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.

Aria's POV

Emma appeared in the doorway. "Alpha Stephen said he might be home very late."

I turned to her, my tone even. "Thank you, Emma. You've been wonderful."

I lingered by the vanity, smoothing my skirt, then picked up my coat.

The light threw cold shadows across my face.

"I have some business at the Pack House tonight," I said, as casually as if I were mentioning a trip to the mailbox.

Emma nodded and said nothing.

I grabbed my purse and walked out.

The jewelry store smelled faintly of perfume and polished glass.

Light shimmered off the display cases like tiny stars.

Belinda spotted me and approached with her practiced smile. "Miss Graves, welcome. What would you like to see today?"

I didn't answer right away. I took a seat, picked up a magazine, and flipped through it as if I had all the time in the world.

Then I said calmly, "I have a friend whose husband recently fell for a younger woman. She's heartbroken and doesn't know whether she should try to save the marriage."

Belinda raised an eyebrow, her smile sugary-sweet. "Then her husband doesn't love her anymore. If that's the case, letting go is probably best. Once a woman loses her shine in a man's eyes, no effort will bring it back."

Her gaze flicked to my diamond ring. "But that would never happen to you. You're beautiful, elegant, successful. What man would ever leave you?"

A faint smile appeared on my lips, but I said nothing.

The diamond caught the light and reflected it sharply, just like the truth I had already seen.

Just then, Belinda's phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen, and her face softened instantly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Graves," she said, lowering her voice. "It's my boyfriend. He's getting impatient. Do you mind if I take this call?"

I nodded. "Go ahead."

Belinda turned away, her voice turning sweet and playful.

"Don't be mad, okay? This rich client might spend a fortune tonight. I can't walk away now... I know, I know, it sucks to be stood up. I promise I'll make it up to you."

She laughed softly. "Shh, stop that. I have a customer watching. I'll call you later."

When she hung up, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glowing with that unmistakable look of someone in love.

She came back carrying a velvet tray. "Miss Graves, please take a look at these. I picked the ones that would suit you best. Feel free to try them on."

"Of course," I said.

Belinda moved with quiet grace and confidence, her charm looking completely natural.

"Your boyfriend seems quite attached," I said.

Belinda blushed. "Yes. He's been very busy lately, and so have I. We hardly see each other."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time together soon," I said, my laugh barely a whisper.

I stood, paid, and left.

I could already picture their faces when the truth hit.

For once, I was looking forward to the show.

--

It was midnight.

The only light in the house came from the bedroom upstairs.

I pushed open the front door and saw a pair of glossy black heels by the entryway. They were the same ones Belinda had worn at the jewelry store earlier.

I walked to the kitchen, took some fruit from the fridge, arranged it neatly on a plate, and headed upstairs.

I knocked on the bedroom door.

"Who is it?" Stephen's voice called.

I didn't answer, just knocked again, harder.

"Emma? It's late. Can it wait until morning?"

Belinda's whisper drifted through the door. "Who's that?"

"Our housekeeper."

"She's still up?"

"Probably just reminding me to close the windows."

Footsteps approached. The door opened.

Stephen stood there in pajamas and black-framed glasses, irritation written across his face.

"Emma, I said..." He stopped cold. "Aria? What are you doing here?"

I smiled faintly. "I missed you. Didn't you say we should start trying for a baby? I brought fruit."

His smile froze.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly. "Not in the mood? Or am I interrupting something?"

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Belinda stepped out of the shadows wearing my silk robe.

"Stephen, what's taking so..."

I lifted the fruit fork with a calm smile. "Hello, salesgirl. Want some fruit?"

The air turned to glass.

Belinda's face went pale. "You're... Miss Graves."

"That's right," I said evenly. "And the man you just called Stephen is my husband."

Stephen grabbed my wrist and hissed, "Come with me."

The door slammed behind us.

"You planned this?" he growled.

"Yes," I said, calm as ever. "Is that a problem?"

My smile was sharp enough to cut.

"You talk about having children with me while letting her wear my robe and sleep in my bed. Stephen, what exactly are you trying to prove?"

His eyes hardened. "You've been visiting her store. You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Of course. I even used your credit card to boost her sales numbers."

He went silent, his voice low. "So you planned all of this tonight?"

