Category: English

At the wrap party for his new hit series, someone suggested playing Sympatico, the AI-driven compatibility game that was trending everywhere. The premise was simple: upload digitized memories—letters, photos, milestones—and let the algorithm analyze the emotional alignment. A score above ninety percent meant soulmate status. “Let’s try it, Adam,” I said, uploading a folder containing a decade’s worth of our photos, emails, and scanned letters. I wanted to solidify my place as his wife in front of the flashing press cameras. Adam Cross was a genius screenwriter. Every sweeping, heart-wrenching romance he penned was celebrated by the public as a love letter to me, his long-time partner and muse. He looked slightly annoyed by the spectacle, but he gave a curt nod anyway. The screen loaded. Our compatibility score popped up: Ten percent. Underneath, the AI’s diagnostic reading read: Unrequited. Zero emotional resonance. A collective gasp rippled through the banquet hall. I froze, my cheeks burning so intensely I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “Mind if I take a turn?” The voice belonged to Isla Rowe, Adam’s notorious rival director, who rarely showed her face at these industry events. She stepped forward, casually typing in a few keywords of her own. The massive screen flashed instantly. The compatibility score hit a blinding one hundred percent. Beside me, the usually stoic, unshakeable Adam began to tremble so violently he could barely hold his champagne flute. A cold dread washed over me, numbing me from head to toe. In that single, devastating second, I understood. Every tragic, beautiful female lead he’d ever written—the ones that made millions of women weep—weren’t modeled after me. They were written for Isla. The woman who had ruthlessly abandoned him years ago to chase her career abroad. … “Unbelievable!” the host cried, practically pushing Isla toward Adam in his excitement. Before she could steady herself, she let out a soft gasp and stumbled straight into his chest. Adam, who usually despised public displays of affection, didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her steady with a desperate, white-knuckled grip. “I guess you can’t fight fate!” someone shouted from the crowd. The press went wild. The rapid-fire click of shutters and blinding camera flashes turned the room into a strobe-lit blur. There were even jokes rippling through the audience about turning this wrap party into an impromptu engagement party. I stood entirely outside the circle of light, a ghost at my own celebration. The ten percent on the screen felt like a physical blow, leaving one side of my face burning as if I’d been slapped. “Who is she?” my voice sounded hollow, like dry leaves scraping over concrete. The assistant director, standing next to me, slapped his thigh in excitement. “Oh, that’s right. You only joined the production company three years ago.” “Isla and Adam went to film school together. Back then, they were the golden couple of the indie scene—brilliant, passionate, unstoppable.” He sighed, his expression turning nostalgic. “But then she abruptly moved to Europe, and they lost touch.” He glanced at me, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “The famous ‘one who got away’ in Adam’s breakout script? The archetype for every heroine he’s written since? That’s her. Now that she’s back, I’m guessing the script of his life is about to get a major rewrite.” I stared at Isla’s face. When she smiled, the slight, upturned curve of her eyes was identical to mine. Or rather, mine had been subtly molded into hers over the last ten years, shaped by Adam’s gentle corrections, his quiet preferences, his whispered instructions on how I should wear my hair and present myself to the world. My chest tightened, a rusty blade twisting in my ribs. Noticing my pale face, the assistant director tried to smooth things over. “Hey, it’s just a party game. Don’t take it to heart, Fiona.” Needing to prove something—anything—I reached out and clicked the reset button on the screen, stubbornly re-entering our shared memories. Adam finally looked over at me, his brow furrowed in a slight, warning frown. I didn’t look back at him. I just watched the progress bar on the screen flicker and load. Ten percent. It didn’t budge. Because my side of the ledger was filled with ten years of quiet sacrifices, compromises, and desperate attempts to please him. His side of the ledger didn’t even have my name written on it. “Must be a system glitch,” the assistant director muttered, letting out a forced laugh. “I mean, Fiona is Adam’s exclusive leading lady. There’s no way they don’t have chemistry.” The crowd around us murmured awkwardly, quickly shifting their attention back to the main stage. In our industry circles, everyone knew about Adam and me. They knew I’d drunk myself to the point of a bleeding stomach ulcer to secure the seed funding for his first major film. They knew I’d lived in a damp, isolated cabin in the Pacific Northwest for six months just to help him find his creative spark. To them, I was the devoted, slightly pathetic woman who had clawed her way into his orbit. But what none of them knew was that Adam and I were already married. Standing there in the cold draft of the banquet hall, a terrible realization dawned on me. All those years of tender gazes, those quiet moments when he looked at me with such profound, aching depth… was he ever actually looking at me? Or was he looking right through me, searching for the ghost of someone else? “Adam, it’s too loud in here. My head hurts,” Isla murmured, tugging gently at the sleeve of his tailored suit jacket. Her tone carried an easy, practiced intimacy. “Can we get out of here?” One of the lead investors immediately tossed his car keys across the table. “Go on, Adam. Take care of our director. That’s top priority tonight!” I stared at Adam, waiting. He avoided my eyes entirely. Assisting Isla by the elbow, he began guiding her toward the exit. “I’ll drop her off first,” he muttered as he brushed past me, his voice low and dismissive. “We’ll talk later.” They vanished into the VIP corridor. The noise of the party resumed around me, but my world had quietly collapsed. I spent the rest of the night wearing a painted-on smile, nodding until my jaw ached. By the time the guests began to filter out, the hollow ache in my chest had only grown sharper. “Goodnight, Fiona,” the assistant director said, waving as he headed for the door. “Adam mentioned you guys had a major announcement tomorrow. Wedding bells finally?” I forced my lips to stretch into another smile, though my throat felt thick with unshed tears. “No,” I whispered. “No announcement.” Three months ago, I had custom-ordered a platinum band to surprise him with on the night we finally went public with our marriage. Now, the small velvet box felt like a lead weight in my clutch. Suddenly, the thought of giving it to him made me feel sick. By midnight, the venue was empty. I checked my phone. The dozens of texts I’d sent Adam remained unread, unanswered. “Excuse me, ma’am,” a security guard said gently, approaching me. “We’re locking up the building.” “Of course. Sorry.” I reached for the chair to grab my silk wrap, only to realize it was gone. Adam had draped it over Isla’s bare shoulders before they left. Outside, a bitter spring rain was falling, the wind cutting through my thin dress. I sat on a bench under the awning of a closed coffee shop until the early hours of the morning, shivering, until my phone finally buzzed. It was Adam. “Are you still at the venue? It’s pouring. Stay put, I’m coming to get you.” Twenty minutes later, his black sedan pulled up to the curb. I opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. Immediately, the scent of expensive, smoky woodwind perfume mixed with a hint of tobacco hit me. It was Isla’s signature scent. “She was having an anxiety attack. I had to stay until she calmed down,” he said, his tone perfectly even as he shifted into drive. I opened my mouth to speak, but my eyes caught a crumpled piece of notepad paper wedged in the gap of the console. I smoothed it out. Written in Adam’s distinctive, elegant cursive was a script note: The first kiss after their reunion. A cool, rainy night in May. The paper felt like a hot coal in my hand, scorching my fingertips. “I told you to wait inside,” Adam said, glancing down at my damp heels and wet hem. He reached into the backseat, grabbed a cashmere throw, and tossed it onto my lap. The blanket carried that same unfamiliar, smoky-sweet scent. I didn’t touch it. I let it slide off my knees onto the floor. “Who is Isla Rowe to you?” The silence in the car became heavy, suffocating. “A director. A colleague.” “Just a colleague?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Then why did the algorithm say you were a one-hundred-percent match? Why did the assistant director say she’s the blueprint for every love story you’ve ever written?” And what about me? I wanted to scream. Am I just a lump of clay you carved into her likeness because you couldn’t have the real thing? “It’s a machine, Fiona. Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his brow furrowing with irritation. “The press was watching. If I didn’t play along, it would have ruined her night and made me look like an amateur. She’s sensitive. Her pride is fragile, and she doesn’t handle being sidelined well.” “And what about me?” I interrupted, my voice cracking. “Do I deserve to watch my husband walk out of his own party with another woman? Do I deserve to stand in the freezing rain for two hours waiting for him?” He didn’t answer. He just pressed down on the gas pedal, his jaw set. This was always his way. Whenever things got too real, whenever he couldn’t deflect, he built a wall of silence. Our marriage license had been signed in secret, a deathbed wish from his ailing father. Back then, I believed that if I was patient enough, if I loved him deeply enough, the lack of a proper wedding or public recognition wouldn’t matter. After a few blocks, he reached out, his voice tight. “Give me the note.” I didn’t move. “Adam, do you still love her?” “No.” “Then who is that rainy-night kiss written for?” He finally snapped, turning to glare at me with a cold, sharp annoyance I had never seen before. “Fiona, are you done throwing a tantrum?” “We are legally married. Our families’ assets are tied together. What exactly are you insecure about?” “A tantrum?” The word tore a physical wound in my chest. “Is that what this is? Then why did you force me to wear a perfume I hated? Why did you spend years dictating how I speak, how I act, how I carry myself on camera? Weren’t you just trying to build a ghost?” Adam slammed on the brakes, pulling the car abruptly to the curb. He let out a harsh, dry laugh, as if I’d just said something incredibly naive. “You’re flattering yourself,” he said, his voice flat and cruel. “If you think you could ever be her surrogate, you’re not even close.” He shifted back into drive, and the rest of the ride home was silent. The moment we walked through the front door, he headed straight up to his third-floor study, closing the heavy oak door with a definitive click of the lock. I shut myself in the master bedroom, staring at the velvet box containing the platinum band. On the nightstand sat our only photo together. It was taken the night he won his first major screenwriting award. I had practically forced myself into the frame. In the photo, Adam’s head is turned slightly, his gaze directed off-camera, while I smiled radiantly at the lens. I used to think he was just camera-shy. But looking at it now, I realized he wasn’t looking away from the camera. He was looking at the empty VIP seat in the second row—the one reserved for Isla. Adam had never been stingy with money. The gifts he gave me were always from high-end auction houses—diamond tennis bracelets, sapphire necklaces. They were flawless, expensive, and entirely cold. A guilt offering. But he never walked through a park with me. He never remembered my birthday. And whenever we were intimate, he insisted on turning off every single light, tracing the contours of my face repeatedly in the pitch-black silence. The realization hit me so hard my vision blurred with tears. Down the hall, the sound of his office printer began to hum. I walked out of the bedroom and stood by his secondary desk in the hallway. The printer was spitting out pages of his new series outline. The pages kept rolling until the machine paused on a password-protected digital document on his synced tablet. I reached out. I tried my birthday. Incorrect. Our wedding anniversary. Incorrect. My fingers trembled as I typed in the date Isla had boarded her flight to Europe ten years ago. Access granted. It was a digital archive of journal entries, spanning a decade. A private gallery of his grief, written for an audience of one. “Met a girl today, Isla. She asked me for a job. When she laughs, her eyes crinkle just like yours.” “I taught her how to play the role from your thesis film today. For a second, when the light hit her, I thought you walked through the door.” Every entry was a masterpiece of longing, a monument of devotion. He knew how to write love letters. He just didn’t want to write them to me. I kept scrolling, my chest aching, until I reached an entry timestamped from early this morning. “Ten years. We finally got our rainy-night kiss.” “Fiona wore the wrap tonight. From behind, she looked exactly like you. But when she turned around, the illusion broke. It’s never you.” My tears dripped onto the tablet screen, smudging the words. I leaned against the desk, catching my reflection in the dark window pane. I had spent ten years smoothing down my rough edges for him, studying acting, refining my speech, trying to be the perfect woman for Adam Cross. Only to realize I was just a cheap, knock-off copy. The last file in the folder was a photo taken just hours ago. A blurry shot of a woman’s back, draped in my silk wrap, looking out at the rain through a window. The caption read: “Isla, the rain tonight tastes like you.” I stared at those words, then looked out at the cold spring rain still streaking down the glass. Adam, I thought, I am so done with this marriage. A sudden wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to run to the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink as my stomach heaved. To please him, I had traded my vibrant wardrobe for muted silk slip dresses. I had learned to lower my voice, to tilt my chin down when I spoke, to look up at him through my eyelashes. I thought he was just helping me perfect my craft. But he was just sculpting his masterpiece. I had given him the best decade of my life, and in return, I didn’t even get the dignity of being his wife. I was just a placeholder waiting to be discarded the moment the original returned. I walked down the hall toward the locked storage room at the very end of the corridor. Adam had forbidden me from ever going near it. But tonight, the rules didn’t matter. I went down to the garage, grabbed a heavy mallet, and walked back up. With three hard swings, the brass lock shattered, and the door swung open. The moment I stepped inside, the sheer weight of his obsession suffocated me. The room was a shrine to Isla Rowe. Racks of clothing lined the walls. There was the emerald gown she wore to her college graduation, the red dress she wore when she won her first international award. Adam had hunted down duplicates of every single outfit she’d ever worn and hung them here. And in the center of the room stood a dressmaker’s mannequin, draped in an unfinished lace wedding gown. It was the exact silhouette I had pointed out to Adam in a magazine a hundred times. I had begged him for a wedding like that. What had he said? “You don’t have the presence for a design like that yet, Fiona. Let’s wait.” He wasn’t waiting for me to grow into it. He was waiting for her to come back. Beneath the mannequin sat a wooden chest filled with dozens of unsent letters. Every date on those envelopes corresponded with a milestone in my life with him. The day I was discharged from the hospital after my stomach surgery, he had written to her: “She is weak today. Her pale face reminds me so much of how you looked the day you left.” The day we secretly signed our marriage license: “The family pressured me. I found the closest match to you to keep them quiet and protect the estate.” My entire existence had been reduced to a footnote in his grand love story with another woman. “What do you think you’re doing in here?” A cold, hard voice cut through the silence. Adam stood at the doorway, his eyes dark with fury. He marched into the room, tearing the letters out of my hands, and shoved me back. My forehead clipped the sharp edge of the mahogany wardrobe. A sharp pain shot through my skull, and spots danced in my eyes. “Adam, you are disgusting,” I whispered, pointing at the room full of relics. “Using me as a cheap bandage for your ego? Do you even have a soul?” He carefully smoothed out the crumpled edges of the envelopes, not even looking at me. “Fiona, don’t play the martyr,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Your family’s firm was on the brink of bankruptcy when you practically begged me to marry you.” “For ten years, you’ve used the Cross name to secure every major role you’ve had. Do I need to list them for you?” I stared at him, the sheer cruelty of his words piercing me like physical blades. “I want a divorce,” I said, gripping the wardrobe to steady myself. “Adam, we’re done.” His casual demeanor vanished. His jaw clenched. “A divorce? Get real, Fiona.” “Tomorrow night is the press gala for the new series. It’s also the night our families sign the contract renewal.” “If you walk now, you lose everything. You’re thirty. Without the Cross backing, what roles do you think you’re going to get in this town?” “I don’t care,” I said, my voice shaking but resolute. “I’d rather scrub floors than spend another second living with a ghost.” “Fine.” Adam pulled his phone out and tossed it at my feet. “Call your parents right now. Tell them you’re going to bankrupt the family business for the sake of your pride. See if they tell you to suck it up, or if they cheer for your independence.” With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone and dialed my father. I poured my heart out, my voice breaking as I told him everything. But when I finished, there was only a long, heavy silence on the other end. “Fiona,” my father said slowly. “Adam is an artist. Creative minds are temperamental. As long as he keeps you in that house and the contracts are signed, you’re the one with the ring. Don’t ruin this for us. Be smart.” The line went dead. It felt like a final sentence. Adam walked over, looking down at me with cold satisfaction. “See? Everyone expects you to keep playing the part.” “Just be good, Fiona. And you’ll always be Mrs. Cross.” Looking at his handsome, entirely empty face, I felt a deep, physical revulsion. I pushed past him, stumbled out of the bedroom, and began throwing my clothes into a suitcase. “Run away if you want,” he called out down the hallway. “But if you’re not at that gala tomorrow night—you know the consequences.” I didn’t look back. As I reached for my jewelry box to pack the platinum band, my hand brushed against a white envelope from my doctor’s office. My fingers froze. Adam, I thought, looking down at the positive test results, I am leaving you. And I am taking this life with me.

