Aria's POV

When I returned from the garage to our bedroom, Stephen still hadn't come back.

I remained on the sofa, motionless and composed, pretending I had not moved all evening, as though I had done nothing except sit there quietly and wait for my husband to return to the life he had already begun betraying.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

The detective had sent over a file titled Belinda White.

I opened it at once.

Belinda White was exactly what she appeared to be on the surface-a girl from nowhere special, with no pedigree, no power, no real protection. She had studied nursing at a community college, but dropped out before finishing, choosing instead to work as a jewelry sales assistant in order to escape a household built on ruin: two addict parents and an unemployed older brother who spent whatever little money came into the house on gambling.

It should have made me feel something close to pity.

It did not.

I kept reading.

She had met Stephen at a jewelry exhibition. According to the report, his pursuit had been swift, attentive, and impossible for a girl like her to resist. The gifts had come first, then the flowers, then the carefully timed concern, the kind of tenderness Stephen knew how to perform so well that women mistook it for devotion. Belinda had agreed to date him almost immediately.

There was a note beneath that section.

She may have noticed the pale indentation on his ring finger, the faint mark left by a wedding band recently removed. If she did, she chose not to ask. Instead, the report suggested, she had searched his name online, along with information about his wife.

So she knew.

Maybe not everything. Maybe not the whole truth. But enough.

I was still scrolling when I heard footsteps outside the room, light but familiar, and I shut my phone at once.

Emma entered a second later, carrying a mug with both hands.

"Luna Aria," she said gently, "please drink this while it's warm. Alpha said it was made especially for you."

I took the mug without hesitation, my fingers steady around the porcelain.

"It's still too hot," I said. "I'll drink it later."

Her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "But you should drink it."

"I will," I promised.

Emma lingered for half a second longer, then nodded and left.

The moment the door closed behind her, I rose, carried the mug into the bathroom, and poured every drop into the toilet. The amber liquid disappeared in a slow swirl before I pressed the handle and watched it vanish.

Anything prepared by Stephen now made my stomach turn.

But tomorrow, I told myself, tomorrow I would be gone.

That thought was warm enough to carry me into sleep.

I woke sometime before dawn to the weight of an arm draped over my waist.

For one disoriented second, I did not move.

Then the scent reached me.

I knew it instantly. Belinda White wore it every time I saw her in the store, the perfume lingering in the air long after she stepped away from the counter, as if she needed even her absence to ask for attention.

My body went cold.

Stephen was lying beside me, his chest pressed to my back, his arm wrapped around me with the easy possession of a man who thought he still had every right to touch me, claim me, and sleep in my bed after carrying another woman's scent home on his skin.

When he felt me stir, he tightened his hold instead of releasing me.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

I turned sharply, ready to face him, the words already gathering on my tongue.

"You shouldn't-"

Before I could finish, he shifted over me, one hand braced beside my head as he pinned me into the mattress with a smile that was too lazy, too intimate, too sure of itself.

"Shouldn't what?" he asked softly. "Or were you awake all this time because you wanted me to come to bed?"

His mouth crashed down on mine before I could answer.

I shoved against his chest. "Let go of me."

He lifted his head just enough to look down at me, desire still clouding his eyes. "What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, my phone began to ring.

I grabbed it at once. "It's me. Are you here already? Good. I'm coming down."

Then I pushed past Stephen and got out of bed.

His expression darkened immediately. There was no warmth in it now, only irritation, suspicion, and the first hint of something uglier.

"Who's calling you this early?" he asked. "That sounded like a man."

I pulled on my jacket without looking at him. "It's late enough for you to be getting ready for work, isn't it?"

"Don't you remember?" He stood and moved toward me again. "I told Enzo to clear my schedule for a few days. I'm staying home with you."

"I don't need you here."

The coldness in my voice should have been enough. It wasn't.

Stephen closed the distance between us and slid his arms around my waist from behind, pressing a trail of soft kisses along my neck as if tenderness could erase disgust, as if persistence could rewrite the truth.

"How are we supposed to have a puppy," he murmured against my skin, "if you keep pushing me away?"

For one terrible second, I could not breathe.

I tore his hands off me and shoved him away. "Let go of me!"

He laughed, low and careless, mistaking fury for flirtation, resistance for another form of surrender.

