If you hadn’t tricked my father with that White Wolf nonsense, I would never have touched you.” “Your mother screamed for three days before she died. The rogues took turns with her until there was nothing left to bury.” Sienna leaned close to my ear, smiling. “The prophecy, the mate bond, the Luna’s throne. It was always meant to be mine.” Finally, I died with my unborn pup. When I woke up, I was back on the day of the mating ceremony. I sat up and found my hands were smooth. My belly was flat and the mating mark on my neck was gone. I was eighteen again, and the Mating Ceremony was still hours away. This life, I’ll let them have each other. But I still will be the Luna, and the next Alpha King’s throne will change hands. “Aria, once you enter the Royal Pack, you must control your temper. Never defy the Alpha Heir.” My mother was crying outside the ceremonial carriage. “Mom. I will. Don’t worry about me.” I decided to sit quietly in the carriage and wait for the ceremony to begin. Then the carriage lurched to a stop and I heard a voice I knew too well. “STOP!” It’s Darius. In my past life, I never saw him until the mating ceremony started. He had stayed in the Citadel, waiting for his mate. But now he was here and charging straight toward the servant’s carriage behind me. “This whole ceremony is a fraud!” he announced to the crowd. “Aria used a fake prophecy to steal what belongs to my true mate. Sienna is the real one chosen by the Moon Goddess!”

Hearing his words, I understood that he remembered what happened in the last life, too. He had been reborn, just like me. And he thought switching mates early would fix everything that went wrong in our past life. My mother was alarmed and lunged at him. “What are you doing now? Where was Aria?” He shoved her to the ground without looking and pulled Sienna out with his own hands. She wasn’t wearing the servant’s clothes. My jewelry was on her neck, and my ceremonial furs were put on. They had already made the switch before. Darius held her like she was something precious. “The Luna’s position belongs to Sienna. I’ve already informed the King. A liar like Aria will never set foot in my pack.” After he finished speaking I stepped out of the carriage. Sienna hid behind him, playing the victim. “Sister, I don’t know how we got switched. But since this is what the Alpha Heir wants… I can’t refuse him.” Every word dripped with false sweetness. The same act and the same lies. My mother could not control herself, her face went white with rage. “You ungrateful bitch! Your father pitied you enough to let you serve as Aria’s handmaiden, and you repay us by stealing her Luna place?” “This match was blessed by the Moon Goddess and decreed by the Lycan King! You’ll get our whole pack killed!” Darius stepped forward, eyes cold. “Shut your mouth. Sienna is my true mate. If Aria hadn’t lied her way into the King’s favor, I would never have looked at her twice.” He walked toward me then. Stopped inches from my face. Leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Aria. I killed you once. I can kill you again.” In my past life, those words would have made me beg and scream, even fight. Now I just smiled. “Then I wish the future Lycan King gets exactly what he wants.” He stared at me. He had expected tears and rage, but didn’t know what to do with calm now. I watched him leave with Sienna. She turned to smirk at me one last time. Let her smirk. Let her take the carriage, the jewels, the Luna’s throne. She had no idea what she was stealing. Darius thought he could change his fate by changing his mate. He seemed to have forgotten that even if I’m not his mate, I am still me. I carried the spirit of the White Wolf, which was the key to the next Alpha King’s success.

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When my husband needed someone to sign the surgical consent form after his car accident, the nurse told me something that stopped my heart cold — I wasn’t his legal wife. Five years. For five years, I had stood by Ethan’s side, helping him grow a cheap community pizzeria into a thriving chain of Italian restaurants. At our lowest point, we shared a basement apartment. We scrubbed dishes together, peeled vegetables side by side, and stayed until past midnight to close up. He used to hold my hand and say, “Once we have money, I’ll give you the grandest wedding you’ve ever seen.” But now, the nurse’s voice was polite and utterly cold. “I’m sorry. The woman registered in our system as Mr. Ethan Caldwell’s legal spouse — that isn’t you.” “The person authorized to sign is a Ms. Vivian Marsh.” A second later, Ethan’s secretary, Vivian Marsh, came rushing in and coolly signed her name in the next-of-kin field. “Nora, don’t overthink it. There’s probably just a glitch in the hospital system.” “Right now, getting Ethan into surgery is what matters. I had to sign — there was no choice.” In that moment, I actually believed her. I thought it was a hospital mistake. Until I asked a friend to pull Ethan’s marriage records from the civil registry database. We had been together for ten years. His marriage certificate with Vivian had been registered for eight. I didn’t say a word. I simply took the secret recipe I had spent years refining — batch after batch, trial after trial — and destroyed it completely. No formula. No ingredients list. Nothing. Let’s see what he uses to open his new locations. Let’s see how he repays his loans. … ICU visiting hours were limited. Vivian had handled all the paperwork under her status as next of kin. “Nora, Ethan still hasn’t regained consciousness, but the doctor says his vitals are stable now.” She walked toward me. “Would you like to go in and see him? I told the nurse to give you five minutes.” I looked at her, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. Since when did I need another woman’s permission to see my own husband? “No thank you.” “When exactly did the two of you register?” Vivian’s hand froze in midair. She lowered it slowly and smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nora, why are you asking that now? You’ve known all these years that Ethan only has eyes for you.” “He treats you like a wife. You’ve always been his wife. Does that piece of paper really matter so much?” I looked at her, and suddenly I laughed. “Then go to the registry right now and divorce him. Put my name on the certificate instead. Will you do that?” Vivian’s expression went rigid. I held her gaze and repeated, slowly and deliberately: “I asked — when.” Vivian let out a long breath, reached into her bag, and handed me a small red booklet. “Eight years ago. October.” Eight years ago, Ethan told me he was traveling to another city to scout new locations. He was gone for an entire week. Apparently, that week, he had gone to register a marriage with his secretary. I stared at the booklet. Their two photos sat side by side on the page, smiling. Warm. Happy. I had a booklet that looked exactly the same in my own bag — the one Ethan had arranged for me ten years ago. He’d said we were both too busy. The line at the registry was too long. He’d pulled some strings to have it expedited. And I had believed every word. I had stayed up with him in the slums washing bowls, helped him navigate complex tax filings, eaten donated food with him from the shelter line. I thought we were partners forged in hardship. It turned out I was nothing more than free labor the law didn’t even recognize. When I stayed silent too long, Vivian tucked the certificate back into her bag. “Nora, Ethan had his reasons.” “The company needed to expand. We needed access to loans and credentials. My household registration is local — I have property in my name.” “By registering with me, the company qualified for the maximum tax-exempt enterprise loan.” “It was all for the company’s growth. Nora, surely you can see what matters here?” I turned and walked toward the exit. Vivian called after me: “Nora, are you actually angry right now? I already told you, Ethan and I are just—” I stopped. Turned back to face her. “Just what? Just legally married? Just using me for loans? Just for credentials?” “Save those lines for someone who’ll swallow them.” Vivian bit her lip, then muttered under her breath, “So petty. Such a faded old hag.” I almost laughed at that. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. Then I turned and walked in the direction of the other end of the city. Toward the kitchen of our very first pizzeria. Toward the recipe I had spent ten years perfecting — tested hundreds of times, refined over and over. When Ethan proposed, I told him I had no dowry. He said it didn’t matter. He said I was the finest dowry there was. Now I finally understood what he really meant. My recipe was my dowry. And since I was never his lawful wife — it was time to take it back.