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On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, Seraphina, my “best friend”, broke our promise. She said she was going to the Red Sand Desert for the Blood Moon festival. I stood at the portal to our pack’s Sacred Grounds, Ancestor’s Peak, in a panic. She had promised to come with me to Moonlight Lake on the Sacred Mountain. That’s where I was supposed to make my first-bite confession to Kael. It was the end of a ten-year crush. A ritual meant to bind our fates together. Uneasily, I looked at Kael, my childhood friend. Kael was polishing his silver dagger. He said casually, “Why don’t we go to the Red Sand Desert instead? I heard the Blood Moon there is incredible.” I stared at him, then shook my head. “Ancestor’s Peak has a moon too. If she doesn’t want to keep her promise, fine. We’ll go without her.” Kael looked up and turned his claw-phone toward me. The screen showed the payment page for a Blood Moon Feast pass. He smiled. “That’s the problem, Elara. I don’t want to go anymore either.” … “Why?” I bit my lip. Behind me, the pack Elders were already calling us forward. The portal to the Sacred Grounds was about to close. Kael glanced at his screen, smiling to himself. “Check Seraphina’s HowlNet. I just realized Red Sand might be worth it.” I opened her profile. “You may not go to Ancestor’s Peak with me, but the moonlight in Red Sand is beautiful. Scars, sandstorms, and wolf howls will all become part of my awakening.” Underneath was a photo of her bag and a one-way pass to the desert. I looked up at him. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me behind to go with her?” Kael sighed and rubbed my head, the way he always did. Like a big brother. “Elara, I can’t protect you forever. You need to learn to hunt on your own.” “I have my own instincts. My own wants. Those matter too.” “The Blood Moon there is rare. I want to see it for myself. So don’t look at me like that, okay?” He held my gaze. There was tenderness in his eyes. Resignation. Even pleading. But not the possessiveness I wanted—the fierce, instinctive claim of a mate. A bad feeling rose in my chest. Wolves with the same instincts always grow closer. I wanted to grab his arm like before. “Kael, can’t you choose our pack’s Sacred Mountain?” Can’t you choose me?

This time, he pulled his hand back without hesitation. “Just this once, okay?” Behind me, the Elders were already urging me on. I looked at him and said nothing. All I could think about was the ceremony I had prepared for him— the moon phases, the Sacred Grounds, the ancient rites, the seven-day plan I had rewritten countless times, all for one purpose: to tie my fate to his. Was I really supposed to give that up? Not just the ritual. But him. Just like that? I turned away, biting back a sob, with one thought stuck in my head: why had Seraphina chosen now to break our promise? If she hadn’t, would he have gone with me? Kael raised a hand, then lowered it again. My throat tightened. “Then let me go to the Red Sand Desert with you, okay?” He said nothing for a long time. At last, he began, haltingly, “All right—” I was already moving. Bag in hand, I ran into the portal without looking back. We had grown up together. I knew what his silence meant. His furrowed brow had always been more honest than his words. He didn’t want the desert’s Blood Moon. He wanted the one waiting for him there. In the end, we were the same. After the coming-of-age rite, we had both wanted to give our first bond to the person we loved. I ran as if I could leave betrayal behind.

The Sacred Grounds was too pure for a lone wolf like me. Its power hit too hard, and the wolf power inside me began to slip out of control. My body burned as if I’d been thrown into flame. A red glow pulsed beneath my skin. I’d even had three nosebleeds. I crouched by the mountain path, clutching a moonstone and drawing in its faint energy. At that very moment, in the Red Sand Desert, Seraphina twisted her ankle during the festivities, and Kael carried her to the healing tent. Later, she posted a message: Lucky I had you. You value my life more than I do. That was why he had taught me to hunt alone. So he could go take care of another wolf. I heard it from the other young wolves too. Kael and Seraphina had taken the same Griffin Express to the Red Sand Desert. So it hadn’t been impulsive. Maybe he had known from the start— I was going to confess to him at the Sacred Grounds. Maybe Seraphina had told him. During coming-of-age season, travel passes to the major territories were almost impossible to secure. Kael’s trip to the Red Sand Desert wasn’t last-minute. He and Seraphina had booked it together long ago. I covered my face, wanting to cry, but I was too drained to manage even that. I lay in a cave at the Sacred Grounds all afternoon. Only then did I have the strength to call Kael. The call connected almost immediately. Kael answered. Distance and interference blurred his usually gentle voice. The moment he spoke, tears spilled down my face. “Elara? What’s wrong?” “Are you having fun over there?” Fun? I had spent the whole afternoon miserable on a freezing stone bed. He must have heard the hurt in my silence. He sighed and gave in. “I’ll stay in the Red Sand Desert for three days. Then I’ll come to the Sacred Grounds for the other four, all right?” “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you behind.” I could hear howls and laughter in the background. Then Seraphina’s voice drifted over the line: “Which compartment did you put my silver-thread armor in?” I froze. My mind went blank with a roar.

They were staying in the same tent. I suddenly remembered that I couldn’t reach Kael for three hours before we left. Was that because he was helping Seraphina pack for the desert? After the call ended, I replayed everything like a maniac. When did those two, who supposedly couldn’t stand each other, get this close? Back in the pack, they were almost hostile. I was always the one stuck in the middle, smoothing things over. He was the disciplined future Alpha. She was the charming social butterfly. Kael was always glaring at her, complaining that she distracted me and pulled me into pointless social drama. While he trained me in combat, Seraphina kept distracting me with one novelty after another. It was like making Kael mad was her favorite hobby. And then it hit me. I had been stupid. That whole “sworn enemies” thing? It wasn’t hate. It was attraction with claws out. That edge between them was never disgust. It was chemistry. I covered my face as tears streamed through my fingers. My communicator buzzed again and again. Some friends who knew about my first-bite plan saw Kael and Seraphina’s photo on HowlNet and immediately messaged me: “What’s going on?” “Weren’t you and Kael supposed to be at the Sacred Grounds? Didn’t Seraphina say she was coming with you? How did the two of them end up chasing the Blood Moon in the Red Sand Desert instead?” “Oh my God. How did your first-bite ceremony turn into their little hunting trip? Elara, and you’re just letting this happen?” What could I do? I forced myself to reply calmly: “What else? They’re going to become mates.” The private channel erupted. Message after message flooded in, each more incredulous than the last. After all, how could a fated bond between childhood sweethearts lose to someone who came out of nowhere? That fairy-tale perfect match burst like foam in the moonlight. I didn’t know the answer.

On the second day of the journey, I finally made myself leave the cave. I slung on my pack, took an old hide map, and set out alone across the Sacred Grounds. I climbed the snowy peaks to watch the legendary golden sunrise spill over the mountains. I still couldn’t get used to Kael not being there. Sometimes I would be walking, and tears would fall before I even realized it. At a windy mountain pass strung with prayer flags, someone rode by on a massive black wolf. He noticed my swollen eyes and stopped in front of me. When I looked up, a white khata was already hanging before my face. I knew what it meant. I had read enough before coming here. It was one of the purest blessings in this land. In broken Common, he said, “Why sad? You are beautiful when crying. Beautiful when smiling too.” “Beautiful lady, why unhappy?” Kael had always known how to comfort me. This stranger clearly didn’t. His bluntness only made me more irritated. So I turned away and kept walking. Behind me, the giant wolf’s paws pressed steadily through the snow. Not too close. Not too far. The words I’d posted in our private channel kept spreading. Eventually, they reached Kael and Seraphina in the Red Sand Desert. That night, they both posted a response. “Not mates. Just friends with the same taste in hunting.” The moment I saw it, my heart steadied. Kael never lied. If he had truly chosen a mate, he would have told the whole pack. I sent the update to my friends at once, almost giddy with relief. Then came the blow. Both posts were visible only to me. It wasn’t a public clarification. It wasn’t an announcement to the pack. It was only meant for me— a quiet message telling me to stop.

Three days later, Kael finally came to the Sacred Grounds. Seraphina came with him. Whenever she saw me, she looked like she wanted to speak. In the end, she stayed silent. The trip grew stifling after that. Only Finn, the Northern wolf, ever broke the silence. Every day, he brought me a white khata. Kael caught him a few times. Every time, he looked annoyed and told him to get lost. He thought Finn was after something. He told me to stay away from him. But Seraphina reacted strongly to the Sacred Grounds’ pure energy, and Kael no longer had time for me. He stayed by her bed, carefully using his own power to steady hers. Watching him, I felt a sharp ache. I had been miserable when I first arrived too. No one had looked after me like that. Finn saw my tears and tried to comfort me in his clumsy way. “Want to ride Blackwind? He is very gentle. When you are done, he will take you back.” This time, I didn’t refuse. I didn’t even complain about how bad he was at comforting people. I rode the giant wolf to Moonlight Lake below the Sacred Mountain. They said the lake was like a mirror, able to reflect a werewolf’s past and present life. Kael and I had been called fated since childhood. All the grown-ups said our bond came from a past life. That was why I had chosen this place: to offer Kael my first bite. Finn didn’t understand the sorrow in my eyes. He only knelt by the lake and scooped water up for Blackwind. Still, he had listened to plenty of my complaints these past few days. He thought for a moment and ran a hand through his windblown black hair. His gaze sharpened. “Call him over and tell him how you feel.” “Wolves have to speak to understand each other. If you keep everything inside, it will make you sick.” I laughed despite myself. Then I lowered my eyes and sent Kael a message.

He took forever to pick up. When he finally did, his voice was a little rough. “Where did you go?” “Can you come to Moonlight Lake? I need to tell you something. Right now.” “Don’t go!” Seraphina’s voice cut through the communicator clearly. Then she took it from him. After all these days, this was the first time we’d spoken again. “Elara, please don’t do this. I really don’t want to hurt you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you’re doing this for my own good?” “You already told him, didn’t you?” Seraphina went quiet for a beat. Then she changed her wording. “We made this decision for your own good.” The second I heard we, my tears broke loose. I shouted so sharply it hurt. “What do you mean, ‘we’?!” “Put Kael on. Now!” The second he took it back, we both started talking. “I’m asking you one last—” “Elara, please stop pushing me—” I stopped cold. Then I hung up. I sat by the lake for a long time. Just letting the wind hit me. When I went back to pack my things, I saw Kael’s lips. They were swollen and red. There was a faint bite mark near his neck too. And then I got it. That was why he wouldn’t come. Kael grabbed my bag. His voice went tight with panic. “Where are you going?”

I told him I was going back to the pack. The portal was opening that night. He froze for a second. Then he let go. He didn’t stop me. But I never went back. I just switched to a different cave and stayed at the Sacred Grounds. I kept exploring. Later, they left the Sacred Grounds. I stayed. Every day, I rode around on Finn’s giant wolf. Seraphina was still posting on HowlNet. Her newest photo was taken under the Blood Moon in the Red Sand Desert. Two people. Same tent. Just their backs. Her caption said: “Stop asking. This is seriously the last one in my camera roll.” And under the photo, in tiny text, was one more line: “You came with me to the Red Sand Desert. The Blood Moon was beautiful. The scars, the sandstorm, the howls… and you. All of it will become part of my awakening.” I swiped past it like I saw nothing. After they got back, Kael put his big-brother act back on. Every day, he pushed me to come home. He asked if I was still upset. He told me to send him my location and kept sending soft messages. “Why don’t you want to come home? Do you hate me now?” “Elara, can you stop being mad? I’m not going to choose Seraphina as my mate.” “I swear. Without your yes, I won’t accept anyone’s first bite.” “Can you at least text me back? I’m worried about you.” I ignored every single one. I stayed quiet until all the newly adult werewolves had to choose which territory they’d serve. That was when I finally showed up in the pack chat. Kael had people asking around about where I was going. I casually said the Northern Territories. Seraphina also asked about my ceremony rating and where I wanted to continue training. I casually said the Southern Desert. One far north. One far south. She came at me angrily. “Are you seriously going to joke with your own future? Just to get back at Kael?” “So he stays guilty forever, throws away his own future, and follows you?” I almost laughed. And just to piss her off, I didn’t deny it. “Wouldn’t that be his own fault?” “He’s the one who swore he’d protect me forever.” Around three in the morning, she sent me another message. “I’m begging you. Don’t ruin Kael.” “His rating is top-tier. He should go to the Royal Capital and become the brightest Alpha there is.” “What happened before was my fault. If you’re angry, take it out on me.” I looked at it once. Then deleted it.