Then he caught my chin and kissed me again.

"I'm not letting you go."

"Stop." My voice came out sharper this time, stripped of everything except command. "I said stop."

Something in my expression must finally have reached him, because Stephen paused.

His arms loosened. His brows drew together. For the first time that morning, confusion flickered across his face.

"Aria," he said slowly, "what's wrong with you?"

I turned away before he could study me any longer and straightened my clothes with hands that I refused to let shake.

"Nothing," I said. "The delivery driver I called is downstairs. I don't want to keep him waiting."

When I went down, Emma had already invited the man into the living room.

He stood the moment he saw me, holding a clipboard awkwardly against his chest. "Are you Aria Graves? The one who booked the pickup?"

"Yes." I nodded toward the staircase. "Come upstairs with me."

I led him to the bedroom.

Stephen was standing in the doorway by then, arms folded across his chest, every trace of sleep gone from his face. His gaze landed on the delivery driver first, then shifted to me, sharp and unreadable.

"Who let you in?" he said coldly. "Get out."

The delivery driver faltered at once and looked at me. "Mrs. Graves..."

"I brought him in," I said before Stephen could speak again.

Then I walked to the closet, opened the doors wide, and pointed at the stacked boxes inside.

"Those," I said. "Can you weigh them for me?"

For a moment, the room went completely still.

Stephen's eyes moved from the nearly emptied closet to the sealed boxes on the floor, and something in his face changed so abruptly that even the air seemed to tighten around us.

"Aria," he said, his voice lower now, more dangerous for how controlled it was, "where are your clothes?"

I pointed to the boxes without answering.

His stare sharpened. "Why are you packing?"

Still I said nothing.

That was when he crossed the room in two steps, caught my shoulders in both hands, and forced me to face him.

"Are you leaving?" he demanded, all the smoothness gone now, replaced by something rawer, harsher. "Where are you going, Aria?"

Aria's POV

I lifted my eyes to the man I had loved for seven years.

My smile looked calm, but it never reached my eyes.

I had already decided to leave. I just needed the right moment.

By now, I could read Stephen easily.

His goal was clear.

He wanted everything, a perfect Luna beside him for status and power, and a younger woman to satisfy his excitement.

He really thought he could live this double life as long as no one found out.

But he underestimated a woman's intuition.

He had been careful, maybe too careful, but after seven years together, there were signs he could not hide.

A look or a small change in his voice was enough. Those clues led me straight to her, to Belinda.

Since Stephen had the nerve to fall for someone else and still expected me to protect his pride,

I would make sure he saw exactly what that mistake would cost him.

"Answer me! Why are you packing all your clothes into these boxes?" Stephen's voice rose, his hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to hurt.

I gasped, and he quickly loosened his hold.

His eyes locked on mine, demanding an answer.

I gave a small laugh. "These clothes are out of season, and I don't like them anymore. I'm donating them and buying new ones. What's wrong? Having second thoughts? Yesterday you said I could buy whatever I wanted."

Stephen blinked, caught off guard. "So... these are just for donation?"

I nodded. "Throwing them away would be wasteful. Donating gives them a second life."

He exhaled in relief. "You scared me. I thought you were leaving me."

I smiled faintly. "You haven't done anything that would make me leave. Have you?"

"Of course not. We're too good together for you to leave me."

The delivery driver standing nearby tried not to laugh. His mood brightened. "If you ask me, Mrs. Graves, your husband really loves you. You're a lucky woman. Loyal men like him are rare these days."

Stephen pulled me close again, his arm tight around my waist. "Hear that? Men like me are rare. You should treasure me."

I stepped out of his hold.

"Where's my phone? I need to pay him," I said, my tone cold.

After breakfast, Stephen went to his study for a video meeting.

I put on my jacket and walked out.

At a private gym, I ran until sweat drenched my tank top and my heartbeat echoed like a drum in my ears.

Each step felt like a release, a way for my wolf to burn off the anger clawing inside me. The air smelled faintly of metal and salt, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the rhythm of my breath and the pounding of my feet.

By noon, I finally slowed down, muscles trembling but my mind a little clearer.

I grabbed a taxi outside, planning to get lunch and maybe a few minutes of peace.

The peace didn't last.

The car jolted to a violent stop.