The cab pulled up outside the flagship restaurant. The hostess at the front desk gave me a quiet nod as I walked in. “Ms. Nora.” I nodded back and walked straight upstairs to the general manager’s office. I went to the safe and, out of reflex, typed in my birthday. “Incorrect password.” I paused. My fingers trembled slightly as I tried again — our anniversary. “Incorrect password.” I stared at the keypad. An image of Vivian’s personnel file surfaced in my mind. With a kind of masochistic calm, I pressed her birthday. Click. The safe opened. A quiet laugh escaped me. For years, no matter how many locations we opened, the core sauce had been made by my hands alone. Each branch sent a driver to collect it from this kitchen every single day. Ethan and Vivian had seized control of the company’s operations and finances. But they had forgotten what actually kept this chain alive. I removed everything from the safe. Then I walked to the kitchen, picked up a bucket of grimy dishwater and waste grease from beside the sink, and without hesitation, poured every drop into the stock pots. A chain without a soul. Enjoy what’s left of it. On my way out, I passed the culture wall — a display of framed photographs running the length of the hallway. In the center was a photo of Ethan and me. I walked over, tore it down, and dropped it in the trash. Before it even settled, a woman’s voice drifted in from the doorway — unhurried, almost leisurely. “Nora. You don’t seriously think throwing a tantrum is going to make Ethan feel guilty for everything he put you through, do you?” I turned. Vivian stood at the entrance of the dining hall, every hair in place, a studied kind of elegance about her — and in her gaze, open satisfaction she wasn’t bothering to hide. “Though I understand, I suppose. Anyone in your shoes would be upset.” “After all this time with him, all those years — and then you find out you have no legal standing at all. That’s genuinely pathetic.” I said nothing. Something in her seemed to relax — like she’d been waiting for exactly this moment. The careful act she’d maintained began to slip away. “You know, I used to respect you. Genuinely.” She smiled, slow and deliberate. “A woman who grinds alongside a man from absolute zero to something real — that takes grit.” “But grit is one thing. Whether you belong at his side is another.” She paused, then dropped her voice. “The position of Mrs. Caldwell was never yours to begin with.” I studied the satisfaction written all over Vivian’s face and felt only a faint, dry amusement. “So what?” “You came all the way here to stake your claim?” Vivian smiled lightly. “Does it even need staking? The registry is real. The hospital signature is real. The safe combination is real. And Ethan himself said I’d be handling all finances going forward. All real.” Her gaze dropped deliberately to my empty hands. “Nora. You sacrificed so much for him. But you should understand by now — in business, what counts is capital, management, resources, connections. Not who knows how to stir a pot of sauce.” Each sentence landed soft and even, but every word had an edge. I looked at her. “Are you proud of yourself right now?” Vivian blinked, as though she hadn’t expected that. Then she smiled — a full, unguarded smile, satisfaction flooding every feature. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “The man you spent years on — he’s my husband.” “The restaurants you poured yourself into — they’re mine to run now.” “You don’t even have the right to put your own child under his name. But me? I’m the legally recognized Mrs. Caldwell.” She let that sit, as if exhaling years of something held back. “Nora. I won.” I looked at her and smiled. “You think because you have the marriage certificate, the company seal, and the keys to the operation — that means you’ve won?” “Vivian. Why don’t you go check the kitchen first? Let’s talk about what you’ve actually inherited.”

Her pupils contracted sharply. She spun toward the back of the house. The restaurant manager, Daniel, appeared in the doorway — face drained of color, mouth working soundlessly before he finally got the words out. “Ms. Marsh… the sauce. All of it. It’s ruined.” “We have reservations tonight — what are we supposed to do?” The triumph on Vivian’s face cracked open. “Are you out of your mind?!” “Nora, that’s company property!” “Company property?” I laughed, just barely. “That recipe was mine. Five years of trials. Hundreds of batches. Ethan himself wouldn’t dare call it company property — and yet here you are, claiming it?” “Besides—” I let my gaze drift over her suddenly ashen face. “Weren’t you the one who said times have changed? That business runs on capital, management, resources, connections — not on who can stir a pot of sauce?” “So why the panic?” Vivian’s breath came fast and shallow. She was staring at me with pure, cornered fury. “Nora. You think destroying the sauce gives you power over us?” “When Ethan wakes up, he will not let this go.” “Is that so?” I nodded, almost pleasantly. “Good. Then when he does, pass along a message for me.” I reached into my bag and set a sealed envelope on the front counter — the letter I had already written. “I’m done with him.” “This restaurant. This man. This rotten wreck of a relationship. Whoever wants to pick up the pieces is welcome to them.” I had barely gotten home when my phone rang. The screen showed: Ethan Caldwell. I answered. Ethan’s voice came through — low, barely controlled, like a man trying to hold a fire inside his chest. “Nora. Have you lost your mind?” I leaned back in my seat, voice even. “Something you needed?” He clearly hadn’t expected that. A beat of silence, and then the anger came harder. “Something I needed? You took the recipe. You know how many tables we have booked tonight? You just walked out and want to watch every location go dark?” “Isn’t that what you’re good at? Management, capital, connections. One less person stirring sauce shouldn’t even register. You’ll be fine.” A sharp pause on the other end. Then a cold laugh. “You’re still sulking over the marriage certificate?” “Nora, when did you get so small?” I closed my eyes for a moment. The urge to laugh rose and died in the same breath. Even now, he thought I was sulking. “Ethan.” I kept my voice quiet. “You lied to me for eight years. In your mind — that makes me petty?” “What lie? Everything you ate, wore, used — I provided it. Did I ever let you go without? You had it good with me, Nora. Was that not enough?” “A marriage certificate is just paper. What matters is that you were by my side. I let everyone call you the boss’s wife. Wasn’t that enough?” My hand tightened around the phone, knuckle by knuckle. Yes. That was Ethan. He never believed he had done anything wrong. In his mind, a woman only ever wanted a little face-saving, a little money, a little of whatever affection a man chose to hand down. As for legal standing, genuine respect, honesty — that was her being ungrateful. “All right. I won’t push this further.” “Give the recipe back. Come to the hospital and apologize to Vivian. We’ll pretend today never happened.” I almost thought I’d misheard him. “Apologize to her?” “Shouldn’t you?” Ethan’s voice rose. “The way you carried on at the restaurant today — destroying every last batch of sauce, humiliating her in front of the whole staff. She’s a wreck right now. She hasn’t stopped crying.” “Nora, when did you become so cruel?”