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Back in New York, my first surgery was on a young woman with fibroids. While signing the consent form, she was still whining to her boyfriend on the phone. “It’s literally a minor procedure. Did you really ditch a huge deal and fly back from London for this?” “And stop buying me bags and jewelry. I seriously have no room left.” She handed me the form. My eyes landed on the emergency contact line. Ethan Hayes. Same name as my boyfriend. I smiled politely. “What a coincidence.” She took my hand, looking utterly innocent. “Doctor, are all guys named Ethan this obsessed?” “I swear he did this to me. He’s so clingy. Like… scary levels of energy.” “I just wanted a few quiet days, but he found out and flew back anyway.” I froze, almost saying my Ethan wasn’t like that. My Ethan was composed. Polished. Married to work. An untouchable tech elite with a cold, almost ascetic edge. She held up her phone and showed me her lovesick boyfriend. My heart stopped. On the screen was my boyfriend of three years. Ethan Hayes. Smiling at her like she was his whole world. … But my Ethan was never clingy. Never the lovesick type. Even at our most intimate, he always held something back. Tiffany kept bragging. “Okay, Dr. Reed, consent form’s done. Do you need anything else?” I kept a professional smile. “I still need your allergy history before we can finalize the surgical plan and date.” She tapped her forehead and wrinkled her nose. “Oh no. I left my file at home after my premarital checkup. Looks like the surgery has to wait again.” I looked up and blinked it back. “You’re married? You look barely out of college.” She smiled at me innocently. “Yep. We got married on May 9 last year. It was my birthday.” “You have no idea how scared he was I’d run. I was still at Columbia—hadn’t even graduated yet—and he dragged me to the City Clerk’s office, like I’d marry someone else if he waited another second.” “Back in college, he bought a place right by campus to look after me. He’s so clingy it’s suffocating.” She flicked her wrist, looking mock-annoyed. Under the desk, my hand wouldn’t stop trembling. May 9th. The day my mother died.

I’ll never forget that date. That day, I called him over and over. Just wanted to tell him how shattered I was. How badly I needed him there. Even just one hug. What I got instead was a cold text. “Clara, I’m sorry. The company’s at a critical stage right now. I really can’t get away.” “Don’t worry. Once things calm down, I’ll make time to visit your mom’s grave.” So he wasn’t too busy. He was busy marrying someone else. “Doctor? Dr. Reed?” Tiffany’s voice pulled me out of it. She stood up and gave me an awkward smile. “So… should I go home and get the file?” I stood too. “I’ll come with you.” She blinked. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?” “Not at all. The sooner we do the surgery, the better. Delaying it won’t be good for your health.” We went downstairs together and got into her car. It was a custom-modified Mercedes-Benz G-Class. Luxury everywhere, but with soft, girly touches in every detail. On the drive, she just kept talking. She told me about the Caribbean islands they’d visited, the Michelin-starred restaurants they’d gone to, and the first night they crossed the line… Her smile was sweet. And unbearable. I stared out the window as the city blurred by, thinking about the future Ethan and I used to plan together. Then the car stopped in front of a luxury high-rise. Sutton Tower. One of the most exclusive buildings in New York. We used to say that after we got married, we’d buy the penthouse there. Turns out, before I ever got a wedding, someone else became the lady of the house. The second I stepped inside the apartment, I froze. The interior layout. The design style. Every single detail. It was exactly like the floor plans I had once sent Ethan.

“This place is gorgeous. Did you design it?” I thought maybe we simply had similar taste. She handed me a glass of water and laughed. “Really? Thanks. But Ethan designed it.” “He said he based it entirely on what I like. Guess he knows me pretty well.” “Look, he even added that little ledge next to the toilet so I can put my phone there.” I went still. That ledge was my idea. One winter night, I was curled up in our tiny rental, eating takeout and sketching our future home on my tablet. I pointed at the screen and walked him through every little idea I had. I thought he was listening because he was building our future. Turned out, I designed someone else’s love nest. Tiffany dragged me around to show me her “castle.” Another woman was living in the home I had designed. It felt like swallowing broken glass. On the second floor, a door swung open and a white poodle ran straight into Tiffany’s arms. “My baby!” she squealed, kneeling to pick it up. “Why are you always this excited to see Mommy? You sweet thing.” Then the dog turned. And ran straight at me. Its tail went wild. It rubbed its head against my leg and leapt up at me. My whole body locked up. The fur. The way it moved…

Tiffany walked over, laughing. “Dr. Reed, wow. Casper really likes you.” “At this rate, he likes you more than me.” My throat tightened. “His name is Casper?” “Yeah. He’s five.” She petted his head and said casually, “I’ve only had him for two years, though. Ethan got him from a friend.” “He said he didn’t want me getting lonely at home, so he found a sweet, gentle dog to keep me company.” I let out this awful smile. Of course it felt familiar. My grandmother gave me that dog before she died. I raised him for three years. Then one day he vanished. I thought I had lost him. I cried for a week straight. Ethan held me while I fell apart and said, “Don’t cry, Clara. I’ll always be with you.” He wasn’t lost after all. Ethan had given him away—just a gift to please his new girlfriend. Tiffany pushed open the bedroom door and started looking for her medical records. But my eyes got stuck on something mounted to the wall. A handwritten weekly schedule. It was Ethan’s handwriting. Clean. Sharp. Monday through Sunday, every day was packed with chores. Laundry. Vacuuming. Tidying up. “What is this?” I asked, and my voice shook. Tiffany glanced over and smiled. “Oh, that’s Ethan’s daily checklist.” “I’m kind of a clean freak, and I don’t like strangers in the house, so I have him handle all the chores.” She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes shining with happiness. “And honestly? He’s pretty good at it.” I stood there, a chill running through me.

When Ethan and I lived together, we had a cleaner. Sometimes I couldn’t even stand looking at the mess, so I washed his shirts and socks myself. Now he was happily doing all of it for someone else. “Found it!” Tiffany said, pulling out a file folder and handing it to me. “Doctor, is this the one?” I opened it numbly. Every signature line for spouse or family contact said the same name. Ethan Hayes. I knew his handwriting better than my own. I swallowed the pain in my chest and said evenly, “Yes. This is fine. I’ll let you know the surgery date.” I turned to leave. Tiffany grabbed my arm. “Doctor, don’t rush off.” “It looks like it’s about to rain, and it’s almost dinner time.” “Weirdly enough, I feel like we really clicked. Stay and eat with us.” “Ethan makes an amazing Beef Wellington.” He cooked? We were together for years, and that man barely stepped into a kitchen. Before I could refuse, she had already pushed me onto the couch. Then she called him. Her voice turned instantly soft and spoiled. “Ethan, where are you? Hurry home and cook.” The voice on the other end was familiar. And completely foreign. Gone was the cold distance I knew. In its place was warm, indulgent affection. “My little troublemaker, I was waiting outside the hospital with a thousand roses for you, and you just slipped away without a word.” A thousand roses. In five years, the most he ever sent me was a dozen. On my birthday. And his assistant bought them. Tiffany pouted into the phone. “That’s what you get for wasting money. Just get home. We have a guest, and she’s waiting to taste your famous cooking.” He laughed. A full, open laugh I had never heard in my life. “Okay, okay. Yes, Your Majesty. I’m on my way.”

I sat there on the couch, barely breathing. My nails dug into my palm until the pain turned sharp. A thousand roses. Picking her up at the hospital himself. Calling her little troublemaker. Laughing like that. None of that was ever mine. I couldn’t even picture the Ethan I knew in an apron, standing in a kitchen. I was still trying to come up with an excuse to leave when lightning split the sky outside. A second later came the low roll of thunder. I covered my ears on instinct. But the violent crash I braced for never came. I slowly lowered my hands. Tiffany smiled at me. “Doctor, are you scared of thunder too?” I nodded. It wasn’t fear so much as trauma-driven terror. She pointed proudly at the windows. “You’re fine in this apartment.” “Honestly, even if a bomb went off outside the door, you wouldn’t hear a thing.” “When Ethan found out I’m scared of thunder, he had the whole place upgraded with top-tier soundproofing.” “The thunder barely gets through.” I just stood there. And the way I’d covered my ears seconds earlier felt pathetic. When I was a kid, I survived a major car accident in a thunderstorm. After that, heavy rain and loud thunder always triggered me. I shake, break out in cold sweats, and want to curl into a ball. I told Ethan about it once over text. He just laughed it off. “Come on, Clara. It’s not that bad. You just miss me, don’t you?” “Baby, I’m about to jump into an international meeting. Get some sleep. Goodnight.” That was it. On those stormy nights, I wrapped myself in blankets and shook through it alone. Sweat soaking the pillow. Biting my hand so I wouldn’t cry out. So no, he did believe me. He just didn’t care. Because I wasn’t the one he cared about. Dazed, I reached for the glass on the coffee table. My hand slipped. Water spilled onto a stack of papers nearby. A title flashed across the page. Accident Investigation Report.

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One week before my bonding ceremony with Kane, he left to pick up my best friend, Lyra. They were traveling back to our sacred lands together. While I waited, I was scrolling a private forum for our kind. It was called “Moonshadow Whispers.” A thread popped up: “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve done this year?” The top comment was from my own tribe, Blackrock. “My bestie is about to become our tribe’s Luna. But I started a forbidden affair with her Alpha. It’s an amazing secret to have. I get double the attention, double the rare tributes. The thrill of being the secret favorite is intoxicating. He gave me his secondary sigil, the one representing the tribe’s treasury. My combat skills are nothing special, but I still outrank my ‘best friend’ on the council…” Someone in the comments asked why they didn’t just get together. “Are you kidding me? The entire tribe watched them for eight years. I’m not taking the fall for breaking a sacred bond. I’ll enjoy what we have until the ceremony. That’s more than enough for me.” A soon-to-be Luna. An eight-year relationship. A seat on the council… I tried to convince myself it was all just a horrible coincidence. In response to the doubters, she posted a picture. It was a photo of two hands, intertwined. “See this? He’d just returned from a border patrol. I complained my medicine box was too heavy. Without a second thought, he left his official mate in the freezing snow. Just to come back for me.” The memory of that biting wind hit me. My fingers started to tremble with rage. I zoomed in on the photo, my stomach churning. On their wrists were matching silver cuffs. The laurel pattern was unmistakable. I had forged them myself. She was clearly proud of her little games. “Besides, the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest. I can use his favor to climb the tribe’s ladder for more power, more resources. And powerful males? There are plenty of others out there.” The comments exploded, calling her shameless. Asking how she could do that to her best friend. “Sorry? For what? I’m the one who delivered his courting rune etched on birch bark. I played matchmaker for them in the shadows. She never would’ve landed a pure-blooded Alpha like him without me.” She deleted the picture of their hands. Then she posted a new one. A set of expensive leather armor, forged by a Dwarven master. “See? It’s not like I treat her badly. I just wanted some private time with him before the big day. After all, his days of holding back that final mark are almost over.” The notifications kept popping up. Each one felt like a hammer to the skull. The world started to spin. After our bonding date was announced, Kane moved out. He left the stone house we’d shared for years. His excuse was renovating the Alpha’s nest. And he said he wanted every detail to be perfect for me. Lyra would always tease me about it. She’d say how devoted he was, pouring everything into one woman. I remember them sharing a look then. A knowing, meaningful smile. Then he turned to me, his voice full of warmth. “My Elara deserves the very best.” For the last six months, he barely touched me. He claimed he was saving his primal energy for the ceremony. So our union would be blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. I was so confused that I even confided in Lyra. I asked if our passion was fading after so long. She just laughed and told me not to be silly. She said it was proof of how much he cherished me… So his “saving the final mark”… It wasn’t for me, was it? It was for her. Looking back, I must have looked like such a fool. Just a pawn in a game they played together. Played by the two people I trusted most in the world.

The thirty-minute drive felt like an eternity. The snowy landscape blurred in and out of focus. As their car pulled into view, I took a deep breath. I had to crush the rage boiling inside me. Kane rushed over the second he was out of the car. He wrapped my frozen hands in his, warming them against his skin. Then, he pulled a warm stone pouch wrapped in animal skins from his coat, still radiating heat. “My poor Luna, waiting out in the cold. The wind turned your eyes red.” Behind him, Lyra’s expression faltered at his words. But the moment I looked at her, her eyes were bright with joy again. She stepped forward, tying a handmade fur scarf around my neck. “Sorry, Elara! I promise I won’t dawdle at the market next time.” I smiled and took a step back, avoiding her touch. “It’s fine. Let’s just get back to the tribe.” “Good thing the trading post was still open,” Lyra added. “We almost missed getting Solstice gifts for the elders.” Kane shot her an annoyed look. “Oh, please. You say that every year. You’re better with the elders. Always finding out what they need, stealing my credit. We even bought the same enchanted massage stones this time…” Lyra always seemed so carefree, but she could be incredibly thoughtful. Her parents died in a tribe war years ago. My own mother and father raised her like a daughter. She always said she was my sister. She scoffed, turning back to Kane. “Enough chatter. Don’t let my sister freeze.” Kane put his arm around my waist, pulling me close. He opened the passenger side door for me. I saw the familiar leather armor on the seat. Next to it was a matching warm stone pouch. What truly turned my stomach was the smell. Their scents, tangled together, clinging to him. And the barely-hidden swelling on both of their lips. I snapped back to reality. Lyra was heading for the back seat. My hand shot out, grabbing her arm before she could get in. I needed to switch places with her. “Lyra, I’m tired. The back is bigger. I want to sleep.” She nodded instantly, grabbing a soft fur blanket for me. She even fluffed up a pillow. During the drive, she looked at Kane in the rearview mirror. “So, have you two set an exact time for the bonding ceremony?”

