I didn't go to the house Charlie had rented for me, nor did I return to the Silvermoon pack. Instead, I chose a postnatal care center.

When the receptionist learned of my miscarriage, she thoughtfully arranged for me to stay on a quiet floor.

For a few days, I enjoyed the solitude, until a notification broke through the stillness—a video pushed to my phone.

That's when I remembered I'd forgotten to cancel the monitoring account for our marital home.

Without thinking, I clicked on it.

On the screen, Charlie and my cousin Lisa were tangled together on the couch. Lisa was wearing an almost transparent lace nightgown that clung to her full, tempting figure.

Charlie's head was buried in her chest, his breathing heavy.

"Let me ask Eve when she's coming back," he said, reaching for his phone.

But before the call could ring for more than a second, Lisa grabbed it, pouting. "Ugh, stop it. Why are you thinking about your ex-fiancée when you're with me? Focus!"

Lisa hooked her arms around his neck, her hand slipping deftly under his shirt and moving downward.

Charlie couldn't resist; he pushed her down onto the couch and kissed her with a hunger I'd never seen before—not even during our first time together. Clothes scattered to the floor within moments.

I thought I'd seen enough, but the absurdity escalated.

A group of women from The Velvet Bite wearing black stockings and nothing else above the waist—entered the scene, wrapping themselves around Charlie.

To my shock, he welcomed them with open arms, letting them press into him. He even kissed their bare necks and chests.

I never imagined my cousin Lisa and my Alpha, Charlie, could sink so low. Not only did they betray me, but they also indulged in this grotesque display of debauchery.

Rage burned through my chest. My wolf howled inside, desperate to tear through the screen and shred them all. Their licentious voices filled the room.

Lisa's seductive tone grated on my ears. "Oh, my lightning bolt, Alpha Charlie, I just got out of the hospital. Be gentle!"

Charlie, his eyes flushed with suppressed desire, looked at her and muttered, "Little vixen, why don't you do it yourself?"

Lisa, her gaze sultry, lifted his chin playfully. "That depends on your performance," she teased. "Between me and your ex-fiancée, who do you love more?"

Panting heavily, Charlie's expression darkened. "Eve is my fiancée. Who do you think I love more? Besides, we agreed at the beginning to each get what we wanted. Most people wouldn't play with me and prostitutes. You enjoy it too, don't you?"

Lisa slid off him abruptly, her lips trembling as tears began to spill. "I nearly lost my life trying to please you, and this is what I get?"

Charlie panicked. He hated it when women cried. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her until her complaints turned into gasps of pleasure.

I watched, numb, as they moved from the couch to the bedroom and then to the bathroom, experimenting with every position imaginable.

It became painfully clear to me—Charlie had never loved me.

When he was severely injured, I wept in secret, but he never saw my swollen eyes. Instead, he scorned me for being melodramatic, accusing me of using tears to manipulate him. He even paraded other women in front of me, claiming that even if he'd once loved me, he was justified in playing around now.

I felt a deep sense of relief that I hadn't kept the child. Even if he married me, Charlie would have continued his sordid escapades.

As their moans filled the air once again, I exited the interface and deleted the account.

The next morning, Charlie called me. It was the first time he'd reached out since his incident. I didn't answer. When he couldn't get through, he sent a message.

Charlie: [Eve, what's the meaning of this? I agreed to marry you, so why did you throw away all the wedding items at home?]

I refused to let him humiliate me any further, so I lied.

Eve: [That house isn't luxurious enough. I've bought a seaside villa and moved in there.]

Moments later, Lisa sent me a video. It was a recording of her and Charlie in bed, accompanied by a crying emoji.

Lisa: [Oops, sis, I sent this by mistake!]

Lisa: [Charlie got drunk last night and insisted on seeing me. I didn't expect him to pin me down the moment I arrived. He must've mistaken me for you. I'm so sorry, sis! I tried pushing him away, but he was too strong.]

Her next message dripped with malice.