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I had just completed the mate-bonding ceremony with Caden Voss, the future Alpha, the most coveted male in the pack, when my adopted sister Rena drove her car straight into me. The impact shattered my ovaries. The pack’s finest healer, my own mother, Dr. Elena Ashton, said both were beyond saving. They had to be fully removed. Caden’s howl of anguish shook the hospital walls. “It doesn’t matter! I just need my mate alive!” Mom and my brother Eli stood red-eyed, gripping my hands. “Easy now. Close your eyes. We have the best healers, the strongest herbs. Sleep, and the pain will pass.” In my most broken moment, I was grateful that everyone I loved was by my side. Then the anesthesia began to pull me under, and through the gap in the door, I heard them talking in the hall. Mom’s voice carried a thin edge of excitement. “Mara is healthy. Compatible blood type, right age. While we have her under, we take her heart and transplant it into Rena.” Dad, the pack’s Beta, agreed without a pause. “I’ve already had the security footage of Rena’s car deleted. Mara won’t ever know.” Eli’s voice, smooth and clinical. “I’ll synthesize a compound. Even with a damaged heart, Mara won’t suffer visibly.” A moment of silence. Then Caden’s voice — and the relief in it turned my blood to ice. “Rena loves to run, loves to travel. She needs a strong heart. As for Mara… we’ll make it up to her someday. I’ll go sign the surgical consent forms now.” I felt myself falling — not into sleep, but into a void with no floor. My heart ached as though the blade had already found it. 【System Alert: Host — your Cannon Fodder task has been completed. Heartbreak index has reached 100%. Do you wish to return to your original world immediately?】 I laughed. And then I wept. Their love — every tender look, every careful touch — I didn’t want any of it anymore. … I fought to roll off the surgical table. A nurse shoved a breathing tube down my throat and flooded my veins with sedative. As consciousness collapsed, I glimpsed Rena being wheeled in through the doors. Mom raised her scalpel and murmured to the nurses with calm precision. “Don’t bother stabilizing Mara’s ovaries damage. Extract the heart first. Rena’s transplant takes priority.” I felt the blade part my chest layer by layer, and in the last seconds before the dark swallowed me whole, Mom’s voice drifted in, soft and tender. “Hold on a little longer, baby girl. When you wake up, you’ll be able to run again. Run as far as you want.” She was talking to Rena. … When awareness flickered back, I confirmed everything with the system at once. 【Only if the host body dies: automatic return to the original world. Your congenital heart defect will be fully healed. One hundred million in bounty will be deposited to your linked account. Confirmed.】 How laughable. I had been so relieved that even after years lost to a rival pack’s captivity, I hadn’t lost my family’s love. That Caden had searched for me, proposed the moment I returned. And all along, they only kept me breathing because they needed my heart. I pulled the oxygen tube from my throat without a second’s hesitation. Breathing became agony. My face darkened to violet. The monitors screamed red. But I was smiling. Better to die than stay and look at them. Mom burst through the door with a team behind her, howling my name. She performed CPR with her bare hands and forced the tube back in. When I was stable, she glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “Mara! Why would you — it’s only your ovaries. You can still live a full life. You can’t—” I pressed a hand to the wound in my chest and rasped: “Is it really only my ovaries?” Caden fell to his knees, slapping his own face over and over. “Honey — blame me. When the car came, I didn’t shield you. I let you get hurt. The driver’s already in custody, I swear I’ll—” “You found a heart donor for Rena already, didn’t you?” he added, turning to Mom. “She’s going to be all right?” Dad’s voice was hollow. “We’ve contacted every pack healer in the country. We’ll find you a new heart soon, Mara. I promise.” Eli touched my shoulder gently. “I’m going back to the lab right now. I’ll engineer something custom. You’ll breathe just like anyone else.” How laughable. Three sentences to smooth over Rena running me down, destroying my body, and stealing my heart. I curved my lips into something that was almost a smile. “Where’s Rena? I want to speak with her myself. I saw her face when they brought her in.” Mom’s brow knotted. “How dare you accuse your sister. She was with me in the healer’s ward when you were hit — she nearly had a heart episode just from the shock of hearing you’d been injured. We found her a donor just in time.” “You found a donor at the exact same moment my heart failed,” I said. “What a coincidence.” The room went very still. “Mara…” Mom started. I was too tired. I pulled the blanket over my head. When I surfaced, only Caden remained, watching me with an expression I used to believe was love. I smiled at him. “Go check on Rena. Come back and tell me how she’s doing.” He left without hesitating. Alone at last, I exhaled slowly and reached for my phone with trembling hands. The system had promised to grant me one wish in exchange for completing its KPIs. Before they’d wheeled me into the OR, I’d spent that wish on two recordings. I watched them now, rigid, replaying every second of how they’d planned to hollow me out. Every word my mother had spoken while cutting into my chest. Every degree of warmth drained from my body. I was suddenly very glad I hadn’t died. Because leaving this easily would be far too generous to them.

During my recovery, they took turns sitting with me — one at a time, never long, always finding an excuse to rush away. I assumed they were simply busy. Pack Betas and Alpha heirs didn’t have idle hours. Then came the afternoon I needed the bathroom and no one was there. I dragged my IV stand down the hall alone. Through the glass of the VIP recovery suite, I stopped. Caden, who had just claimed an urgent pack council session, was feeding Rena a prawn dumpling with his fingers, laughing at something she’d said. My parents and Eli were all there, watching her with the soft, helpless adoration I used to think was reserved for me. Mom’s voice filtered through the glass, warmly scolding. “Rena, you can’t gorge yourself the moment you’re healed. Dumplings are too rich.” Rena tipped her head back like a contented cub. “I can’t help it. Dad makes them too well.” She pouted. “And all of you hovering around me is suffocating. How am I supposed to sneak snacks with four sets of eyes on me?” For three days, I’d been eating takeout congee I ordered myself. Rena had them there every hour, with Dad cooking her meals from scratch. I turned away stiffly and nearly walked into the nurses’ station. Through the partition, two nurses were whispering. “You know the patient in 302? The one everyone calls the real daughter? Dr. Ashton specifically told me to keep her on extra nutrition supplements — building her up like a reserve. If Rena has a serious rejection episode, they’ll need a full blood exchange from her.” I stood in the corridor for a long time, not moving. My heart — the damaged, borrowed thing still beating in my chest — felt like it was cracking open again. Why had it come to this? There was a time when Mom would panic if I so much as scraped my knee. She had driven herself into advanced healer certification just to take better care of me. Dad had built the Ashton name from nothing, so I’d never go without treatment. Eli had chosen pharmacology so my medicine wouldn’t taste bitter. They had even sheltered Caden’s family from a rival pack’s ambush — and that act of loyalty was how he and I first became entangled. All of Northveil Pack had known it: the Ashton heir was cherished beyond reason. And Caden Voss had loved me since we were young. Then I was stolen — held by a rival pack for seven years. When I came home, they held my hands and said, “Rena being here means nothing. We took her in to build good karma for you. You are still our only heart.” I believed them. I opened myself to Rena as a sister. But the warmth shifted slowly, then all at once. If Rena stumbled near me, Mom’s first question was whether I had pushed her. When Dad cooked, every dish was Rena’s favourite. Eli redirected his entire research toward a cure for Rena’s heart condition. And Caden, in arguments, once snapped at me to be more like Rena — gentler, sweeter, less difficult. Now they had carved my heart out to give it to her. And they planned to keep me alive as a walking blood reserve. The grief hit like claws raking through the chest. I wasn’t careful. I slipped. The fall cracked my surgical wounds open. I curled on the floor, gasping, and in a moment of pure instinct whimpered a single word into the tile. “Mom…” They came running — all four of them, the sound of their footsteps filling the hallway. Mom reached me first. She hauled me upright and fixed me with a furious stare. “Mara. I am so disappointed in you. You saw us with Rena, and now you’re throwing yourself on the floor for attention? You’re a grown wolf.”