Kane hesitated, his eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. “Whatever Elara wants,” he said softly. I stayed silent, letting the silence hang in the air. The mood in the car instantly turned to ice. Lyra scoffed, breaking the tension. “Always ‘whatever Elara wants.’ If other tribes heard Blackrock’s future Alpha was so whipped, they’d laugh themselves sick.” A frown creased Kane’s forehead. “They already know, don’t they? Thanks to your big mouth, you’re the one leading the tribe in teasing me.” They both laughed, moving on from the topic. Soon, they were swapping stories about the tribe council. My duties were hunting and defense, a world away from their politics. I didn’t know half the names they were throwing around. I used to think their constant bickering meant they clashed. Now, it just sounded like flirting. I could just imagine them, acting like this during council meetings. I was supposed to be promoted to Chief Strategist. My record was spotless—I’d repelled rivals and led successful hunts. I had earned the elders’ highest commendations. But my proposal for new hunting grounds got stalled. “Council procedure,” the head elder had told me, his face full of regret. “Our hands are tied, Elara. We’ll revisit it after the ceremony.” Meanwhile, Lyra joined Kane on a few border patrols. And suddenly she got a promotion for ‘outstanding performance.’ Straight into the tribe’s inner circle. The pieces started clicking into place. Two months ago, I saw scrolls on her table. Urgent plans for resource allocation. The runic script… it was undeniably Kane’s. That was when he started taking ages to answer my messages. Sometimes he’d just disappear for days. I actually felt sorry for him, thinking he was buried in tribe business. He’d hold me and whisper in my ear. “It’s for our bonding ceremony, for our future. It’s all worth it.” The next day, gifts would appear at my stone house. Gowns from Elven weavers, brilliant jewels. He’d arrive with the finalized ceremony plans, an apologetic look on his face. “This is to make up for being away so much, my love. I promise, our ceremony will be the grandest this tribe has ever seen.” All his hard work, all his grand promises. They were never for me. They were for Lyra.

And what a fool I was to believe his flimsy excuses. Kane’s father, the current Alpha, was still in his prime. There was no emergency big enough to keep a future Alpha working overtime. The thought was a cold knife twisting deep in my gut. Then came the white-hot rage of betrayal. Lyra was a wreck after she failed her adulthood trials. I was the one who got her a position on the Council, starting as a scribe. She had sobbed with gratitude. “Elara, what would I do without you!” Her skills were mediocre, at best. Even Kane’s parents, the current Alpha and Luna, had warned me. They said I was misusing my influence. I was exhausted back then, working myself to the bone. After a long day’s hunt, I would teach her for hours. I walked her through every complex scroll and rune. Until, slowly, she earned the council’s approval. And how did she repay me for all of it? My eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut. My parents were waiting at the sacred grounds for the ceremony. I just had to get through this. Then, I’ll settle this score. Maybe a part of me wanted to kill any hope that was left. On a dark impulse, I contacted a Shadow-Walker. He was a master of tracking and stealth. His mission: map out every move Kane and Lyra had made for the last six months.

I opened my eyes just as the car rolled to a stop. The first thing I saw was their hands, clasped together because they thought I was asleep. They snatched them apart the second they saw me. I pretended not to notice. My hands trembled, but I forced them steady and opened the door. I acted completely normal, walking with them towards my parents’ home with the gifts. “You’re back!” My parents met us at the door, their faces breaking into wide smiles. “There’s something we wanted to discuss with you!” My mother took Kane’s hand. “After the ceremony, tradition says you must take Elara to visit the elders of the branch tribes. Your announcement was so rushed, they didn’t really get a chance to meet her.” Lyra shrank into a corner, her face a mask of disappointment. Kane agreed to everything, but his eyes kept darting toward her. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. Only after my mother finished did Lyra manage to crack a smile. “Auntie, I can’t make the Winter Festival feast this year. My long-lost relatives are coming to visit.” My parents just nodded, handing her the generous festival gifts they’d already set aside. That night, Kane lay beside me, tossing and turning. He took my hand. “Elara, the ceremony is so close… I feel this strange panic.” I closed my eyes in the darkness. “Then let’s put it off.” His breath hitched, and his voice became urgent. “No! I meant we should move it up. I want to mark you sooner. I want to make you my true, my one and only Luna…” Those words made me think of the forum posts. I cut him off. “You said you wanted my help managing the tribe’s wealth, right? Then give me the secondary sigil, the one controlling the Alpha’s treasury.” Kane didn’t hesitate. He lit a moonstone, pulled the sigil from his coat, and gave it to me. It was the secondary sigil, alright. But my wolf’s intuition screamed at me. This wasn’t the original sigil he’d inherited from his father. He kissed my forehead. “There. Now I can finally relax…” In the middle of the night, Kane’s communication crystal began to glow. He slipped out of bed and into dark, traveling clothes. The soft click of the door sent my heart plunging into an icy abyss. The resignation letter I’d agonized over all afternoon… I no longer hesitated. I sent it to the Elder Council through our mental link, resigning all my duties. Once he was gone, I grabbed my father’s hornbow and quiver. And I followed him.

Waiting outside a tavern in the neutral zone, just beyond our borders… Was Lyra. Under the dim light, they fell into a tight embrace. The sight was a searing brand on my eyes. I captured the moment on a memory crystal. Then I turned and fled into the night. This was a thousand times more brutal than just reading words online. Out in the snow, a growl finally tore from my throat as tears froze on my face. By the time I stumbled home, dawn was breaking. In the stone refuse pit outside, I found them. The gifts my parents had so carefully picked for Lyra, tossed out with the trash. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. To see their kindness treated like garbage… my heart broke for my parents. It was only then I truly understood. I never really knew Lyra at all. Maybe she hadn’t changed; she had just always been a master of deception. Just then, the anonymous account posted an update. It started with a complaint. “Her parents gave me such flashy, impractical gifts. It’s not even close to what I deserve for all my efforts…” Not even close? Those words sent a chill down my spine. My parents helped repair her stone house every single year. They cleaned for her before every festival, roasted her favorite cuts of meat… They knew she was alone, so they always gave her the best part of the hunt. The most precious herbs. And that was what she called “not even close.”

I watched in disgust as she listed her so-called favors for my parents. “Kane is the one who really treats me right! He gives me the best of everything. It’s just a shame…” The first picture was of her room, piled high with rare goods from him. The second picture showed the secondary sigil. Beside it, a man’s dark silhouette stood by a window. She liked and replied to a comment calling me inferior. “Everyone praises me for my beauty and my free-spirited nature.” “My so-called best friend is just an uptight bore. Kane’s always complaining she’s too intense. She never lets him lead. She’s so desperate for the current Alpha’s approval. Always trying so hard so that his friends won’t look down on her. She never has any time for him…” “It’s pathetic. She insisted on teaching me combat skills. She was worried I couldn’t survive in the tribe on my own.” “But why bother with all that? All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at the Alpha. Honestly, I think she just used me to look like some big-hearted saint.” More and more people joined the conversation. Some even started asking her for advice. She started a private group chat using a mental link, and my burner account got an invite. Someone in the group asked her if she liked Kane or was just using him. “Of course I like him! Why else would I bother breaking up a union blessed by the Moon Goddess?” “But honestly, I’m furious with him since we got back to the sacred grounds. He keeps talking about how he can’t wait for the ceremony, how he truly loves her.” “Then he tells me I’m his exception, his thrill… For once, his honesty is just sickening.” Back on her main account, the comments section exploded with hate. “All of you hating on me are just jealous. A powerful female uses every asset she has. And that includes my own body. Why in the world wouldn’t I?”

Her reasoning was garbage, but she was right about one thing. Even if it wasn’t her, it would have been someone else. Within a day, furious tribe members had her account shut down. But I’d already saved everything. The Shadow-Walker I’d hired was efficient. He sent back memory crystals filled with footage of their trysts. Every night they were on “patrol,” they’d book adjacent rooms and only use one. And Kane, to avoid any suspicion, would call me on our mental link right on schedule. He was a natural-born actor. If I hadn’t seen that forum, I would have walked blindly into that ceremony. But maybe it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly anyway. After all, Lyra had another “surprise” in store for me… I sat in my stone house until dawn, my eyes stinging. That’s when I realized the stress had left me with a burning fever. Kane returned with a feast for breakfast, but I was too weak to even move. He went pale, his face a mask of guilt. “This is all my fault. I kept you out in the snow too long the other day.” He gently wiped sweat from my forehead, fed me bitter herbs… Then he went to the kitchen, skillfully making a nourishing broth. My parents watched, praising him as the perfect partner. My heart just ached with bitterness. He looked utterly exhausted, but his face lit up instantly. The designer had delivered the ceremony invitations, embossed in gold thread. “Elara, you have to get better soon.” He pulled out a recording crystal. “You’ll look so beautiful in your gown. I’m going to capture the whole thing…” I didn’t say a word. I just closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

For the next few days, Kane was gone. He claimed there was urgent tribe business, so he lived in the council hall. I kept my replies short, not asking a single question. The night before the bonding ceremony, we young people gathered for a game. Truth or Dare. When they both lost a round, I asked them the same exact question. “Are there any secrets between you two that I don’t know about?” Lyra’s smile froze. “Of course not! We’re an open book. You know everything about me.” Kane couldn’t look me in the eye. “Nothing from me. You’re my future Luna. My partner for life. Trust is everything.” On the morning of the ceremony, he was nowhere to be found. He missed the sacred rites for our ancestors, leaving all our guests waiting. His message finally came through the link: “My love, there’s an emergency at the border.” My parents told him the tribe came first, then looked at me, words caught in their throats. “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to say…” Just before she deleted her private group, Lyra sent one last message. “Let’s spend one last full moon together, just us.” The days flew by. I never went back to the council. Instead, I booked a caravan pass to the neutral city, leaving that very day. Kane handed me the official invitations. He just assumed I was on leave for ceremony prep. Never once asking why I’d vanished from my duties. Right before the ceremony, I handed a spare gown to Lyra. “Lyra, I have a little surprise planned. I need your help.” At the ceremony site. Lyra ran up to Kane, flustered, dressed in that stunning gown. She held up a communication crystal. “The Alpha and Auntie have both cut me off! I can’t reach them on the link. Where are they?” The color drained from Kane’s face. “That’s the gown I picked for Elara! What are you doing wearing it?” Before he could say another word, the enchanted screen behind the altar flickered to life. It was meant to show our tribe’s history. But instead, it showed Kane and Lyra’s secret life together. A collective gasp went through the crowd. Every werewolf in attendance stared in disbelief. But the final image was the real bombshell. An encrypted medical report from our tribe’s own healer, taken by the Shadow-Walker.

