Betrayed by My Alpha Mate

I stared at the silver envelope on my small wooden desk, my fingers trembling as I traced the elegant cursive of my name. Today was my twenty-fourth birthday, and this was the only card I'd received. Three years ago, birthdays meant pancakes with extra blueberries and Alex's warm arms wrapped around me as we watched the sunrise from our little cottage porch. Now, they were just another day of scrubbing floors and avoiding Victoria's cruel gaze.

Something about the envelope felt wrong. The Sterling family crest pressed into the wax seal seemed to mock me. I broke it open, expecting perhaps a formal acknowledgment from Alexander—something cold but proper.

What fell out stole the breath from my lungs.

Photographs. Glossy, professional shots of Alexander and Victoria in ceremonial white robes, standing beneath an arch of moonflowers—my moonflowers, the ones I'd cultivated for years. His hands on her waist. Her triumphant smile. The sacred marking ritual captured in high definition.

"No," I whispered, my voice cracking as I flipped through image after image. "No, no, no..."

Then I saw it—a check. Eight million dollars made out to me, with Luna Sterling's elegant signature. A small note card accompanied it: "Leave the Sterling territory. Never return. This is your only warning."

My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor of my tiny Omega quarters, clutching the evidence of my mate's ultimate betrayal to my chest. The mate bond between us twisted painfully, as if someone had driven a knife through it. I'd known Alexander was courting Victoria publicly—a political match, he'd said—but I'd clung to the desperate belief that our sacred bond meant something. That somewhere inside the cold Alpha was still my Alex, the man who'd marked me under the full moon and promised me forever.

I was still sitting there, tears dried on my cheeks, when the door opened without a knock. Luna Sterling stood in the doorway, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun, her eyes assessing me like I was a particularly disappointing piece of furniture.

"I see you received my gift," she said, her voice as crisp as autumn leaves. "Eight million is generous. More than generous for someone of your... status."

I rose slowly to my feet, still clutching the photos. "This isn't a gift. It's a bribe."

"Call it what you will." She stepped into the room, her expensive perfume overwhelming the small space. "My son has made his choice. Victoria will be his Luna. Your presence here is an embarrassment to everyone, Isabella. Take the money. Start a new life far from here. Or don't take it—but leave regardless."

"And if I refuse?" I asked, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice.

Luna Sterling's perfectly painted lips curved into something too cold to be called a smile. "Then what has happened to you so far will seem like kindness."

I straightened my spine, feeling something harden inside me. "I won't be threatened. I won't be bought. Alexander marked me as his mate. That bond—"

"Means nothing compared to pack politics," she interrupted. "You're wolfless. An Omega. You have no place beside an Alpha."

She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Consider the offer. It expires at midnight."

That evening, I was assigned to serve at the formal pack dinner. My birthday dinner, though no one acknowledged it. I moved silently between tables, refilling wine glasses, my eyes burning with unshed tears every time I caught sight of Alexander at the head table, Victoria draped possessively across his arm.

I was refilling a glass near their table when Victoria suddenly jerked her arm, sending her crystal wineglass shattering across the floor. Shards sliced into my hand as I immediately knelt to clean up the mess.

"Clumsy Omega," Victoria sneered, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "Don't you recognize your own sister?"

My head snapped up, blood dripping from my palm onto the white tablecloth. "What?"

"Victoria," a sharp female voice cautioned from across the table.

I looked up to see an elegant woman with Victoria's same amber eyes—eyes I'd seen in my own reflection for twenty-four years. My mother. Luna Ashford. The woman who had cast me out thirteen years ago for being wolfless.

"Mother?" I whispered, the word foreign on my tongue.

She looked straight through me, as if I were nothing but air, and turned to speak to Alexander.

In that moment, kneeling on the floor with blood and wine seeping into my uniform, the full weight of my abandonment crashed over me. Not just by Alexander, but by my own flesh and blood—twice over.