Back at the Ashton estate, I was confined to a wheelchair under close watch. The pack healers had strict orders: I was not to harm myself again. Rena, meanwhile, was sprinting laps around the back courtyard in a pair of joggers, laughing as she went. Dad was out there too, passing her the ball, grinning the way I hadn’t seen him grin in years. Caden filmed her on his phone. Mom watched from the edge of the terrace with the look she used to reserve for me. I turned my wheelchair toward the garden path. “Ow!” Rena went down — a stumble, a sharp cry, grass-stained knees. All four of them surged to her side. Rena twisted and pointed at something on the ground near my chair. A small metal locking pin — fallen from the wheel assembly long before this moment. Her eyes filled. “Mara… I know you resent me for getting the transplant. I know you’re still in pain.” Her voice broke. “But I finally get to run. I finally get to feel what other wolves feel. How could you try to take that from me?” Mom crouched and examined Rena’s reddened shin with gentle hands. Dad looked at me with an expression like he’d bitten into something rotten. The vein at his temple pulsed. “Mara. We did not raise you to be this. What happened to you?” They looked at me the way wolves look at a rogue. Like I was something that needed to be dealt with. “I didn’t,” I said, my voice hollow. “That pin has been loose for days—” “Don’t make excuses.” Dad raised his hand. It swung toward my face. Caden caught his wrist. “Mara’s been through too much. Give her time.” Eli’s gaze cooled as it landed on me. “Fine. Rena’s been wanting to try that new private dining room downtown. We’ll celebrate her recovery.” He glanced back, expressionless. “You stay here and think about what you’ve done.” Caden hesitated. He looked at me, then at Rena — who grabbed his hand and swung it like a child, tilting her face up at him. “Come with us? You promised.” Caden patted my head. “Be good. I’ll bring back the seafood chowder you like.” I woke at 3 a.m. The bed beside mine was untouched. Caden had not come home. The whole estate was dark, except for one room — Rena’s. The door was slightly ajar. As I wheeled closer, a woman’s muffled, breathless voice bled through the gap. Caden’s voice came next, low and cracked with want. “You got the transplant. So when are you going to leave her? When?” “You’re the one I love. But Mara saved my life once — I can’t abandon her. And besides,” Rena’s voice softened, “if you have a rejection episode, we still need her blood.” “She can’t carry pups now. She can’t be a real mate. What does an Alpha heir need with a barren wolf?” I leaned against the cold wall outside that room for the rest of the night. Inside, they laughed. They whispered. They were tender with each other in a way I had believed was mine. When morning light came and the estate began to stir, I waited. I waited until all four of them passed through the hallway at the same moment. Then I threw open Rena’s door. In front of every witness, I ripped the sheets back and raised my phone.

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I was six months pregnant when I found torn lace lingerie stuffed under the mattress — it wasn’t mine. I went to confront my mate, but overheard him talking to a packmate instead. “The Prince’s bonding ceremony with Ivy is in seven days. You already marked her — what’s your plan?” Kael’s voice was ice. “If anyone finds out she’s already been marked, she’s dead — I won’t let her face it alone.” “Selene’s father and brother died defending the kingdom — the Lycan King promised her family could be pardoned for any crime. Have Ivy accuse Ryan publicly.” Calm. Every word poison. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, and the mate bond in my chest shredded. In my previous life, at the Luna Queen’s Celebration, Kael’s childhood sweetheart stumbled out half-naked, sobbing that my brother had forced his mark on her. The noble she-wolves couldn’t wait to spit on the Blackwood name. “Ivy is the Prince’s chosen mate — that Blackwood boy dared mark her? Beat him to death!” I invoked the pardon — the one my father and brother earned with their lives — and begged. The King honored his promise and spared Ryan, ordering him to mate Ivy instead. Then Kael shattered both my brother’s legs in front of everyone. He whispered, “If the King doesn’t vent now, he’ll kill your brother later.” We swallowed it — but seven months later, that she-wolf birthed a nine-pound pup. Ryan howled, “I never touched her!” He’d screamed it a thousand times — no one believed him, they called him a coward. He grabbed the pup and crawled toward the King’s hall to prove his innocence — Kael knocked him out cold from behind. I tried to scream — his hand closed around my throat. “Make a scene, and Ivy and the child are ruined,” he hissed. His eyes were murderous as he strangled me to death — his own Luna, days from giving birth. I woke up — the Moon Goddess sent me back to the night of the Celebration. This time, I tied Ryan with silver chains and locked him in the east wing. Ivy still claimed someone had raped her.

Ivy smashed her forehead against the Hall’s stone pillar, bleeding, shaking, sobbing in the women’s arms. “I bear another’s mark — I’ve betrayed the Prince — I’ve shamed the Ashfords — let me die!” Everyone glared at me like I was filth. “The Blackwood family is feral. They think killing a few rogues at the border gives them the right to ravage the Prince’s future mate.” “Riding on daddy’s war glory to do whatever the fuck they want. It’s pure lawlessness!” “My Goddess. If they’re this bold in the capital, imagine how many helpless she-wolves they’ve forced themselves on at the border!” I looked at the man shielding Ivy — my mate, Alpha Kael. I kept my voice flat. “Ivy, are you sure it was my brother?” She stiffened, tears pouring harder. “I’m already marked by him — why humiliate me — let me die!” She lunged for the pillar — the women dragged her back. Kael wrenched me aside, his face twisted with fury. “Your brother acts worse than a Rogue, and you bully the victim?” “Your father bled for the Blackwood name — you two destroyed it.” His grip bruised bone. I let out a cold laugh. Half an hour ago, I’d chained Ryan up myself — silver restraints, locked in the east wing. How the hell could he have gotten out to mark Ivy? I looked Kael dead in the eyes. “Are you sure it was my brother?” His jaw clenched. “I knocked the bastard out and tied him up myself — I pulled him off Ivy. You think I can’t recognize my own brother-in-law?” My stomach dropped. His certainty unsettled me — could Ryan have somehow broken free? “Selene, how long will you keep bullying this poor girl!” An elder she-wolf snapped at me. “You’re Kael’s mate — instead of standing by your mate, you shield your worthless brother.” “You even slander this poor girl!” I scoffed and swept my gaze across the self-righteous crowd. “So no matter what, whether Ivy actually lost her purity or not, my brother takes the blame.” “You —!” Ivy looked like I’d slapped her, tears rolling down. She pulled a blood-stained cloth from her dress and hurled it at my feet, voice cracking like she was coughing up her own soul. “I was a pure, unmated she-wolf — am I some cheap bitch who’d lie about this?” “If the Blackwoods won’t take responsibility, I’ll die right here — I’d rather be dead than tied to your filthy name!” She spun and lunged for the pillar — the women scrambled to hold her back.