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Ferran Moretti.Don of the Moretti family.My husband. At a Mafia gathering held on the Moretti estate, before the five great families, he ordered me to paint him in bed with his mistress, Nina Lombardi—an intimate portrait of the two of them tangled together. It was the eighteenth time he had paraded a mistress in front of me to provoke a reaction. Everyone expected me to lose my composure. Instead, I finished the painting, my face perfectly still. One of his friends drawled, half-joking, half-mocking: “Ferran, your Donna has nerves of steel. She isn’t even angry.” Ferran scoffed. “She wouldn’t dare.” “The Sheridans are nothing but ash. I paid off her debts. Her mother’s studio, the Rosa estate—they’re all in my name.” “Without me, she is nothing.” I set down my brush and quoted the price, the way I always did. “Custom commission, intimate setting—three million.” Ferran slid a check and a set of divorce papers across the table. “Nina is timid. She’s been with me without a title, without recognition, and she’s felt slighted because of it.” “So we divorce first.” “Don’t worry. Once she settles in, you can stay by my side as my mistress.” The whole room waited, hungry for my collapse. Instead, I picked up the pen and signed. The smile slipped from Ferran’s face. “You’re serious?” I nodded. “I’m serious.” “Ferran, may you and Nina be together forever.” Three years had been long enough for me to gather every shred of intelligence on him. I will never spare you again, Ferran. … Ferran’s fingers rested on the divorce papers for a long while. He looked up at me, as if only now realizing I wasn’t joking. After a moment, he twisted his lips into a sneer. “Fine.” “But remember this: nothing inside Rosa Manor is to leave with you. Not a single item.” “Understood.” I’d never intended to take anything from that house. I knew he hated me. I only wanted what my mother had left behind. For three years, Rosa Manor had been little more than a cage around me. The designer bags, the expensive jewelry, even the title of Donna—they were chains he’d thrown around my neck while calling them gifts. But my calm clearly didn’t satisfy Ferran. He was about to say something else when the Underboss beside him gave a soft laugh. “Ferran, Serafina knows exactly what she’s doing. Whenever Nina threw a tantrum, you softened. Now Serafina’s learned to sign her name and act unbothered—she’s waiting for you to come coax her back.” At those words, whatever complicated emotion had flickered in Ferran’s eyes vanished. He looked down at me, regal and contemptuous. “Sera, isn’t it a bit late to start playing this game?” “Nina is young. When she’s willful, it’s charming.” “You threatening me with divorce only makes you look pathetic.” He caught my chin and forced my face up. “Do you really still think you’re that pampered heiress of the Sheridans?” “The Sheridans turned to ash long ago. Without me, how exactly do you plan to live?” My fists clenched. I swallowed down the fury of hearing my family insulted, and kept my voice level. “I’ll paint.” “Paint?” He laughed as though I’d told a joke. “All of New York knows you’re my woman. After our divorce, who would dare buy a painting from you?” I’d heard variations of this so many times I’d lost count. Ferran hated me for breaking off our engagement when he had nothing. He hated that I’d once said, I don’t want to marry a man who has nothing. So after he rose, after he built his empire, he married me—just so he could grind me into the dirt over and over again. I didn’t want to argue. I simply met his gaze. “I signed.” “Now return my mother’s studio keys, and the deed to the Rosa garden.” Ferran sneered. “You want the keys? Fine. Nina wants a maternity portrait.” “Paint until she’s satisfied. Then I’ll give them back.” The room went still in an instant. Nina, leaning into Ferran’s chest, curled her lips into a delicate smile. “Ferran, don’t be cruel to Sera. She only just signed.” Ferran steadied her, his palm settling protectively at the small of her back. “You’re carrying a child. Don’t worry yourself over things like this.” At the word child, my hand stilled. Ferran caught it. He let out a low laugh. “Surprised?” “Nina isn’t like you. She can give me a family.” “You—you’re just a useless thing.” He led Nina to the main sofa and lifted his chin toward me. “Paint.” The servants brightened the lamps. Nina nestled against Ferran’s side, one hand on her belly, a small smile at her mouth. And I stood at the easel and, numbly, captured every inch of their intimacy. Someone snickered. “The ex-wife paints the future wife, and a maternity portrait at that. Don, you’ve won this round in spectacular fashion.” “If I were Serafina, I couldn’t hold the brush steady.” I might as well have been deaf. Then Ferran had a servant bring out a canvas draped in white cloth. The moment they pulled the cloth away, my pupils contracted. It was my mother Rosa’s portrait. Her final self-portrait, painted before her death. Ferran held out a palette knife to me, his tone light, careless. “Nina likes the composition of this piece.” “Change the face to hers.” The room fell utterly silent. Then someone laughed under their breath. “Don, this is crueler than a divorce.” “Making Serafina paint over her own mother with Nina’s face—that’s something else.” Nina nibbled her lower lip. “Ferran, don’t. Sera will hate me.” Ferran tilted his head and smoothed her hair. “She wouldn’t dare.” His eyes turned on me, cold as winter. “Serafina. When you finish, the keys are yours.” I looked at my mother’s gentle face in the painting, and something thick lodged in my throat. It was the last piece of her I had. And Ferran intended me to destroy it with my own hand. I drew a long breath and took the palette knife. Stroke by stroke, I scraped away her eyes, the bridge of her nose, the corners of her mouth. Soon, her face was buried under white paint. Then I painted Nina over her. When I finished, I set down the brush. “Mr. Moretti. Are you satisfied?” Ferran stared at me, something furious and unreadable churning behind his eyes. A few seconds passed. He took a manila envelope from his assistant’s hand and hurled it at me. The corner scraped my cheek before falling to the floor. The keys and documents inside scattered across the marble. “Take them and get out.” His voice had gone heavy with ice. “Let’s see what kind of price a woman cast out of the Moretti family can fetch for herself, without me.” I knelt and gathered the papers one by one, then turned for the door. Behind me, Ferran’s voice rang out again. “Serafina Sheridan.” “Walk out that door today, and even if you come crawling back on your knees, I won’t take you.” I smiled, faintly. “I won’t.” This time, I wouldn’t look back. I left with the studio that had been my mother’s. I left the cage that had held me for three years.

I returned to Rosa Manor. In the small studio at the end of the second-floor corridor, my mother’s belongings still waited. Studio was a generous word. It was really just the storage room Ferran hadn’t bothered claiming. After the wedding, the estate my mother had left me was seized by him. For three years, in either Moretti Manor or my mother’s Rosa Manor, I hadn’t had so much as a bedroom of my own. The master suite was Ferran’s—the same suite where he brought Nina home, again and again, and ordered me to paint them. He’d humiliated me in the very places my mother had left to me. I pushed open the door. By the bed sat a painting whose paint was still drying. Ferran, half-undressed, with Nina in his arms. She was curled against him, the corners of her eyes still flushed pink. That session, halfway through, she had melted boneless into his embrace. “Ferran, my back aches.” He’d bent his head to massage her. “Sitting too long? Or wore yourself out earlier?” Nina had glanced at me, blushing. “Sera’s still here.” I’d mixed paint behind the easel, my expression unchanged. She hadn’t been willing to let me go. “Sera used to be a prodigy, didn’t she? All those awards. Your parents must have been so proud.” Ferran’s face had twisted with disdain. “The Sheridans worship money. They sent her to study art so they could sell her off at a higher price when the time came.” “Now that she can’t get a cent out of any of it, they must be turning in their graves.” I’d nearly spoken then. I’d nearly told him that when the Moretti family was on the verge of collapse, it wasn’t his poverty that drove me away. That I had sold my own paintings, leveraged every scrap of Sheridan intelligence, mortgaged my mother’s studio—and funneled it all into his family, anonymously. That the cruel things I said were because I was terrified the Sheridan debts would drag him under. But Ferran would never believe me. In his eyes, I was filthy. Greedy. Deserving of every cruelty. There was one thing, though, that he’d been right about. I had failed my mother. After the Sheridan family was ambushed, our enemies hunting us day and night, the Morettis’ cash flow also broke. I sold my paintings in secret. I paid down both families’ debts. I hid the true strength of mine, and I sent the money to him with no name attached. When my mother discovered what I’d done, she was heartsick. She was already ill. The worry deepened, and within a year, she was gone. So when Ferran later rose to power and asked to marry me, I felt more shame than joy. My mother had died because of me. What right did I have to be happy? But I never imagined that he had married me only to punish me. I dug through the corner and pulled out an old suitcase. Inside were my mother’s well-worn sketchbooks, and an iron tin. The tin held mementos from when Ferran and I were young. The first time he secured outside investment, he’d written me a note. Sera, when I have money, I’ll build you the biggest studio in the world. I’ll make sure you only ever paint what you love. Back then I had believed our love was unbreakable. That was why, when the Sheridan family collapsed, I’d been willing to leave under a cloud of slander rather than drag him down with me. But now—I tossed the note into the ashtray. I watched it shrivel to nothing, then shut the suitcase and went downstairs. Outside, it had begun to rain. I had just reached the front door when two of the bodyguards stepped in front of me. “Donna. The Don gave instructions. Nothing inside Rosa Manor is to leave with you.” “What’s in this case belongs to me.” Behind me, Nina’s voice rose like silk. “Sera, if it’s only your own things, surely a quick check won’t hurt?” I turned. She had changed into a loose white dress, with Ferran’s coat draped over her shoulders, standing at the top of the stairs. Ferran stood beside her. “The studio keys and the deed—I gave those to you myself.” “Anything else in there belongs to me.” His expression was cold, his eyes scrutinizing me without mercy. “Whether or not it’s yours, we’ll see when we check.” I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle. “Ferran. Do you really need to take it this far?” His gaze hardened. His voice was a quiet command. “Open it.”

I clutched the handle of the case, my knuckles whitening one by one. “Ferran. There’s nothing from Rosa Manor inside.” He stepped closer. There was no warmth in his eyes. “Serafina. How much of what you say is still worth believing?” “You once swore you’d never leave me. And what happened then? When I was ruined, you ran faster than anyone.” I didn’t explain. Ferran didn’t want my explanations. He flicked a look at the bodyguards. The next second, the suitcase was wrenched from my hand and slammed onto the floor. The zipper tore open. Clothes, brushes, document folders spilled out. I reached instinctively for my mother’s sketchbook, but a bodyguard blocked my arm. The little book, with its grey-blue cover, rolled to a stop at Nina’s feet. She bent, picked it up, flipped through a page or two—and her eyes lit. “Ferran, these are beautiful. Could I have it?” The color drained from my face. I lunged forward and shoved her back. “Don’t touch it!” Nina jerked, as if frightened. Her fingers trembled. The sketchbook tumbled, thunk, into the rainwater outside the doorway. A buzzing filled my head. Inside that book were the last sketches my mother had ever made. I rushed forward to grab it. But Nina’s heel came down first—pressed firmly onto the cover. I looked up at her. Her eyes were full of venom, even as she affected innocence. “Sera, don’t look at me like that. You’re scaring me.” Ferran was at her side in an instant, sweeping her behind him. “It’s just a worthless book.” “I’ll replace it.” “Ferran. You can’t.” His face darkened. “Serafina. Don’t push your luck.” I didn’t look at him again. I bent down and reached for the sketchbook. The moment my fingers touched the cover, Nina let out a small cry and stumbled backward. “Ferran, she pushed me—” Before she finished, Ferran’s eyes had gone cold. He seized my wrist with a grip that felt as if it would crush bone. “Serafina. Are you done losing your mind?” I winced, but didn’t let go of the soaked book. “Let go.” He didn’t. He yanked. I lost my footing. My shoulder slammed into the glass cabinet beside the door. The cabinet shattered. Glass exploded across the floor. Instinctively, I caught myself with my right hand. Pain detonated from my wrist outward. Blood pulsed down my arm. The world went silent. The anger froze on Ferran’s face. He stared at my right hand, at the blood dripping between my fingers, vivid and red. For the first time, panic flickered behind his eyes. He moved to speak. I only looked at him. “Ferran. Are you satisfied now?”

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Ten years into our marriage, I was making the bed when I found a photograph tucked beneath my Alpha’s pillow. In the picture, he was cradling a pup with eyes identical to his own, one hand laced with the fingers of a woman whose face glowed with tenderness. That woman was his first love, the she-wolf Vanessa Sinclair. Photograph in hand, I drove straight to Damien’s company. But when I reached the door of his office, I heard tangled, breathless sighs drifting through the door. Vanessa was straddling Damien’s lap, arms looped around his neck, voice soft and coaxing. “I’m pregnant again. When are you going to throw out that worthless human bitch at home and make me your Luna?” It felt as though I’d been dropped into an icy pit, and the words he’d once said to me echoed in my ears. “I hate children.” That was why, in ten years of marriage, I had been pregnant three times—and each time, I had been forced to abort. I am human. Carrying an Alpha’s child is no easy thing, and every termination drained me to the bone. After the third procedure, the doctor told me my uterine wall had grown dangerously thin. The next surgery, he warned, could bring catastrophic bleeding. I begged Damien. I pleaded with him to let me bear the child and hand it over to my parents to raise. But he answered me with cold detachment. “If you keep it, we divorce.” And now, watching him stroke the woman in his arms with such doting affection, I heard him say: “Since you’re carrying it, then have it.” At last I understood. Damien didn’t hate children. He hated my children. I closed the door without a sound. Then I booked a flight out of the country for that very night. …….. I clutched the photograph and stumbled out of the building like a ghost. The downpour drenched me through and through. I saw Damien’s assistant shielding a small boy in a raincoat as they hurried toward the entrance. “Slow down, sir—careful, don’t slip.” The little boy turned, lifted his face into a beaming smile, and chirped in a sweet child’s voice. “I’m not scared of falling. I can’t wait to see Daddy and Mommy!” I stared at that face—an exact copy of Damien’s—and my breath froze in my throat. My hand drifted instinctively to my stomach. When I discovered the third pregnancy, the baby had already been five months along. The Pack Healer had performed a detailed prenatal scan, and on it I had seen a face whose brow and eyes were almost identical to Damien’s. Carrying the scan home, I had begged Damien on bended knee to let me keep the child. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the picture. He’d simply moved his things to the study. After that, we hadn’t spoken for half a month. I couldn’t bear the silent cruelty of his indifference. I scheduled the abortion. At last he was satisfied. The first words he spoke to me in two weeks were: “Good girl. I don’t like children.” I looked at the boy now. He had to be about five years old. And the fully formed child I had lost—that had been three years ago. So all along, the reason he refused my children was simple. He already had a child with his first love. Tears blurred my vision. I bit my lower lip until it bled, fighting down the urge to wail aloud. A moment later, Damien came out carrying the child. There was nowhere for me to hide. Through the curtain of rain, our eyes met. The boy frowned and shook the umbrella in his small hand. “Daddy, why is that lady standing in the rain?” “Can I give her my umbrella? She looks so sad.” I said nothing. I caught the warning in Damien’s eyes and stayed exactly where I stood. He had the assistant bring me an umbrella, then ushered the boy into the car. Vanessa appeared, schoolbag in hand. She took in the wretched sight of me and laughed in delight. Faintly, I heard Damien’s tender voice. “Liam, people who stand foolishly in a storm usually aren’t right in the head.” “They snap easily. From now on, if you see her, walk around her. She might hurt you.” The car rolled slowly past me, throwing up a spray of muddy water. Through the window, I saw Damien and Vanessa fingers intertwined while the little boy built blocks beside them in excitement. My phone vibrated. A message from Damien. “Go home first. I’ll explain everything.”

I scrolled through our messages. For half a year now, every message in the thread had been sent by me. “Dami, I made your favorite beef stew tonight. Coming home for dinner?” No reply. “Dami, I slipped on the stairs and sprained my ankle. Could you pick up some medicine on the way back?” Still no reply. With trembling fingers, I selected every message between us. And deleted them all with a single tap. At the same moment, a red dot bloomed beside a new contact—Vanessa. I hadn’t accepted her request, but as though pulled by some unseen hand, I tapped into her Instagram. Picture after picture of a blissful family of three. The day I lost my first child, Vanessa had posted a selfie, flashing a peace sign. In the corner, a trash can overflowed with empty cigarette packs. “We’re getting ready ~ my Alpha quit smoking. He promises to be the best daddy.” The day of my second miscarriage, there was a photo of Vanessa lying weakly in Damien’s arms, holding a wrinkled newborn pup. “Welcome to the world, my little one. My Alpha cried harder than I did during labor.” I traced the red rims of Damien’s eyes in the photo, and suddenly I remembered the trip we’d taken years ago to negotiate with another wolf family. There had been a sudden car crash. Without hesitation, I’d thrown my body over Damien’s. He had been untouched. A length of rebar had pierced clean through my chest. Damien had clutched my hand, his eyes anxious—yet still, somehow, distant. Even at the edge of death, he had called me by my full name. “Scarlett Rosewood, stay awake.” I had told myself he was simply cold by nature, unable to love, and I would warm him through. But the truth was, I had never set foot inside his heart. I couldn’t tell anymore whether what ran down my face was rain or tears. I only wanted to flag a cab and disappear. But I was soaked to the bone. Taxi after taxi refused to take me. So I walked. Tears slid down my cheeks. I slipped the wedding band off my ring finger and tossed it into a hedge. By the time I reached the house, there were just three hours until my flight. I shook my dizzy head, braced myself against the wall, and punched in the door code. The electronic lock buzzed, then released a piercing alert. “Incorrect password.” The next moment, the door swung open from inside. Vanessa looked me up and down with a provocative smirk, then offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I happened to mention that I couldn’t remember the password, and Dami just went ahead and changed it to my birthday.” I stood frozen in the doorway, staring as the household staff packed up and threw out the furniture and decor I had chosen with my own hands.