Lisa: [But Charlie is amazing. He's so obsessed with my body, kissed me all over. If I were you, I'd invest in some lessons on how to please a man. Otherwise, why would Charlie be so starved around you?]

She sent me a transfer of 8,000 dollars.

"Here's the money for the wedding dress. I'll wear it instead. When we get married, you're welcome to attend the reception!"

Faced with her blatant provocation, I refunded the transfer.

Eve: [Consider this my gift for your wedding. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.]

Then, I blocked her.

As my health improved, I decided it was time to leave. I booked a flight and realized it coincided with their wedding day. It didn't matter anymore.

Before heading to the airport, I stopped at a jewelry store to pick out a gift for a friend. That's when I remembered the wedding ring I'd designed with Charlie. It was still unclaimed.

But when the clerk checked the records, they told me Charlie had already picked it up.

As I stepped outside, I ran into Charlie and Lisa on the street. Their fingers were intertwined, and they wore the rings I had designed.

Charlie noticed my gaze and hurriedly explained, "Eve, about the ring—"

"You two look perfect together," I interrupted, turning away.

The day I left, I walked out of the care center and headed straight to the airport. Meanwhile, Charlie's friends, carrying custom wedding dresses and makeup kits, arrived at the house he had rented for me.

They knocked persistently, but no one answered. The commotion disturbed a neighbor, who stepped out and said, "No one's been living there. Did you get the wrong address?"

The group of men froze in confusion.

"What do you mean? A month ago, didn't a young woman move in here?" one of them asked.

"She looks like this!" Another held up a photo of me.

The neighbor squinted at the image and nodded. "I've seen her. She lived in the next building over. But ever since her husband died, I haven't seen her. Are you her friends?"

The men immediately sensed something was off. Grabbing the neighbor, they pressed him for answers.

"What nonsense are you spouting? Her husband is Charlie, and Charlie is alive and kicking! How could he be dead? Don't tell me she paid you off to mess with us!"

"Call her out right now! Charlie has fully recovered, and today's their wedding day! If her drama ruins the auspicious timing, the ceremony will be delayed again!"

Raising their voices, they began shouting deliberately toward the neighbor's door. The neighbor, who had recently returned from another settlement, was utterly bewildered.

"I don't even know who this Charlie is," he said, exasperated.

Convinced I was hiding inside, the men barged past him, shoving their way into his home. The neighbor tried to stop them, but it was too late.

"You people are unbelievable," he muttered. "You don't even know where your own friend lives, and now you're making a scene? Her husband's dead, for heaven's sake. The last time I saw her, she was dealing with a bunch of wedding stuff. Poor woman. She seemed really heartbroken, sorting through all those albums and wedding photos. You could tell how much she loved her husband. What a pity."

The words hit the group like a slap. They knew how I cherished every memory with Charlie. Even the pull-tab from a soda can he once jokingly used as a ring—something so trivial—had been carefully stored in a high-end case as if it were a treasure.

But now, hearing that I had thrown out bags upon bags of couple-related belongings, they began to realize something was seriously wrong.

Just then, the locksmith they had called arrived and made quick work of the door.

They stormed inside, only to find the apartment barren, untouched since the day they and Charlie had decorated it. Everything was exactly as it had been left—the same arrangements, the same furnishings. Even the roses they had placed in the vase were now dry and withered.

The men exchanged uneasy glances. Their faces paled.

Without wasting a second, one of them called Charlie.

"Charlie, something's wrong…"

"What is it?" His voice, impatient, crackled through the line.

"She never moved in. The place is completely untouched. And—get this—she's thrown away every single thing tied to your six years together. The photos, the albums, the wedding pictures—gone!"

"What?" Charlie's tone sharpened. "That's impossible! She told me she bought a seaside villa. Maybe she's already moved there!"

"Charlie, send us the address right now. We'll bring her wedding dress over."

On the other end of the line, Charlie froze. A realization hit him like a blow: he had no idea where the supposed seaside villa was.