“Stupid girl, don’t!” “It’s that Blackwood scum’s fault, not yours!” “You’ve suffered enough — don’t throw your life away for that bastard!” They comforted Ivy while glaring daggers at me. “Ivy is the Prince’s future mate!” “Your little pack thinks it’s something special? Why would she ruin herself to frame you?” Kael grabbed my wrist, putting on his concerned-husband act. “Selene, enough.” “Just accept it — prepare the mating gifts, go to the Ashfords, propose on Ryan’s behalf, and beg the King for mercy.” “The King might still spare his life. Otherwise, marking the Prince’s chosen mate — your brother will be killed by the King’s anger.” Last life, I believed his words. I believed Ryan had lost control, so I handed over half the Blackwood fortune as a mating gift and treated Ivy like a queen. Then she birthed a bastard at seven months and destroyed my entire family. My stomach turned. I ripped my arm from his grip. “The Blackwoods will never mate Ryan to that woman. Not in this life.” Kael’s face went cold, his eyes turning savage. Before he could speak, the crowd parted. Ivy’s father, Elder Ashford, stormed in. His face was purple with rage, body shaking — he walked straight to Ivy and cracked her across the face. She hit the ground hard, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. “Shameless bitch — you still have the nerve to breathe?” “Servants! Drag this filthy thing out and snap her neck — she’s disgraced the Ashford name!” Two Ashford wolves stepped forward. “Don’t bother — I’ll do it myself.” Ivy yanked a hairpin from her head and drove it straight toward her own throat. The crowd erupted. Screams, grabbing, pulling. “Selene! Are you just going to stand there and watch?” “If your brother hadn’t done this, Ivy wouldn’t be trying to kill herself!” “Your brother ruined a girl’s life — can you live with that?” I watched the whole show in silence. Ivy’s eyes flashed with something vicious — she gripped the pin and stabbed it into her neck. Blood gushed instantly. The women screamed. “She’s dead — the Blackwoods killed her!” Kael’s face went white — he lunged forward and ripped the pin from Ivy’s hand. “Healer! Get the healer now!” He tore a strip from his sleeve and pressed it against her throat. Ivy lay in their arms, weak, blinking — her eyes drifted to me. No death wish in them. Just a flicker of victory. Once Ivy was carried away, Kael stormed toward me. “Bitch!” He snarled, and backhanded me across the face. I stumbled and hit the ground. My palms scraped the cold stone, skin splitting open. The left side of my face burned, my ear ringing. Kael pointed down at me, eyes full of venom. “You heartless cunt — you wanted her dead, didn’t you?” “I won’t share my life with a cold-blooded she-wolf like you! I’m rejecting you today!” Everyone cheered like it was a holiday.

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On the night of the Spring Hunt Festival, to make the adopted girl laugh, my fiancé Killian and my brother Silas dressed me up as a toy. Selene tore my dress apart and smeared lipstick across my face, writing the word whore. I didn’t react, then she kicked me into the cesspit. By the time they fished me out, a crowd had gathered, phones raised, laughing. The noise was grating. Silas stood a hundred feet away, face twisted in disgust, hand over his nose, refusing to come closer. Selene’s smile was innocent. “Elara, happy Spring Hunt!” My fiancé tucked her behind him and spoke like it was nothing. “It was just a joke. Don’t take it to heart.” He raised a hand and signaled for someone to hose me down. I was knocked flat, skin turning purple from the cold, but I didn’t beg. Overnight, the video of me — stripped, soaked, bare — spread through every Pack in the region. Silas blamed me for ruining the Blackmoor Pack’s reputation and threw me out. Killian cancelled the engagement in front of everyone. “I can’t take a mate with a stain on her name.” I nodded to all of it. I didn’t argue. They thought I was putting on an act, pretending to be calm. They didn’t know the Trial was three days from ending. These people — I couldn’t stand the sight of them. …… In the courtyard, my father swung the silver whip, lash after lash across my back. “Shameless! Disgusting!” I didn’t explain. I just clenched my teeth. Arguing only made the beatings worse. I’d been brought back to this pack only days before. Selene accused me of stealing her moonstone pendant. My parents searched my room. Silas stripped me bare in front of everyone. They found nothing. I thought I’d get an apology. Instead, Silas slapped me so hard a tooth flew out. “You sold Selene’s pendant! Where’s the money!” My room was barely big enough to stand in. I didn’t own a single coin. I tried to explain. He hit harder, called me unrepentant. I curled into a corner. He kicked me until I coughed blood. Then Selene let out a little gasp. “Found it!” The moonstone pendant shimmered in the sunlight. All I felt was blinded. I looked at Silas. No guilt on his face. He said it flatly, like it was nothing. “Small misunderstanding. Don’t dwell on it.” “I’m Selene’s brother. I trust her completely.” Silas remembered he was Selene’s brother. He forgot I was his real sister. In the courtyard, my father’s whip kept falling. My body was covered in welts. Silas stood to the side. Didn’t say a single word for me. He was the one who let Selene humiliate me. When I was filmed naked, he blamed me for damaging the Pack’s reputation and threw my few clothes out the door. He told me to leave. I agreed. But my father roared. “You think you’re going somewhere? Haven’t you embarrassed us enough!” He took the silver whip and beat me for two hours. Called it Pack discipline. Two hours later, my mother frowned and stopped him. “Enough. Make her knock her head on the ground ninety-nine times. Then a written confession. We’ll call it even.” My father threw the whip down, voice sour. “You spoil her.” Spoil? I almost laughed. My mother’s version of kneeling meant my skull had to crack against the stone loud enough to hear. If it wasn’t loud, it didn’t count. The confession had to be written in blood. Less than ten thousand words, not sincere enough — do it again. But I didn’t say a word. I knelt and slammed my forehead down. When I passed out, they splashed cold water to wake me. I kept going. The blood confession ran twenty thousand words. Every character groveling, ground into dust. I thought it was enough. Selene pinched her nose and took a step back. “Silas, it’s not that I won’t let Elara inside — she just smells too bad.” Silas rubbed her head fondly, then slid his gaze sideways to me. “You don’t deserve the servants’ room. Go sleep with Nyx.” Nyx was Selene’s giant python. I was terrified of snakes. I remembered the day the warrior brought me back to this Pack. Selene had looked at me with the same disgust. But back then, Silas didn’t send me to the snake pit. He just put me in the dog kennel. The dog’s cage was bigger than the servants’ room I got later. As long as Selene didn’t give the order, the dog didn’t bite. I could at least sleep. The snake pit — absolutely not. I threw myself at my parents’ feet, knocking my head against the floor frantically. “Please — if I smell, I’ll leave the Pack House, I’ll sleep in the kennel — just don’t make me go in the pit.” My father’s expression shifted. A flicker of something almost soft. He was about to speak — Silas yanked me up by the collar. “Elara, cut the act!” “You think the Pack became a joke because of anyone else? Be grateful you have a roof at all!” He started dragging me toward the snake pit. I turned my head to look at my father. He looked away. The pit reeked. The stench nearly knocked me out. The snake’s tongue flicked across my face. I closed my eyes in despair. Then a voice reached me — warm, gentle, like a hand resting softly on my forehead. “Child. Two days remain before My trial ends.”