Damien took one look at my drenched, bedraggled state and frowned in displeasure. “I just had the living room cleaned. And now you’ve gone and dirtied it again.” My heart turned to ice. The tears I had only just managed to stop spilled over again. A gust of cold rain slipped in through the open door, and Vanessa sneezed. A flash of tender concern crossed Damien’s face. He immediately stripped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Why haven’t you closed the door? What if Nessa catches a chill?” Numbly, I shut the door. Each step sent needle-sharp pain through the soles of my feet, blood seeping out with every footfall. Damien didn’t spare me a single glance. He instructed the staff to start a pot of beef broth. He guided Vanessa carefully into a chair, as if she were made of porcelain. She laughed coquettishly and pushed his hand away. “I’m not that fragile.” Then, as if only just noticing the blood on the floor, she gasped and covered her mouth. “Dami, Scarlett’s feet are torn up. Hurry, have someone bring the first aid kit.” At last the man’s gaze fell on my mangled feet. His brow furrowed. Just as I was bracing myself to refuse his help, certain he was about to call for the medicine box— He swept Vanessa into his arms with an expression of disgust and snapped at the staff. “Bring the alcohol! Disinfect everything.” The maid hurried over and poured alcohol all across the floor I had walked. It splashed into the wounds on my feet, burning like a thousand ants gnawing at the bone. The look Damien gave me was the look one gave a pathogen—as if he wanted nothing more than to throw me out at once. After a moment of thought, that was exactly what he did. “Housekeeper. Pack a few of Scarlett’s things and send her to a hotel.” Vanessa nestled smugly into Damien’s chest, fingers brushing her faintly swollen belly. “Sorry, Scarlett. He’s just worried you might carry germs that could harm the baby.” “You’ll have to put up with moving out for now.” I lifted my eyes. The home I had once known was now unrecognizable. Our wedding photo, once hung proudly on the wall, lay shattered in the trash. The custom fridge magnets I’d made from our pictures were strewn across the floor. Even the flowers I had planted on the balcony had been uprooted by someone’s hand. To make Vanessa feel comfortable, Damien had personally erased every trace of me—he’d even switched out the scent diffuser to mask my smell. I stared at the childish couple’s mugs on the dining table. It felt as though an invisible hand was crushing my heart, squeezing the breath out of me. After I’d induced labor at five months, I had hired a specialist to fashion my child’s ashes into a small silver crescent-moon amulet. I had wanted to keep it with me always, as though my baby had never left. I had hung it on my bedpost that night, and for the first time in a long while, I’d slept well. But when I opened my eyes, the amulet was gone. I had torn the room apart looking for it, finding nothing. Damien had emerged from the study and said, with casual indifference: “It was just a childish little trinket. I tossed it. It was an eyesore.” He had found my child’s ashes childish, an eyesore, and thrown them away without a word. And now—now he was using childish matching mugs with Vanessa, childish couple’s stickers… I curled my lips in a bitter smile and met Damien’s frigid gaze. “No need to trouble the housekeeper. I’ll pack my things myself.” “I’ll disappear soon enough. You won’t have to see me again.” I hurried upstairs, wanting only to grab my documents and the keepsakes my mother had left me and flee this loveless house. But as I rounded the corner, the sound of glass shattering rang from the bedroom.

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The day my mother became critically ill, my Alpha husband, Ronan Blackthorn, refused to lend me even a single dollar. He said coldly, “The pack already has enough projects draining its funds. Try the black-market lenders. Figure it out yourself.” Then he lifted the phone back to his ear. His voice softened immediately. “The five million in seed money is already in your account. Consider it a trial run. If you lose it, you lose it.” On the other end of the call was Selene Vale, a young Omega who had recently joined his investment firm. I gripped the medical bill so tightly that my nails dug into my palm. I didn’t cry. I didn’t argue. And I didn’t beg him again. He nodded in satisfaction. “You’re my Luna. You should know how to control your emotions. Stop acting like a helpless pup and expecting everyone else to clean up after you.” I gave a quiet hum and said nothing.Maybe it was time to end our mate bond. He still did not know that I was carrying his pup. By the time we finally severed our mate bond, the once-untouchable Alpha was on his knees before me, his eyes red as he begged, “Evelyn, please don’t do this. My wolf is going feral without you.” … It was nearly one in the morning when Ronan returned to the estate. I sat in the living room with the medical center’s invoice and my mother’s critical-condition notice spread out before me. Beside them lay the petition to dissolve our mate bond, already bearing my signature. He frowned when he saw me. “Why are you still awake?” His calm expression dragged me back to that afternoon, when I had begged him to save my mother. He had refused to pay for the treatment that could keep her alive, then turned around and wired Selene five million dollars. I had thought I was already numb. But seeing him come home as though nothing had happened still sent a silver needle straight through my chest. Ronan’s gaze fell on the table. “What is all this?” “A petition to dissolve our mate bond.” He stopped moving. A few seconds later, he looked as though he had heard an absurd joke. “Evelyn, What are you pulling this time?” I pushed the papers toward him. “I’ve already signed them.” He did not pick them up. He merely stared down at the words as his expression slowly hardened. Alpha authority edged his voice. “Because I refused to lend you money?” “No.” My voice was quiet. “Because today I finally realized that it isn’t that you have no money or that you refuse to help people. You simply refuse to help me.” Ronan’s face darkened. “I reviewed Selene’s proposal. It is a pack investment, not a personal favor. If it succeeds, it will generate substantial returns for the pack.” I looked at him. “The money came from your private account. You personally guaranteed it, and you agreed to absorb every loss. You call that a pack investment?” Six years ago, the first time Ronan caught my scent, his wolf had roared one word inside him: Mate. I was the fated mate chosen for him by the Moon Goddess. We had once believed the bond between fated mates was strong enough to withstand any betrayal. Only later did I understand that the Moon Goddess could arrange for two wolves to meet, but she could not force either of them to cherish what fate had given them. Now he had almost no patience left for me. “You went through my things?” I gave a faint laugh. His first instinct was not to explain. It was to blame me for discovering the truth. Ronan set his glass down hard on the table. “Evelyn, you’re emotional right now. I’m not discussing this with you.” “I understand that you’re under pressure because of your mother, but you don’t get to take your anger out on me.” I looked at him. “She is your family too.” Ronan looked away. “I never said I would do nothing.” “I simply don’t believe we should keep pouring money into a treatment plan with no foreseeable result.” As though realizing how cruel that sounded, he added, “I can help you contact better werewolf physicians and ask around for healing resources.” “But you will have to find the money yourself.” Ronan had not become the youngest Alpha in Nightfall Pack history because he was merciful. No matter who stood before him, he judged only results and value. Every decision was as precise as a business transaction. The pack praised him for his rationality. But he had not always treated me this way. Once, he had listened patiently to every word I said. If I so much as frowned, he would immediately ask what was wrong. I had believed I was the one exception to all his rules. Now even my mother’s life had become, in his words, a loss “not worth further investment.” I forced down the nausea twisting in my stomach, rose, and slipped the petition into its folder. “Be at the council hall at ten tomorrow morning. We’ll begin the bond-dissolution process.” Ronan stared at me for a long moment, clearly taking none of it seriously. “Evelyn, once you leave me, how will you pay for your mother’s treatment?” My fingers clenched the instant the words left his mouth. He knew exactly what terrified me most. He also knew exactly what I needed. So he was using it to force me to bow my head. I met his gaze. “I’ll find a way.” My answer seemed to offend him. His face grew colder. “Then you had better not come crawling back to me.” I knew he thought I was bluffing again. During past arguments, I had threatened to leave many times, but our mate bond had never truly been severed. This time was different. I turned and walked back to the bedroom. Before closing the door, I heard him answer a call in the living room. As if afraid I might overhear, he lowered his voice, but he could not hide the tenderness in it. “Selene, I reviewed the materials.” “Don’t be nervous. I’ll attend tomorrow’s pack pitch with you.” I closed the door and slowly sank against it. A dull ache pulsed low in my abdomen. I had been so consumed by my mother’s condition that I had not gone back for my follow-up appointment. A reminder from the medical center still waited on my communicator: [Ms. Evelyn Hart, you are seven weeks pregnant with a pup. Please attend your scheduled fetal-vitality examination.] I stared at the message for a long time before silently darkening the screen.

Ronan did not appear at the council hall the next day. I waited for him for two hours. I called him repeatedly, but he never answered. At eleven thirty, he finally sent a message. [Selene is presenting her project today. I can’t leave.] Another message appeared immediately afterward. [If you truly want to dissolve the bond, file a petition with the Werewolf Tribunal.] I stood outside the council hall with my appointment number still in my hand. The winter wind swept up the stone steps, stinging my eyes. I did not reply. I went straight to the medical center. The physician told me my mother’s condition was critical. Because yesterday’s bill had not been paid in time, several expensive healing medications had been suspended, leaving them no choice but to continue with the basic treatment plan. “Her family should settle the balance as soon as possible.” “The longer this goes on, the weaker her wolf spirit will become, and the greater the risk.” I quietly said I understood. I listed the studio apartment I had bought before the mating for sale and dropped the price almost as low as it could go so it would sell quickly. The real-estate agent fell silent for several seconds after hearing my price. “Ms. Hart, this is far below market value.” “Can it sell today?” “Yes, but are you absolutely sure?” “I’m sure.” After ending the call, I crouched in the stairwell of the medical center, my palms slick with cold sweat. A social-media notification appeared on my communicator. Selene had posted an update. In the photograph, she stood on the presentation stage in a white suit, the silver-moon emblem of Nightfall Pack pinned to her chest. Ronan sat in the front row, his gaze fixed directly on her. In his eyes was a patience I had not seen in a very long time. Her caption read: [Starting my first company, and someone is already willing to catch me if I fall. So this is what it feels like to be chosen without hesitation.] Someone commented: [I’m so jealous! Your Alpha spoils you!] Selene replied: [Not at all. He only wanted to help because I’m here on my own.] My fingertips trembled as I stared at the words. That afternoon, Ronan came to the medical center. He stood in the corridor in an immaculate black suit, holding a file. “My assistant compiled a list of lenders.” “You’re a Luna, after all. If you appeal to them, one of them might lend you enough to cover the immediate costs.” “And stop talking about dissolving our mate bond whenever you’re angry. You are the fated mate the Moon Goddess chose for me.” Yes. Even though I was his fated mate, he still would not spend a single dollar to save my mother. How absurd. I stared at the file without taking it. He shoved it into my hands. “What you do about the money is your decision.” Then he turned and left. I looked down at the loan documents, tore them apart one page at a time, and dropped them into the trash. A few minutes later, a nurse hurried toward me. “Luna, Ms. Maeve’s blood pressure has suddenly dropped. The physician needs you to come sign the consent forms.” My knees buckled, and I caught myself against the wall. The pain in my lower abdomen returned, sharper than it had been the night before. I was in terrible condition, and my pup was becoming increasingly unstable too.