I was thrown forward, hitting the seat in front of me hard enough to knock the breath out of my chest.

The driver cursed under his breath.

"What the hell? Why are they hugging in the middle of the road?" he snapped, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

I looked up and saw a couple standing not far ahead.

The man bent down to pick something up and handed it to the woman. She covered her face, emotional, then threw her arms around him right there in traffic.

Behind them, several cars screeched to a stop.

A man stepped out of a black sedan, shouting, "Hey! Take your love story somewhere else! You're blocking the road and could get someone killed!"

The man with one arm around the woman raised his free hand in apology. "Sorry! My girlfriend dropped her bracelet. I was just helping her pick it up."

That man was Stephen.

"Even so, you can't just walk into traffic!" another driver snapped. "If you got hit, who would take the blame? And what about everyone you're holding up?"

Stephen stayed calm, his voice steady. "I'm sorry, everyone. If anyone's car was damaged, I'll pay for it. Send your details to my assistant, and I'll give you triple the amount."

Money still worked miracles.

As soon as he said triple, most of the angry drivers backed off, muttering but no longer shouting.

Beta Enzo hurried around collecting names and numbers, and within minutes, traffic started moving again.

The taxi driver looked at me in the mirror, hesitant. "Ma'am, mind if I wait a second? I'll just leave my number and be right back. Won't take long."

He was clearly tempted by the promise of extra cash.

I said calmly, "This ride costs about thirty dollars. Triple that's a hundred. I'll give you a thousand if you just keep driving."

His eyes widened.

"Deal!" He hit the gas immediately, grinning.

Money talks, after all.

I rubbed my temples as a dull ache formed behind my eyes.

"That woman's lucky," the driver said. "She's got a boyfriend who'd risk his life just to grab her bracelet. Unreal."

I didn't reply.

He went on, shaking his head. "But if he's that rich, why not just buy her a new one? Running into traffic like that? Crazy."

I pulled out my phone and dialed. The call connected almost instantly.

"Aria?"

"Stephen, where are you?"

"At the office. Why?"

Through the rearview mirror, I saw him clearly.

Stephen was only a few cars away, holding Belinda's hand while talking to me on the phone.

The irony was almost painful.

Belinda looked like she wanted to speak, but Stephen lifted a hand to silence her. Then he pressed a finger to his lips.

"Aria, do you want me to bring you some pastries from Sugar Nest?" he asked smoothly. "You used to love their tiramisu."

"I'm fine," I said.

"You sure? I thought you still liked it."

"People change," I replied. "Maybe I liked it before, but not anymore."

Stephen's voice softened. "Aria, is something wrong? You sound off."

Lily growled inside me, begging me to confront him, to tear through his lies right now. But I stayed silent. This wasn't the right moment.

"I'm fine," I said quietly. "Go back to work. Goodbye."

Aria's POV

That evening, Stephen came home carrying a single cupcake in a white paper box.

I was sitting cross-legged on the living-room floor, old photo albums scattered around me like pieces of a broken timeline.

We'd known each other so long that our college memories alone filled four thick albums.

Seeing the photos, Stephen's expression softened.

He stepped behind me, his arm sliding easily around my waist. "Why are you looking through our old pictures?"

"Why are you home so early?" I countered.

He chuckled under his breath. "I missed you, so I left work early."

I carefully stacked the albums and slipped them into a cardboard box.

The lighter hidden in my palm felt heavy, almost guilty, before I slid it into my jeans pocket.

I'd assumed he would be with Belinda and had planned to burn everything while he was gone. Now, he'd completely ruined my plan.

"Sweetheart, why do I get the feeling you're not happy I came home early?" he asked, his wolf senses already catching the tension in my body.

I stood up, moving out of reach. "Work should come first."

Stephen followed right behind me and wouldn't give me space. "No, you're always my first priority," he said.

He leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Darling, you've been distant lately. Did I do something wrong?"

The intimacy that once felt tender now made my skin crawl.

The arms around my waist had likely just been around another woman; the lips trying to kiss me had probably kissed someone else hours ago.

Just imagining it made Lily growl inside me, and my stomach twisted.

I shoved Stephen away and bolted for the bathroom, barely reaching the sink before I threw up.

He followed, handing me tissues and rubbing my back.

His brow furrowed with concern that looked painfully real. "Why are you suddenly sick? Food poisoning? Emma!"