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The Whitmore heir is cold. I am insufferable. He refuses to share a bed with me, so I spend entire nights reciting the legal obligations of a spouse at his closed door. He starts coming home past midnight just to avoid me. So I go crying to his parents. The elder Whitmores make him kneel and take thirty lashes with a belt. I’m about to intervene when the comment feed flickers across my vision: [Can this dumb-ass woman just fast-forward to her miserable end already? Can’t she see he doesn’t want her?!] [His body is reserved for OUR female lead!] [Let her keep acting out. The female lead already got hired as Callum’s personal assistant — Callum’s going to fall for her soon, and their kid will start calling him Mommy. [Then this idiot wife throws a fit all over town, calling our female lead a homewrecker. [Gets tossed out by Callum himself, ends up in a psychiatric facility, degraded and broken every single night. [Honestly, just thinking about it is satisfying!] My hand jerks. I nearly drop my glass. The elder Mrs. Whitmore raises the belt again. I lunge forward. The strike lands across my back instead. Through Callum’s stunned stare, I bite down on the pain: “It’s all a misunderstanding.” …… That one actually hurt like hell. I suck in a sharp breath. Callum looks at me like he’s never seen me before. The comments explode with question marks: [What is Madeleine Shaw doing? This idiot wife just took a hit FOR him?] [Please. Wasn’t it her tantrum that got Callum punished in the first place?] I try to stand. The movement pulls at my back and sends a white-hot bolt of pain through me. Callum reaches out and catches my arm. [Oh, I see it now — classic manipulation!] [She took one hit so he’d have to help her up. Now she gets to use it against him!] [What a disgusting woman. I want to reach through the screen and slap her.] [Callum took ten lashes. She took one. And somehow she’s made herself the victim. Nobody calculates like she does.] My hand goes stiff. I pull away from Callum’s grip and manage a thin smile: “I’m fine. It really is just a misunderstanding between Callum and me both.” Callum’s hand freezes mid-air. [Oh, the old push-pull. Worse than any cheater I’ve ever seen.] [It’s fine. Once he ends up institution-bound and broken, I’ll have reason to keep reading.] I nearly lose my footing. When I turn back, Callum is still watching me. His gaze is exactly what it’s always been — distant and untouchable. I was the one who swore I’d marry no one but him. He was the one who never had any interest in me. But… a psychiatric facility? Humiliated. Destroyed. By his hand? Callum… could he really become that cruel?

Back at the penthouse, I lie face-down on the bed while the housekeeper tends to my back. Callum comes home. His sleepwear hangs loose at the collar. Bandaging wrapped across his chest — from where they’d gotten to him before I arrived. [Oh my god, battle-worn Callum?! That silhouette. That ratio. I can’t breathe.] [Cover up! Don’t let that woman take advantage!] [Your body belongs to the female lead! Don’t let her near you!] Callum can’t see those comments. He sets a basin of water beside the bed. Kneels at the edge. Wrings out a warm cloth. My back wound means no shower — just a wipe-down. The comments nearly swamp my vision: [So THAT’S why she suddenly grew a conscience! Took a hit just to get him on his knees in front of her!] [One calculated move and now he has to clean her up out of guilt. Pathetic.] [Her schemes and her reputation are perfectly matched. Does she think about anything besides power plays?] [Hold on, girls — the female lead just joined Callum’s company as his personal assistant.] [Callum’s glacier is going to melt. He’s going to discover he can love someone. And then she’ll pay.] [Just wait — when she goes around calling our female lead a homewrecker, Callum will make her pay for it.] [The author said she ends up beaten to death by a hundred men in that facility. FINALLY. Now I can keep reading.] I pull my hand back from his. The cloth Callum was pressing against my knuckles hangs in the air. “Go do what you want,” I say. Callum frowns. “What would I go do?” “Work late. Sleep in the guest room. Isn’t that your favorite routine?” “Madeleine.” He drops the cloth back into the water. “What are you scheming now?” I look at him. He’s kneeling — technically the lower position — but the look he aims at me is pure contempt. He has always been like this. Cold. Self-contained. He only agreed to this marriage because my family once saved his, and even that was a concession he resented. And yet — in these eight years of marriage, I have never let him breathe. He pulls away, I report it. He snaps at me, I report it. He disappears for a night, I take it straight to his parents. I’ve used the title of “wife” like a weapon, marking territory everywhere. But… I never wanted to actually hurt him. And yet he would end up doing that to me— My eyes sting. Why? He is my husband. The father of my child. A few arguments between us, and I’d die at the hands of some other man, broken and unrecognizable. “Callum.” I sit up. “I signed the agreement.” He stiffens. The steward lays a document on the bed between us. The marital non-interference agreement. The one he drafted before the wedding. A paper marriage. No physical contact. No intimacy. It had triggered every stubborn nerve in my body. My husband. Why shouldn’t I touch him? “From now on, I won’t push you anymore. Do whatever you want.” Callum stares at me like he doesn’t recognize the language. I expect him to say something. Instead, the agreement tears — strip by strip — between his fingers. “Callum?” He drops the shreds into the wastebasket. “What good does it do now?” Before I can make sense of that, the comments ignite: [She didn’t sign it at the wedding, waited until after she’d already had her way with him and there’s a child involved, and NOW she wants non-interference? Hilarious.] [Not just an idiot — a dramatic idiot.] [Our clean, untouched Callum — ruined. Because of HER.] [It’s fine. Everything she taught him, our female lead gets to enjoy later.] [I’m blushing — STOP.] Something in my chest pulls tight. So according to that feed — not only would Leo stop calling me Mom. Everything I’d ever taught Callum would become some other woman’s reward. I breathe through it. Then: “If the marital agreement is too late — what about divorce papers?” Callum goes very still.

“You want to divorce me?” Callum’s voice drops. “Yes.” I meet his eyes. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” He looks away. He’d proposed it himself, at the start. Three years. After three years, we’d separate. I could walk away with half his assets — the Whitmore family’s acknowledgment of what my parents had sacrificed for them. Three years was also enough time to make it look dignified. I refused. Took it to his parents. That day, Callum got torn apart in front of everyone. I’d stood there with my arms crossed, watching, pleased with myself. He’d looked back at me then — expressionless. No grief. No anger. Now that I’m finally offering to let him go, that look has only gotten colder. “What are you actually trying to do?” “Callum. I mean it. You write the terms. “Sign it, and I walk out with nothing. Whatever you want.” Callum’s brow creases. Then — a slow, bitter curve of his lips. “Madeleine. Stop it.” He stands, picks up the basin, and carries it out. That night, he doesn’t come to our room. Same as always. He’d never come to me unless I cornered him into it. Good. I didn’t want to share a bed with someone who was going to destroy me. I didn’t sleep. Callum could let go — fine. But the comments said Leo would stop calling me Mom? The next morning, still half-asleep, I found Leo already waiting in the doorway. My rule. Every morning, say good morning to both parents. Who says my son is going to belong to someone else? Look at him — standing right there, perfectly on schedule. But when breakfast hit the table, he opened his mouth: “Did you find out about aunt Ellie?” I blinked. “If you’re going to divorce Daddy, why do you have to make Ellie look bad?” Who was Ellie. How had I made him look bad. The comments lost their minds: [Leo’s defending our female lead!] [He’s right — filing for divorce now makes it look like Ellie broke up the family. Like she’s the other woman!] [She’s so calculated. God, I want to reach through the screen.] [She can’t fool Callum or Leo though — they’ve already called her out!] [Go for it, Leo! She only cares about her pride — her own kid is her only weak spot!] I stared at him: “You knew about this?” “Dad told me everything. Dad said you’re manipulative.” My fist tightened. So that was why Callum had been so hostile last night. I looked at Leo carefully. “If your dad and I actually divorced — who would you go with?” [Does she even have to ask? Leo’s already calling the female lead Mommy at the office. She’s so behind.] I went cold. Leo’s eyes fixed on mine. “You… you’re sure about the divorce? No taking it back?” [Ha! Leo’s already planning his new life.] [She did this to herself.] My own son… really didn’t want me? I ignored the pain in my back and sat up straight. “Leo.” I reached for his hand. He stepped back. I tried for his sleeve. He pulled free. I’ve had high expectations for him, it’s true. But every book, every activity, every choice — I thought through carefully. For him. I’m someone who never sat still for crafts in my life, and yet I became a passable bracelet-maker just for this child. I reached for his wrist. The woven bracelet there. Not one I’d made. “Don’t touch that!” Leo yanked his arm back like I’d contaminated something, retreating to the doorway. [Ha! Leo’s protecting it — Ellie made that for him!] “Leo…” I stared at him. He scrunched his nose. “Mom said it’s precious.” Then he turned and ran. The comments dissolved into laughter: [Those two are so in love with the female lead it’s embarrassing.] [Ellie braided Leo’s bracelet. Callum told him not to ruin it. Madeleine’s crafts? Leo can’t even be bothered to wear them.] [Love and indifference really are that obvious. Good. Let her hurt. It means our female lead wins.] I curled my fingers into my palm. Swallowed everything down. Fine. Fine, Madeleine Shaw. You brought this on yourself. I picked up my phone. “Usual place. Nobody better be missing.”