My mother’s resuscitation lasted four hours. When the attending physician came out, he said, “We have stabilized your mother for now, but there can be no further interruption in her treatment.” I nodded, my throat too dry to produce a sound. The sale contract for my apartment was signed that same evening. Because I had priced it for an urgent sale, the buyer had barely hesitated. The moment I received the deposit, I went straight to the medical center to pay the bill. The woman at the payment desk glanced at me. “Are you her only family member here?” “Yes,” I answered. “Where is your mate?” I did not respond. In that moment, humiliation washed over me. I had an Alpha mate, yet I looked like a lone wolf with no family protection at all. I had even overheard people whispering about me. “She must be the most pitiful Luna in the pack. Her Alpha husband won’t even come to the medical center with her.” “Exactly. She looks like she might be carrying a pup too. A she-wolf is at her most vulnerable then.” … That evening, I returned to the estate to collect my documents. The moment I opened the door, a woman’s bright laughter drifted from the living room. Selene sat on the sofa with a celebration cake in front of her. Ronan was cutting it for her. The moment she saw me, Selene stood. “Luna, you’re back.” Her tone was sweet and obedient, while the moonstone-and-diamond necklace around her throat glittered beneath the lights. I recognized it. On my birthday the previous month, I had fallen in love with that necklace the moment I saw it in the jeweler’s display. Ronan had said at the time, “The brand markup is ridiculous. It’s impractical and doesn’t suit you.” Now it hung around Selene’s neck. Ronan frowned at me. “Why are you back?” I looked at him. “This is my home. Why shouldn’t I be here?” Selene’s expression stiffened. Ronan set down the cake knife, his voice devoid of emotion. “Selene’s presentation went well today. I brought her back to pick up some documents.” “We decided to celebrate while we were here.” While they were here? My mother was still lying in the medical center with tubes running through her body. I had sold the only property I owned to raise money, while he celebrated another young Omega in our home. Selene lowered her head, her voice gentle. “Luna, please don’t misunderstand. Alpha only thought it was brave of me to start a business that could generate income for the pack, so he bought a cake to encourage me.” As she spoke, she touched the necklace at her throat. “This was a team reward too. It isn’t what you think.” I glanced at the cake box on the table. Written across it were the words: [Congratulations on a brilliant first victory, Selene. Your future is limitless.] Ronan had written them himself. He had once called even a birthday cake for me a waste of money and said gestures like that were meaningless. I had argued with him then, and the fight had ended, as always, with me giving in. This time, I still said nothing. I simply returned to the bedroom, opened a drawer, and began gathering my documents. Ronan followed me in. “Who are you putting on this attitude for now?” I slipped our mate-registration certificate into my bag. “Move.” He blocked the doorway. “Evelyn, you’re becoming more unreasonable by the day.” “Selene is much younger than you. She only recently completed her first shift, and she came to Nightfall territory alone as an Omega.” “I am her Alpha and her employer. What is wrong with looking after her a little?” I looked up at him. “My mother is lying alone in intensive care. Have you ever looked after her?” For a moment, he had no answer. Then his expression hardened again. “Your mother’s situation is different.” “How?” “Selene is still young. With support, she can have a bright future. Your mother’s illness cannot be cured.” The room went completely silent. Regret flickered through Ronan’s eyes, and his tone finally softened. “Evelyn, that isn’t what I meant.” He pulled me into his arms. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate it when you look at me that way.” “What I mean is that investments have to be judged by their returns. Your mother’s medical bills could become a bottomless pit…” It felt as though someone had carved my heart from my chest. I pushed him away. Looking at the calm composure on his face, I could only find it ridiculous. In the end, my mother’s life was something he could measure by its value. And dismiss as unnecessary. I picked up my bag and walked past him. … In the living room, Selene was eating cake with a fork. When she saw me, she seemed to summon her courage before speaking softly. “Luna, you should learn to be more independent too. You can’t expect your Alpha to solve everything for you.” Ronan stood behind me and made no attempt to stop her. The approval in his eyes was unmistakable. I looked at Selene and suddenly smiled. “Did he teach you to say that?” The smile at the corner of her mouth froze. I smiled again. “Then remember it well. One day, when he decides you no longer offer a worthwhile return, he’ll say the same thing to you.” Selene’s eyes immediately reddened with grievance. Ronan spoke coldly. “Enough, Evelyn. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t target her.” I did not turn around. As I went downstairs, a sudden dragging pain seized my lower abdomen. I caught the railing weakly. Ronan frowned. “What’s wrong with your stomach?” As though a thought had struck him, joy flashed in his eyes. “Are you carrying my—” “No,” I cut him off. Since I had already decided to end our bond, there was no reason for him to know I was carrying his pup. Ronan’s expression returned to normal. “As Luna, I expect you to give me a pup soon. The pack needs an Alpha heir.” The ringing of my communicator interrupted him. It was the medical center. “Luna, your mother’s condition has deteriorated again. You need to return immediately.” My vision went black, and I nearly collapsed inside the elevator.

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Every pack knew me as the perfect mate. I gave Ezra Sylvan six years. I stayed quiet and swallowed it all while he slept around. That day, in his den at Alpha’s Peak, I caught a scent that wasn’t mine—wild roses and desire. He wasn’t even sorry I caught him. Just leaned back against the stone wall and smirked. “Be a good girl. Go chase off that wild little bitch.” His Betas and inner circle were already betting on how long I’d last this time. Ezra, chin in hand, said, “She’s tame. Give her two days, and she’ll drop it.” He expected me to crawl back and beg. Just like always. But Ezra didn’t know: when noble females come of age, we send our souls out to seek our true mate, just as the old laws require. So while he sat there full of himself, I found the courage to ask the suitor my family had chosen for me: “If our pups must carry the Obsidian Moon name and bloodline, can you accept that?” … I showed up at Ezra’s den. The guards blocked the entrance. They told me the Alpha was “resting.” I stepped back against the cold stone wall, a heavy scroll in my arms— the latest trade map I’d drawn for the two packs. It dug into my shoulders. After a long while, the stone doors finally opened. Ezra stood there half-naked. Water on his chest. A pelt loose around his waist. Ezra leaned against the doorframe, his golden eyes narrowing. “Why not wait until the next full moon?” I held the scroll tighter and looked up. “Sorry. The border wards acted up. It delayed me.” Ezra stepped aside to let me in. He scoffed. “Does your little paperwork put meat on the table? Just quit already.” I slipped inside before the heavy doors shut. Then the scent hit me. I froze. Ezra’s den was a massive cavern. A long dark hallway led to the main chamber. I turned the corner. A silk dress lay torn to shreds on the fur rug. And scattered everywhere… lace lingerie that smelled of roses.

I always knew Ezra was wild, never truly mine in all six of those years. I told myself I could live with it, as long as I didn’t see it or breathe it in. So I avoided the traces of his intimacy with other she-wolves. Trained myself to forget and move on. When I looked up, he leaned against the liquor cabinet with a glass of bourbon in hand, the hot spring splashing behind him. No panic in his eyes. Not a shred of guilt. “You’re late.” He gave a lazy shrug. His voice was dead calm. I clutched the scroll tighter. If I let go, it would hit the floor with weeks of work inside it. I parted my lips to speak— The hot spring doors hissed open.

A shapely she-wolf strolled out, Ezra’s bathrobe hanging loosely off her shoulders. She barely reacted when she saw me, as if my presence meant nothing. “Alpha—” In a syrupy voice, she pressed herself to Ezra’s chest. “About that hunting territory you promised me…” Ezra gave a slight shift, peeling her off. He took a sip of his bourbon. “Go see my Beta. We’re done here.” The female flashed a blinding smile. “Thank you, my Alpha!” She reappeared fully dressed moments later. I watched her go. Selene—the latest favorite among the younger wolves. She reached the door. I stepped aside. Maybe she wanted to please Ezra. She paused, looked me over, and smirked over her shoulder. “Great taste, Alpha. You picked the ultimate obedient little Luna. A century ago, her bloodline would’ve been prized for bearing strong heirs.” Ezra didn’t even glance my way. He didn’t shut her down. Just let out an annoyed sigh. “Get out.” She grabbed her bag and strutted out.

Ezra got dressed, walked over, and took the scroll from my hands as if nothing had happened. He hooked an arm around my waist. “Hungry? What prey do you want tonight? I’ll hunt it down myself.” I didn’t move. He arched an eyebrow, like something had just occurred to him. He flashed a lazy smile, his fingers circling my hip. “Mad? You want me? I’ll have the guards prep another hot spring on the Moonlight Terrace—” None of this was new. I’d always known. I knew he slept around. I knew he was wild. But I walked into his territory anyway. I played the fool. I was the one who gave him the power to hurt me. So I couldn’t blame anyone. I didn’t hate anyone. Not even Ezra. I always knew we would end one day. But I kept holding on. Just a little longer. Now the end was finally here. And to my surprise, all I felt was relief. Maybe my heart had already gone numb. I pulled Ezra’s hand away. Took the scroll back without looking up. “Ezra.” “I am breaking our mating bond.”

The words hung in the air. The den went dead silent. I looked up at Ezra. He studied me as if weighing whether I was joking. Then he let out a low chuckle. “Break the mating bond?” He bent down. My reflection looked tiny in his golden eyes. “Cressida.” He clicked his tongue, as if thinking. “How old were you when you first saw me? Sixteen? Seventeen?” He shook his head. “I forget. Back then, obedience was the only thing you had going for you. You hid behind your brother Dorian like a scared little rabbit.” “I asked if you wanted to come with me.” He straightened up. He adjusted his cuffs. “You blushed. You nodded. You didn’t even hesitate.” “I also told you I’m a born conqueror. I don’t force females to stay. And they can’t force me to belong to just one.” He let out a sigh. He looked at me with a trace of pity. “What did you say back then? You said you were willing.” “And now you’re threatening to break the bond.” He brushed a tear from my cheek. He tilted his head. “Isn’t that a bit unfair to me?” “Alright. Enough crying. You’ve handled this just fine all these years. Today was my mistake. Next time, I won’t get caught.” He dug his fingers into my shoulders and turned me toward the massive obsidian mirror, where his smug face stood beside my tear-soaked one. “Know how old that little bitch was? Twenty. And you’re what… twenty-six this year? Stop using cheap tricks to keep me around. Spend your time waking up your Moon Goddess powers instead…” “After all, our bloodlines are the best match. Those other girls are just passing flings. They don’t matter.”

He had always been this awful. But his Alpha aura and beautiful face hid it so well that even words like these could sound like love. All the fight drained out of me. I felt like a puppet on invisible strings, with Ezra holding the ends. I slipped out of his grip. My voice was dead calm. “Ezra. We’re done.” He gave a lazy smile. “Fine. Break it.” He glanced at the heavy iron clock on the wall, grabbed his coat, and crushed his mouth against mine. “Be a good girl. Wash that foreign scent off. I’ve got an Alpha Council meeting.” “I’ll have the new moonstones and imported silks delivered to your room.” “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Properly.” Maybe we had used the words “break the bond” too many times. They had lost all weight. In the beginning, Ezra used it first. He weaponized those words long before I did. “Cressida. If you can’t handle this, the door is right there.” “You know I hate seeing you miserable.” I used to be easy to soothe. A smile and a few soft words were enough. But not this time. I made a vow to myself. No caving in. No backing down. Besides. Breaking an unblessed mating bond didn’t require his consent.

Emotional wounds cut fast and deep. A brutal fever hit me after I left Ezra’s den. My wolf’s energy was falling out of balance. I sank into a fever dream. I saw my sixteen-year-old self. The girl Ezra had already erased from his mind. Ezra Sylvan. A born Alpha. He didn’t need an elite bloodline. His power and charm alone were enough to make females flock to him. And to top it off, he was the undisputed leader of the apex pack. He had a type—wild and stunning. He slept with everyone from foreign envoys to his own frontline warriors. No one thought he’d ever look twice at a “good girl” like me. I had nothing to offer but obedience. But he had already had every kind of female he wanted. At the height of his power, he was bored. And then his eyes landed on me. Shadows stretched across the border valley the first time I saw him. He was flirting with Liana, the undisputed beauty of the packs. Liana wanted to become a movie star. Ezra pulled the strings to make it happen. As Liana clung to him and begged for his attention, I happened to glance up. Ezra’s face was unreadable. Thick smoke curled from the cigar between his knuckles. He looked bored. Then he jerked his chin in my direction. He cut her right off. “Who is that?”

Liana stiffened. She stepped into his line of sight. “Her? Just the little good girl from the Obsidian Moon Pack. She doesn’t run with our kind.” I ducked my head. I hurried past them. Ezra just flashed a lazy smirk. He didn’t say a word. Growing up, I was the easiest child to raise. My mom raised me alone. Her love came buried under layers of suffocating rules. Curfews by midnight. Hair no longer than my shoulders. Skirts down to the ankles. Under her suffocating care, I grew into exactly what she wanted—obedient in every way. Rigid. Docile. I followed every single pack law to the letter. I thought I’d live my entire life strictly by the book. Until Ezra reached out his hand. That hand was temptation itself. And like a fool, I took it.

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My sister Serafina secretly met Aidan, the Future Alpha. She always took me with her to cover for them. Then word leaked. Queen Luna’s guards raided the glade and caught only me. The Queen ordered a forced mating. “Your bond already runs deep. Why hide?” I was forced to become Aidan’s Mate. Aidan blamed me for losing Serafina. He turned cruelly cold. Even during the mating ceremony, he pinned my wrists and forced me to admit I was my sister’s replacement. I opened my eyes. It was the day Serafina invited me to the Moonlight Glade. I buried my face in the furs and muttered, “I’m not going.” … Serafina froze. “Why not?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I already promised him we would come.” “Him” meant Aidan. In public, the Future Alpha was cold and distant. Nobody suspected a thing. He had been secretly meeting a Beta female for months. I was the Omega serving as their shield. Aidan talked to my sister. I counted leaves. He shifted to show off his wolf. I stood watch at the edge of the glade. Mother always asked about our absences. Serafina squeezed my palm. She lied with a straight face. “Ayla gets restless inside the territory. I took her out for fresh air.” She knew her place, and valued her reputation as the Future Alpha’s mate candidate above all. That was why, during that secret meeting on the Sacred Mountain— A sudden rainstorm hit. Queen Luna’s guards came looking for Aidan. She ran off into the rain without looking back. Left me all alone. I scrambled after her. My heart hammered. The mossy stone steps were slick with rain. My foot slipped. Aidan snatched my arm. “Careful.” A huge leaf umbrella appeared above us. Queen Luna’s most trusted elder stood underneath it. He glared down at us. “Found him.” “The Future Alpha’s secret lover is the second daughter of House Mooncrest.” Aidan’s face hardened. He dropped my hand. What a cruel mistake. One mistake turned the man who should have been my brother-in-law into my Alpha. In the long years that followed. Losing the mate he wanted made Aidan cruel and paranoid. Every forced mating was torture. Tears streamed down my face. He forced me to cry out Serafina’s name. Only then would he stroke my wet hair and bury his face in my neck, his voice hoarse with cruel possessiveness. “Good.” “My Mate’s sister.” The entire Pack thought the Future Alpha had fallen for his Omega at first sight. They thought he was fiercely possessive of her. Nobody knew the pure hell I endured behind closed doors. The memories made me shudder. The shame of living as her shadow nearly consumed me. I pulled the furs over my face. “I’m sick.” “I can’t go.”