"I just wanted you to see the ending with your own eyes."

I met his stare without flinching. "Stephen, do you remember what you said on our wedding day?"

He had once knelt before me, eyes red with tears, promising, "If I ever stop loving you, may I be punished for it."

Now he was right here, bringing his mistress into our home and our bed.

Stephen's tone turned harsh. "Aria, is this a game to you? Do you think it's fun to humiliate me?"

"I'm done arguing," I said quietly. "Let's finish this, Stephen."

Lily's power surged inside me, steadying my voice.

"I, Aria Graves, daughter of the Alpha of Moonridge Pack, reject you, Stephen Green of Stoneheart Pack. You're no longer my destined mate. May you live with the pain you chose."

The air thickened, pressing against my skin.

My voice stayed steady, but it carried a cold finality.

Stephen's pupils contracted; he could feel the bond tearing apart.

Pain struck fast. My chest tightened, and each breath felt like a blade.

Blood roared in my veins like a storm collapsing in on itself.

Stephen doubled over too, choking on the backlash.

"End this? Don't you dare..." he rasped.

A woman screamed from the hallway.

Belinda had fallen, clutching her ankle and crying out.

Stephen staggered toward the door.

I caught his arm, tears glinting on my lashes though my smile stayed cruel. "Say the words, or you won't make it through that door."

He stared at me, stunned, then whispered, "I, Stephen Green, accept your rejection."

The bond snapped.

Stephen walked out, lifted Belinda into his arms, and disappeared down the hall.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound low and steady, more relief than humor.

Everything was finally in place.

Then I opened the drawer and took out the divorce papers I'd tricked Stephen into signing a month earlier-documents that would give me half of his personal assets.

He never read them, of course. He just signed, trusting me as he always did.

Soon, Stephen Green's scandal would be all over social media.

I was finally free.

Aria's POV

I stood before the dressing table mirror, trying on makeup I'd never dared to touch before.

Glittery eyeshadow shimmered over metallic lip gloss, false lashes sweeping upward like wings.

Concealer covered every trace of exhaustion and heartbreak.

The woman in the mirror looked new. She was confident, sharp, and ready to fight back.

I was no longer the obedient, soft-spoken Luna everyone expected me to be.

I slid into a black leather mini skirt that clung to my hips and stepped into four-inch heels. The reflection smiled back, sharp and fearless.

Tonight, I wasn't hiding.

The night air brushed against my skin as I stepped outside, cool and electric, tasting like freedom.

"Club Shadow, please," I told the taxi driver, my voice lighter than it had been in years.

Club Shadow was the most exclusive werewolf club in the city.

It was full of smoke, loud music, and people who liked power.

Only high-ranking wolves were allowed to go in.

When I was Stephen's mate, he never let me near that place.

He always said a Luna should stay home and behave.

But tonight, I wasn't his Luna.

Tonight, I was going there to raise a glass to my own rebirth.

The taxi glided through neon-lit streets.

City lights reflected on the window like streaks of silver.

I tapped my fingers on my knee to the beat of the radio.

Every sound reminded me that seven years of my life had been wasted on lies, poison, and pretending.

When the taxi was almost at the club entrance, my phone started to vibrate hard.

The screen showed: Moonridge Pack--Beta Kael.

My stomach tightened.

"Miss Aria!" Beta Kael's voice sounded nervous. "Your mother just collapsed at the pack medical center. Her condition is very bad!"

The smile on my face disappeared. "What happened to my mother?"

"It's Miss Clara!" Beta Kael said quickly. "She made the Alpha King of Silverfang Pack, Damien Rothwell, angry. Things got out of control. When your mother heard about it, she fainted. The doctor said it might be life-threatening."

For a moment, I couldn't speak. My mind went blank.

Then one name echoed in my head.

---

Clara Graves.

She was my arrogant half-sister, the one who had always treated my mother like an intruder and me like a stain on the family name.

Her own mother had died years earlier, and my mother married my father after that.

But Clara never accepted it.

Then Kael's words came back to me. The words "mother" and "critical condition" broke my calm completely.

My mother was the only person who ever cared for me, and now she was in danger. Fear rushed back into my chest, cold and sharp.