The private room erupts the moment I walk in — a dozen men, all different types, surging toward me at once: “The queen is back!” I drop onto the couch. Immediately, half of them are around me — offering drinks, working out the knots in my shoulders. “You disappeared after the wedding. We thought you’d forgotten us.” “Speak for yourself. I cried the hardest when she settled down.” “Please. I still look at her pictures every day. You don’t even compare.” “Alright, alright.” I wave them quiet. “Where’s Ryan?” Ryan Mercer. My favorite, back when I was the worst kind of player. If Callum hadn’t appeared out of nowhere when he did — I honestly don’t know if Ryan and I would’ve ended up together. He hasn’t changed much. Still exactly my type. I’m about to stand when my phone buzzes. “Word is the legendary heartbreaker is back in circulation?” “Finally woke up, babe! You’ve got a whole room of men there, don’t you?” I smirk. “Sending you the address.” A few minutes later, a small child is delivered to the door. My friend’s voice crackles through the phone, laughing: “My husband and I are on our honeymoon! Have your little fan club babysit for me!” “Sara Collins, I swear to god—” There’s a kid here. What am I supposed to do with a room full of men now? Ryan laughs and scoops the boy up: “Maddie, look at him — he’s got a bit of both of us, don’t you think?” “Mama!” The child reaches for me with both arms. Just like Sara. Shameless. Instant attachment. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fine. “Can you handle a kid?” I look at Ryan. “With you? No problem.” I wave the others off. Just Ryan with me was enough. I couldn’t exactly let loose with a child in the room. Watching Sara’s boy around Leo’s age, I feel something bitter settle in my chest. The things I’d normally do aren’t an option right now, so I take the two of them to the mall instead. We’re in the middle of holding a tiny jacket up against the boy when every sales associate in the store suddenly straightens up: “Ms. Ellie! Mr. Whitmore! You’re here!” I look up. Callum is holding Leo’s right hand. A woman — sharp-featured, warm smile — is holding his left.

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The Guardian Clan’s Alpha Lord was choosing a mate for his heir — and he did it the old way. Two vials of essence were placed on the ceremonial stone table. One was clear and cool as moonlight, crisp, clean, carrying the faint trace of winter herbs. The other was warm and honeyed, thick with sweetness that clung to the air like nectar. I stood behind the woven partition with my half-sister, watching through the latticed screen as Kael Dawnfang hesitated. His nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. Then, after a long, agonizing moment, he reached out and lifted the moonlit vial. My half-sister, Flora, let out a soft, triumphant laugh beside my ear. “Sister,” she whispered, “you’ve lost. Kael chose me.” Kael had known all along. He knew I was the one who had distilled the cool, silver essence — the moonlit vial was mine. Flora’s was the honeyed one. And yet he hadn’t chosen it. “If I don’t choose Flora,” Kael murmured quietly to himself, just loud enough for me to catch through the partition, “she’ll reach the age of the Moon Decree. She’ll be force-bonded to whoever the Lunar Tribunal assigns. She’s lowborn — half-blooded. Who in the high clans would ever be paired with her?” “Once she passes the decree deadline, I’ll dissolve the promise and come for you properly.” But he had forgotten. I was Flora’s elder sister. I was older than her. If I had no bond-promise in place, in three days’ time, I would be sent to the Crown Wolf’s palace — to serve as the mate of the Wolf Prince, who lay dying of the Moon Sickness. To be his anchor. His cure. His sacrifice. … I watched Kael’s fingers trail across the edge of the honeyed vial before lifting the moonlit one. Something inside me went quiet — the way a fire goes quiet when there is nothing left to burn. Flora pressed close to my ear, victorious and shameless. “Sister, the heir chose me.” “Don’t be sad, Sister. He must only pity me. His heart has always belonged to you.” At the front of the hall, my father — Alpha Lord Wren Silverstone, head of the Guardian Clan — watched Kael’s choice with a face that went pale as ash. He turned to look at me. He had been so certain this was settled. How had it gone wrong? The hall was full of clan nobility who had all understood why today’s gathering had been called: the Guardian Clan’s firstborn daughter was choosing her mate. Now they surged forward to offer congratulations, voices bright with false warmth. “Alpha Lord Silverstone, what a blessing — Heir Dawnfang is a fine choice indeed!” “The Dawnfang Heir with the Guardian Clan’s pure-blooded daughter — a perfect bond!” My father’s expression hardened. He looked at Kael directly. “You have chosen Flora — the half-blooded daughter of my household. Are you certain of this, Heir Dawnfang?” The gazes around me shifted. Pity replaced admiration. Everyone had assumed Kael had chosen me. No one had expected him to choose Flora. “Lyra Silverstone — how pitiful. Her own half-sister stole her bond-match.” “Surely not. She has waited for the heir so long. If her promise falls through, won’t she fall under the Moon Decree?” Kael crossed the room toward Flora, took her hand, and stepped forward. “Alpha Lord Silverstone,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “I am drawn to Flora. I wish to bond with her as my mate.” The whispers swarmed around me like insects. Flora was immediately surrounded by a flock of highborn girls offering congratulations. She was the future mate of a Clan Heir — of course they would fawn over her now. Kael slipped away from the crowd and found me in the corner. His voice dropped low, coaxing, like he was soothing something he had already broken. “All right, Lyra. Don’t be angry. It’s just a performance. A delay.” “Flora was crying all last night. If I don’t choose her, she’ll be swept up by the Decree. She’s low-ranked — who would the Tribunal pair her with? Someone unworthy.” “Trust me. Once she’s past the Decree window, I’ll find a way to dissolve the bond with her and bring you into my home properly. I swear it.” I tightened my fist at my side. I looked at him steadily. “Heir Dawnfang,” I said, very quietly. “I am Flora’s elder sister. Did you think, even once — if our bond-promise falls through today, I will reach the Decree before Flora does. I am older.” “Are you not concerned that I will be force-bonded?” Kael blinked. He had forgotten entirely. I was the elder. I would trigger the Moon Decree before Flora. Flora drifted over then, her lashes low, her voice a trembling thread. “Sister, please don’t be angry with the heir. Flora was just so frightened. I only wanted him to help me this once.” “You’re pure-blooded. You’ll never understand how invisible a half-blood feels. No high clan would ever look at me. I have lived my whole life in your shadow, Sister.” “You’ve always been the jewel of Ashfen — and you have the Moonguard Clan behind you through our grandfather. You shine in everything. How could the Decree ever touch you?” “Father and Grandfather will find a way around it for you. You’ll be fine.” “Please, Sister. Give me the heir. Just this once. Let him help me.”