Serafina reached out. She pressed her palm to my forehead. My skin burned. It wasn’t a fake fever. “Alright.” “I’ll stay here. Let me fetch the Pack healer.” My chest tightened. “Are you… skipping your meeting with him?” She let out a soft sigh. “I can’t go alone. Not without you.” Exactly. Serafina guarded her reputation above all else. She would never risk meeting the Future Alpha alone. I rolled over and closed my eyes. From this day on, whatever was between her and Aidan had nothing to do with me. My sickness dragged on for days. Spring rain fell relentlessly outside. Serafina lost her excuse to leave the estate. She sat on the porch, polishing her hunting bow and plucking the string in irritation. Mother guessed as much. She assumed Serafina caught a different sickness. Mating fever. “Do you know who your sister fancies?” Mother trimmed moonflowers by the hearth with a silver dagger. She watched me through the rising smoke. Nothing slipped past her. But I lied anyway. “I have no idea.” Mother smiled faintly. “I heard the Future Alpha chose his Mate. He meets her in secret. He covers his tracks well. Queen Luna sent trackers, but they found nothing.” “Why hide?” She sighed. “Her rank matches his. If she holds his favor, a Mating Ceremony is certain. I’m getting old. I’ll never understand young females.” I bit my lip. I didn’t know either. Serafina was always proud and reserved. What she had with Aidan felt more like politics than romance. They discussed the Pack’s future. They drew territorial borders. Aidan occasionally mentioned me and joked that I was a restless wildcat. Serafina never mentioned a Mating Ceremony. But the day I was forced to mate with Aidan changed everything. She wept openly. She glared at him with pure hatred. “You actually chose her.” “Ayla is my precious sister. You better treat her right.” Aidan couldn’t look at her. He stared at me through the ceremonial veil. He muttered a low, “I will.” She really was heartbroken that day. Mother kept talking. “The Future Alpha needs an official Mate. Queen Luna decided to grant his wish. She will expose his lover at the Full Moon Assembly. She will announce their mating.” In my past life, the Queen caught me before this assembly ever happened. But she never knew she caught the wrong girl. That single mistake ruined everything. Serafina died mateless. Aidan broke my spirit for good. Mother studied my face. “I thought it would do you good to socialize. But since your sister’s heart is taken, I will decline the invitation for her.” She turned to leave. I chased after her. I spoke fast. “Don’t decline it for her.” She looked back, and understanding flashed across her face. I took a deep breath. “Decline it for me.” She froze. “You?” She probably didn’t understand. They were in love. Their story had already started. Why hide? I didn’t care anymore. In this life, I would never cross paths with Aidan again.

The truth hit me when the assembly invitation arrived. Mother’s words were just a trap to test my sister’s heart. Queen Luna wanted to hunt down the secret lover. She gave no one the chance to decline. Moonlight washed over the sacred lake. Sky and water blurred into one. This was my first time seeing Aidan in this life. He wore silver-white Pack robes, his dark hair tied back with a leather cord. His eyes were cold and distant. Nobody could have guessed. Losing the woman he loved had turned him cruel and paranoid. Serafina crushed my hand. Sweat slicked her palm. “They say the Queen already knows about Aidan.” “Will she think I’m… shameless?” I shook my head. “No. Queen Luna is generous. She won’t look down on you for this.” She let out a long breath, but her face stayed tense. Aidan brought someone with him. A man in a dark green warrior tunic leaned against an ancient tree. He was striking, but lazily indifferent to the bustling assembly. He straightened when he caught my eye and adjusted his perfectly neat collar. Serafina didn’t recognize him. “Who is he?” Aidan kept his voice flat. “My cousin, Sentinel Captain Kael.” “You guard your reputation. We need a witness when we meet.” “In case anything happens…” Serafina managed a tight smile. “You are so careful.” “Ayla covered for us all this time. We never made a single mistake.” An ice-cold gaze fell on me. “No mistakes?” Aidan let out a soft laugh, with rare mockery. “You have a pure heart. You have no idea how deep a wolf’s ambition runs.” The blood drained from my face. He was reborn too. In our past life, Aidan humiliated me countless times. He never believed my fall on the stairs was an accident. “Isn’t that exactly what you are?” His fingertips brushed my ear and cheek before stopping at the corner of my eye. “You used to stare at me with those wet eyes right in front of your sister. A calculated seduction…” “And now you can’t even stand admitting you’re her replacement. Ha.” No matter how hard I sobbed, he just covered my eyes. His voice dropped to a rough growl. “Too late.” Those vile memories rippled through my mind. My head spun. I could barely breathe. Serafina missed the hidden meaning. “Aidan, what are you talking about?” I pulled my hand free, lowered my eyes and rushed out. “The Queen is about to announce it. Don’t worry anymore. I’m going for a walk.” She frowned. “Hey—” I bolted. She never got the chance to grab my sleeve.

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When I was seven months pregnant, I noticed Smith had a new female friend. They talked about everything, sharing an incredible, unspoken understanding. Every day, Smith would buy two bouquets of roses—one for me, and one for her. But there was never anything overtly out of line. Until that woman asked him, “If you had met me first, would you have married me?” Smith didn’t answer. Instead, he smoked on the balcony all night. Smith was completely distracted today. He looked like he was about to say something several times, but then he’d swallow the words. Finally, I spoke up, “Is something wrong?” Smith sighed, “I need to go on a business trip, to the next city over. I’ll be back tomorrow. But I can’t leave you alone! Forget it, I’ll send someone else!” As he spoke, I watched him, seeing how earnestly he tried to convince me. He met my gaze directly, not flinching. He asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” I told him, “You should go.” “What about you, all alone?” “I’ll have my mom come stay with me.” Ever since I got pregnant, Smith had been incredibly attentive. Especially as my belly grew, he was always worried about me being home alone. He canceled many social engagements just to be with me. “What if something happens and no one’s around? “I’ll be worried sick if I’m out anyway, so it’s better if I just don’t go.” Even if he absolutely had to go out, he’d at least wait for my mom to arrive, giving her countless instructions to take good care of me. It got to the point where my mom would laugh, “She’s my own daughter! Do you think I’d let anything happen to her?” But today, he only hesitated for two seconds before nodding. “Alright then, take care of yourself. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Call me if anything happens!” He left in a hurry, only grabbing a change of clothes before rushing out the door. I sat still, not moving. Even when he turned back to look at me, I smiled and waved. After the door closed, I still didn’t move, but the rigid posture I’d held relaxed. Smith was acting strangely. Everything about him was off. But I didn’t say a single extra word, nor did I ask a single extra question. Because I knew where he was going and who he was going to see. At first, I didn’t know the woman’s name. I only knew her last name was Clement, and Smith called her Ms. Clement. The first time I saw her was a year ago, before I was pregnant. I was waiting for Smith at a new coffee shop downstairs from his office. I hadn’t told him I was coming, planning to call him around lunchtime. But then he suddenly walked in. The receptionist, who had been lounging lazily, straightened up. Smith nodded to her, and she smiled, giving him an OK sign. It was an unspoken understanding. I’ve always found that kind of unspoken understanding between a man and a woman terrifying. It makes them both mistakenly believe they’re destined to be together. But at that time, the strange feeling only flickered in my mind, and I didn’t think much of it. Later, Smith saw me and looked surprised. He asked what I was doing there. I said, “Waiting for you to have lunch.” “Why didn’t you call me?” “I didn’t want to disturb your work!” I asked him, “Why did you come down?” He rubbed his temples, sighing, “Work stuff, it’s really annoying. Just came down to walk around and grab a coffee. Their cookies here are pretty good, you should try some.” As he spoke, he raised his hand, “Ms. Clement, another order of cookies, please!” Meeting the woman’s questioning gaze, he smiled and introduced me, “My wife!” They were both completely at ease that day. Smith introduced me naturally. Clement greeted me openly, even comping our order. Smith said the coffee here was authentic and quite good the one time he tried it, so his company’s afternoon tea was now ordered from this place. That’s how they got to know each other. Back then, I thought they were just a simple shop owner and customer. I didn’t know that those delicious cookies weren’t actually for sale at their shop. Nor did I know that Clement would text Smith, asking him: “If you had met me first, would you have married me?”

Smith texted me at ten o’clock that night. He said he had just finished working and arrived at his hotel. He said he was too tired to video call me today. He told me to take care of myself and call him if anything happened. I replied to each message, telling him not to worry, that I was fine. I asked the coffee shop barista, “Where’s Ms. Clement? She’s not here?” The barista, a simple and good-hearted guy, saw my familiar tone and smiled. “She went out, just left! It’s her birthday today, so she must be on a date with her boyfriend. She was carrying a huge bouquet of roses, so romantic!” I nodded, got my coffee to go, and left. This city is huge; finding two people is incredibly difficult. But Smith had bought me a smartwatch with call functions. I’d slipped it into his laptop bag before he left. He bought it for me when I was four months pregnant. I’m the kind of person who gets really severe morning sickness. Up until my fourth month of pregnancy, my weight was decreasing, not increasing. I didn’t know I was already anemic, nor did I know I would faint in a mall due to poor ventilation. Smith was terrified. His hands were still trembling when I woke up. That watch was for monitoring my health and tracking my real-time location. It was expensive, so its GPS accuracy was extremely high. Just like now, it had been at a hotel on the twelfth floor for three hours. I didn’t rush over that night. My due date was only twenty-three days away, and I still had to prioritize myself. I threw out the coffee, drank some milk, and lay on the soft bed, listening to white noise for sleep. But even so, I couldn’t sleep, just like that night over a month ago. That was the first time I snooped through Smith’s phone, because he was so agitated. He cut his hand while peeling an apple for me. He dropped and broke a glass while pouring me water. He slammed his foot into the chair in front of him, his face dark. His outburst made me scream. He apologized, saying he was upset about something at work, that he didn’t mean it. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, I found his side of the bed cold and empty. Smith had smoked on the balcony all night. With a sinking heart, I unlocked his phone. The chat interface hadn’t been exited. The person saved as ‘Clement’ had sent a message that afternoon. “If you had met me first, would you have married me?” Smith hadn’t replied. Not a single word. But that night, my heart died right there, in his phone.

I arrived at the hotel at 6 AM, with my marriage certificate and ID. I placed everything on the service desk. “Smith is my husband. I need to know which room he booked. If you can’t tell me, I’ll call the police.” I didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone. I was exhausted, physically and mentally drained! The front desk person stared for a long time, their expression shifting from surprise to hesitation, then to pity. “Please wait a moment, I’ll check for you right away!” They quickly gave me the room number and asked if I needed any help. I smiled, shook my head, gently stroked my swollen belly, and went upstairs. Smith didn’t make me wait long. I had only been standing outside the door for less than forty minutes when it opened. Smith stood there, gripping the doorknob. Behind him, a slender pair of arms wrapped around his waist. “Smith, thank you for this night. I’ll remember it forever…” Forever what? Her words were cut short as Smith frantically pushed her away. He saw me and hurried towards me. But I tilted my head, looking past him. Clement sat on the floor, her fiery red slip dress unable to conceal her pale legs. She stared blankly at Smith’s back, her eyes filled with sadness and hurt. “Julian!” Smith’s voice trembled when he called my name. Mine too. My hands, clasped behind my back, wouldn’t stop shaking. I thought I was mentally prepared and could handle this calmly. But in that moment, I found it hard to even stand upright. “Where’s the car?” “Underground parking.” “Let’s go!” I braced myself against the wall and turned first. Smith tried to help me. I growled, “Don’t touch me!” His hand flinched and froze, then he followed close beside me. Clement caught up with us at that moment. “Ms. Julian, you really don’t have to act this way. There’s nothing dirty going on between Smith and me!” Her tone was neither humble nor arrogant, her face full of stubbornness. Almost the instant her words fell, I slapped her. “Smack!” “Ah!” Clement screamed, “How dare you hit me?” She raised her hand protectively, wanting to touch Smith’s visibly reddened face. Smith turned away, dodging her touch. He looked at me pleadingly, “Julian, let’s go home!” Clement clenched her fists, glaring at me fiercely. “Ms. Julian, if you have a problem, direct it at me. How dare you hit Smith?” “Stop talking,” Smith ordered. Clement looked at Smith, disbelieving, “I’m helping you!” “Shut up!” Smith snapped. He didn’t spare Clement a single glance, keeping his eyes fixed on me, and spoke again. “Julian, let’s go home!”

“Julian, I can explain.” “Yesterday was Clement’s birthday. She doesn’t have any friends here, so she just wanted me to spend some time with her.” “I just celebrated her birthday with her, nothing else happened.” “It was wrong of me to lie to you, and I apologize.” “I was just afraid you’d be angry, afraid you’d overthink things!” “I was wrong. If you mind, I won’t see her again.” “She’s just a friend.” “Julian, please don’t ignore me. Say something, okay? “Don’t scare me!” Since we got home, Smith had said a lot. Explanations, apologies, self-reproach. I wanted to speak, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I couldn’t utter a single word. I didn’t know where to start, or what to say. Finally, I managed to say, one word at a time, “Smith, let’s get a divorce.” My words made Smith tremble violently. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, it was as if he had suppressed his furious emotions. “Nothing really happened between her and me. We just had some drinks and talked.” “Julian, please don’t be like this, okay? I know you’re angry, I was wrong, I messed up, I’ll accept any punishment.” “But you have to believe me, I didn’t do anything to betray you!” What exactly did he consider “betraying me”? “You must have hugged, you probably kissed. You smell of her perfume. And here…” I pointed to his lips, “a bite mark!” Smith flinched, his lips tightening. I looked at him in despair. “How much further do we need to go? Catching you red-handed in bed? You were in a room together, all night. How am I supposed to believe you?” “Smith, how can I believe you?” Smith slumped his head in defeat. He knelt on one knee before me, wanting to touch me but not daring to. “Julian, I was wrong! I was foolish, I lost my head, but I swear, nothing more happened.” “I’m begging you, for the sake of all these years we’ve been together, for the sake of our child who’s about to be born, please give me one more chance.” How laughable. He knew about our years of shared history, he knew our child was coming. Yet he still did all this, and he still hoped I would forgive him for their sake. Layer upon layer of emotions, memory after memory, each one tearing me apart. I looked around frantically, then my gaze fell on my own belly. Tears fell uncontrollably, and my sobs sounded like a trapped animal. Smith protectively reached for me, “Julian, what’s wrong?” His voice was like a match, instantly igniting me. I finally burst into loud sobs. “I want a divorce! I want a divorce from you!”

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