Emma rushed in. "Yes, Luna Aria?"

"What did she eat this afternoon? Was the food fresh? Her stomach is sensitive. That's why I hired you. Why is she throwing up now?"

Emma blinked, startled. "Luna Aria wasn't home for lunch, Alpha. She went out. Maybe it's something she ate while she was out?"

Stephen's jaw tightened; his voice dropped low. "Outside food isn't clean, and pre-packaged meals are full of chemicals. If you're hungry, tell Emma what you want and she'll make it here. Why eat out?"

Already dizzy from vomiting, his lecture hit me like ice water.

"Jesus, Stephen. Am I supposed to be locked up in this house? Don't I have the right to go out?"

"I'm just trying to protect you," he said sharply. "I worry when you're out alone. You know what? From now on, I'll go with you."

I scoffed. "And when would you have time for that?"

What was he?

A man who thought he could run a company and his pack, cheat, and still pretend to be the perfect mate?

Stephen looked at me for a long moment and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a tissue. "What are you talking about? Of course I have time if you need me. After all these years, don't you know how much I care about you?"

I had learned a lot about him, just not what he wanted me to believe.

Suddenly, Emma gasped, clapping her hands together. "Luna Aria has been emotional lately, and now she's vomiting... could she be pregnant?"

Stephen looked startled. "Aria, are you..."

"No," I cut him off. "I just found your scent strange, and it made me sick. That's all."

"We should get you checked..."

"Stephen!" I snapped. "You, of all people, know we haven't even done that in the last three months."

The thought was almost funny.

For the past three months, Stephen had rarely come home for dinner.

There was always another meeting, another "client dinner," or some vague excuse about eating with the team.

At first, I didn't think much of it.

With his position and the endless social whirl that came with it, people were always lining up to share a table with him.

One night, while half-watching a late-night talk show, I heard the host joke, "When a man stops eating at home, it's usually because someone else is feeding him."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

They tore away the comfortable lies I had been living with and left only the truth.

Stephen's expression turned serious. "So that's why you've been upset with me. I'm sorry, Aria. The company's been insane lately, and the pack's security patrols needed reorganizing. I know I've neglected you, but I promise I'll start coming home for dinner every night, okay?"

"I don't need you to do that. I wouldn't want to interfere with your business," I said, my voice edged with sarcasm that even Lily couldn't hide.

"Don't be like that, Aria. There's no need to be upset."

"Is that what you think I am? Upset?"

My eyes dropped to his wrist, where he wore a simple red braided bracelet. No jewels. Just a rough little charm in the shape of a crescent moon.

Definitely handmade.

Noticing my stare, Stephen quickly raised his wrist. "Oh, this? The admin team gave these to everyone at work. It's some kind of gift for the summer solstice. Everyone got one."

I looked away. "Is that so?"

"Do you like it? I can ask them to make me another one for you."

"No, thanks. I hate jewelry."

"Can you give me a minute?" I said. "I need to change."

Stephen laughed softly. "Aria, we've been together seven years."

"I don't like being watched while I change."

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "Fine. Whatever you want. I'll wait in the dining room. Let's have dinner together."

"Of course."

After he left, Emma followed him out.

I pulled out my phone and refreshed my feed.

The first post on my screen made my stomach drop.

May I be your star, and you be my moon, shining together every night. I almost lost you today, but because of him, I found you again.

In the photo, Belinda's delicate hand wore a red braided bracelet with a small star-shaped charm.

It matched Stephen's moon charm perfectly.

They looked like a perfect pair.

Without a second thought, I struck the lighter.

The flame caught fast, curling the edges of the old photos until our smiles turned black and fell apart.

When the last page crumbled, I gathered the ashes and flushed them away.

The water carried what was left of us down the drain, clean and final.

I stood and walked toward the bedroom.

In the mirror, the woman staring back at me looked calm, her makeup flawless, her smile perfectly controlled.

My hair was twisted up neatly, not a single strand out of place. The deep red lipstick curved over my mouth like sin and confidence rolled into one, bold enough to make a statement without saying a word. Diamond studs winked at my ears, small but sharp, and my eyes, lined just right, gave nothing away.

Tonight, I was ready to crack the perfect surface of our peace and show him what it truly cost to betray me.