Flora’s words made the ache in Kael’s expression deepen. He drew Flora against his side protectively and looked at me over her head. “Lyra,” he said. “Flora has asked you herself. Is that not enough?” “She’s right — you’re pure-blooded, and you’re the granddaughter of the Moonguard Alpha. You won’t be taken by the Decree. Your father and grandfather will arrange something. Wait half a year. Once Flora is past her deadline, I’ll come for you and bond with you properly.” “It’s only a little time. Can you really not wait?” My eyes stung. The truth was — I couldn’t. It didn’t matter that my father was the Guardian Clan’s Alpha Lord. It didn’t matter that my grandfather led the Moonguard. The Moon Decree was issued by the Great Wolf King himself. Who dared defy it? My father and grandfather might be powerful. But no power was greater than the Crown. And then there was the divine mandate that sat in our clan’s sacred chamber — the one I had been trying not to think about. If I reached my eighteenth moon-year without a bond-promise secured, I would be sent to the Crown Wolf’s palace as the mate of the Wolf Prince. The Prince was gravely ill — consumed by the Moon Sickness, a curse that devoured its host from the inside out. Going to the palace would be no honor. It would be a slow walk toward becoming a widow before I had truly been a wife. When the mandate had first arrived at our gates, I had not been afraid. Because I had known Kael would bond with me. I had never imagined this. I kept my expression still, my voice soft as I looked at Kael. I let the smallest crack show in my eyes. “Will you truly not reconsider? You’ve chosen Flora — and every promise we made to each other means nothing now?” Kael smiled — gentle, certain of himself. “It means everything. I told you. Half a year. Once Flora is past this, we’ll formalize our bond-promise again. The mate of the Dawnfang Heir will only ever be you, Lyra.” I closed my eyes. It was done. Whatever had lived in my chest — it was gone now. Flora tucked herself against Kael’s arm and looked up at the lunar silver ornament pinned in my hair, her eyes soft with deliberate longing. “Sister, the Heir said he’ll come to present bonding gifts in three days. Could you lend me that moonsilver ornament? The one you’re wearing?” “You know I don’t have anything grand enough to mark the occasion properly. If I look unworthy, it reflects on the whole Silverstone household.” “And we wouldn’t want anyone saying Sister couldn’t be gracious to her half-sister, would we?” That ornament had been left to me by my mother. It was part of my bonding inheritance. Flora knew exactly what it was. She was asking anyway. I had no patience left for pretending. “Flora,” I said evenly. “I cannot give you this piece. I will ask Father to send to the Moonstone Vault to have something new chosen for you.” Flora’s eyes reddened. “But this one matches my ceremony gown so perfectly. I’d only borrow it for the day — I’d return it after. Is that truly not allowed?” “Sister, I know you’re unhappy that the heir chose me. But I really do love this piece. Won’t you let me?” Kael’s expression shifted toward displeasure as he looked at me. “Lyra, you’re being small-hearted. It’s an ornament. If she likes it, give it to her. I’ll have the Moonstone Vault send you two pieces as a replacement.” Three days from now was the day they would formalize their bond. Three days from now was also the day I would be leaving for the Crown Wolf’s palace. That ornament was coming with me. My mother had made me promise she would see it on me at my bonding ceremony. I would not let anyone take that. “Flora,” I said quietly, “if you know something doesn’t belong to you, you should not want it.” Kael’s brow furrowed and his voice sharpened. “Enough, Lyra. Choosing Flora was my decision. Blame me if you must. Why are you making this about the sisters?” I stepped back. My voice went cold and clear. “Heir Dawnfang — since you have chosen Flora, you are now my sister’s future mate. Please conduct yourself accordingly. You should not be speaking to your mate’s elder sister in that tone.” “If you want to shower her with gifts from the Moonstone Vault, that is entirely your affair. But as for my possessions — Flora, hear me clearly — not a single one of them is yours to touch.”

Flora’s tears slid down her cheeks. “Sister, I only love that ornament because Mother always said she hoped I would wear red and silver at my bonding ceremony.” “I only wanted to honor her wishes. I’m just a half-blood. I don’t dare dream of much. Is even this small thing not allowed?” Kael caught my wrist as I turned to leave. His grip was hard — hard enough to bruise. “Lyra.” His voice was low and taut. “Name a price for the moonsilver ornament. I’ll buy it from you outright.” Before I could pull away, his other hand reached up and unpinned the ornament from my hair. I hadn’t moved fast enough. My hair tumbled loose over my shoulders. For a highborn pure-blood daughter, to have her hair unbound before a crowd was one of the deepest humiliations a woman could suffer. It was an exposure — an unmaking. Kael knew this. He did it anyway. He passed the ornament to Flora. “Stop crying. I’ll pay your sister for it. Consider it a bonding gift from me.” The fury that rose in me was clean and absolute. I struck him across the face. The crack of it rang through the room. Five marks bloomed red against his cheek. “Flora,” I said sharply, reaching out. “Give it back.” Flora stumbled backward. The ornament slipped from her fingers and hit the stone floor. Then, deliberately — so deliberately — she stepped on it. “Oh no,” she breathed. “It broke.” The moonsilver shattered into fragments beneath her heel. The chain snapped. The carefully wrought links scattered across the floor like fallen stars. She pressed her hand over her mouth. “Sister, if you didn’t want to give it, you only had to say. I would have handed it back. You didn’t have to grab — I didn’t mean to drop it, I was startled—” “Please don’t be angry. I’ll give you all my moon-allowance to buy a new one. All right?” I lowered myself to the floor. I stopped thinking about my hair, about how I looked, about anything except gathering every piece. One by one I picked them up, my hands steady even as my eyes burned. Tears fell on the backs of my hands and did not stop. Kael crouched beside me, reaching to help, his voice awkward. “It’s only an ornament, Lyra. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.” “Stop crying. I’ll replace it — five pieces, ten if you want.” I shoved him away. I did not let him touch a single fragment. I folded them all into my handkerchief and held it tight. I looked up at him, and my voice was flat. “Kael Dawnfang. You could not afford to replace this.” Flora opened her mouth again. I turned and struck her across the face before she could speak. “Flora.” My voice did not shake. “You knew this was the bonding inheritance my mother left me. She asked me, at the end, to wear it at my ceremony. You knew. And you destroyed it deliberately.” “Remember this. I will not forgive you. I will collect what is owed.” Kael stared at me. “What — Lyra — this was your mother’s inheritance? Why didn’t you say?” I looked at him the way you look at something you once valued and no longer do. “Saying anything further to someone like you makes me sick.” “Heir Dawnfang. You have made your choice. Live with it well. From this day, you are a stranger to me. Do not call me Lyra again. We are nothing to each other.” That night, I stood in the clan’s sacred chamber before the royal mandate. My father stood beside me, his eyes wet. “Father,” I said quietly. “I am willing to go to the Crown Wolf’s palace.” He shook his head, his voice rough. “The Prince is gravely ill, Lyra. Going to him — it’s not a bonding. It’s a sacrifice. Please, if you are unwilling, let your grandfather find a young warrior in the Moonguard for you. Anything would be better than this.” I shook my head. “The mandate stands. Had it been Kael Dawnfang, there might have been room to maneuver — the Queen knows our clans once had an informal promise. Anyone else would be defying the Crown.”

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