"Turn around," I told the driver. "Take me to Moonridge Pack territory. Hurry."

The taxi turned sharply and sped toward the edge of the city.

The air inside felt heavy.

The excitement I had felt a few minutes ago was gone, replaced by fear and worry.

When I reached the medical center, it was already full of people.

Pack members stood in small groups, whispering to each other.

It was the same in every pack. News always spread fast, like a small-town rumor mill.

"I heard the Alpha King came in person."

"They say it's about future Luna Sally White. She was pushed off a cliff."

"Clara Graves messed with Rothwell's fiancée. She's done for."

I opened the door, and a strong smell of medicine filled the air.

My mother was lying on the bed, pale and weak, her breathing slow and uneven.

"Mom!"

Her eyelashes moved a little, and her lips trembled.

"Aria, don't go back. No matter what they say, don't agree."

Her voice was faint, and then she lost consciousness again.

The sound of heavy footsteps came from the hallway.

I turned around, my heart beating fast.

Alpha Gideon Graves, my father, stood at the end of the hall with anger written all over his face.

Behind him stood several pack members and Beta Kael, their faces a mix of concern, calculation, and thinly veiled fear.

"Aria, you're here," my father said flatly, his tone more weary than warm.

My voice turned to ice. "Where's Clara?"

Gideon hesitated, his gaze sliding away like a man about to lie.

Before he could answer, a deep rumble came from outside, like thunder before a storm.

The heavy iron doors opened with a loud clang, and a group of guards in black and silver uniforms walked in with steady steps.

The air grew tense with Alpha energy, a kind of pressure that made weaker wolves lower their heads.

Then he appeared.

Damien Rothwell.

The Alpha King of the Silverfang Pack. The man every pack in the north feared to cross.

He was taller than I expected, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a body that looked built for war.

His movements were quiet but full of power, like he didn't need to prove who he was.

His hair was the color of gold under the lights, a striking contrast to his black eyes. Those eyes were cold and sharp, the kind that could make even an Alpha lower his head.

His face was all hard lines and angles, a perfect mix of Roman beauty and danger.

I had seen his picture once in a pack report, but it hadn't prepared me for the real thing.

Standing this close, I could feel the weight of his presence pressing against my skin. He was thirty-two, young for a king, but there was something ancient in the way he carried himself, something that showed he had seen too much and cared too little.

He surveyed the room, his voice low and absolute.

"Clara Graves pushed my fiancée, Sally White, off a cliff. She fell. We don't yet know if she'll live or die."

The hall went dead silent, the only sound the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

"According to pack law," he continued, "blood calls for blood."

He paused, his gaze slicing through the air like a blade.

"I require a Graves to atone for this crime."

No one moved. The crowd seemed to shrink away from him.

Gideon stepped forward, forcing a respectful tone. "Alpha King, our pack member would never intentionally harm your fiancée. It must have been an accident..."

"I don't want excuses," Alpha Damien interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut glass.

"I only want one name. Clara Graves."

You could almost hear the collective heartbeat of the room stop.

I stood at the back, my pulse hammering in my ears.

When I looked at my father, I saw a quick gleam in his eyes.

Hours later, I sat by my mother's bedside, listening to the soft hum of the machines.

The smell of medicine and disinfectant filled the room, sharp at first, then strangely comforting.

I had been awake too long. My eyes were heavy, and the chair felt warmer with every minute.

For a moment, I let myself relax.

A faint sound came from the doorway.

"She's asleep," my father's voice said quietly.

"Do it."

I didn't even have time to move before a sharp pain touched my arm.

"Father?"

The moment the needle bit into my skin, the world didn't soften at the edges the way ordinary exhaustion did.

Instead, it hollowed me out-as if someone had scooped the strength from my muscles and replaced it with ice water that sloshed cold and foreign through my veins.

I remembered his hand at my neck.

Remembered the way he pressed Clara's perfume into my throat until it clung there like a second skin, cloying and false.

Remembered the calm in his eyes as he watched me sway-the patience of a man who'd already decided my resistance didn't matter.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, as if I were the unreasonable one for wanting to live. "The pack needs a Graves."

He was still the same. Always would be.

Forever favoring my sister, forever treating me as the spare-the one who could be sacrificed because someone else would always shine brighter.