Before I could make sense of the situation before me.

A pair of soft, delicate hands had already found their way to my chest.

The warmth of her palms felt all too real.

This wasn’t a dream.

And she wasn’t dead.

"Sean…"

Kinley cooed as she leaned closer.

Her fingers traced lazy, intimate circles on my chest.

The lingering scent of their earlier intimacy clung to her, a mix of rosemary and vanilla that made my stomach churn violently.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing myself not to push her away.

Now wasn’t the time to confront her.

I had to figure out what was going on!

Kinley tilted her face up.

Her eyes brimmed with hope as she gazed at me.

"When can we finally be together openly? I’m so tired of hiding."

I reached out, stroking her hair, doing my best to mimic Sean’s usual tone.

"What’s wrong? Didn’t we already agree on this?"

Kinley pouted, her red lips forming a perfect pout of distress.

"Even though you gave her that wolfsbane tea… the thought of our son having to be registered under her name still makes me sick."

Wolfsbane tea?

The words exploded in my mind.

My vision blurred for a moment.

Three years of marriage to Sean.

And still, no child.

The cold looks from Della, the whispered judgments, the countless bitter remedies I’d forced down my throat…

I’d even knelt before the Moon Goddess for three days and nights.

Begging for a pup to carry on the Herrera bloodline.

But nothing had ever come of it.

Then, the tragedy that befell the Taylor pack.

I didn’t want to hold Sean back any longer.

With tears in my eyes, I’d suggested a rejection to him.

And how had Sean responded?

He’d cupped my face with such tenderness, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"Isabel, you’re all I need. I’ve decided—if we can’t have a pup, we’ll adopt one from the pack."

How utterly ironic!

He’d been slipping me wolfsbane tea all along!

His so-called "adoption"…

Was nothing more than a cover for Kinley’s pup!

A surge of anger rushed through me, hot and uncontrollable. I couldn’t stop myself from gripping Kinley’s wrist tightly, the force so strong I could almost hear the bones grinding.

"Ah! Sean! You’re hurting me!" Kinley cried out, her voice sharp with pain.

She tried to pull her hand free, her claws extending and scratching deep lines into my arm. I forced myself to relax, letting go of her wrist, but my gaze immediately dropped to her swollen abdomen.

The size of it… she was at least seven or eight months along.

A cold chill crawled up my spine, freezing me in place.

Memories flooded my mind, sharp and unrelenting.

Six months ago.

When I had returned to the pack house.

Kinley had been eating like a starving wolf back then, her appetite insatiable. Her body had grown fuller, rounder.

I had been concerned, gently scolding her, "Kinley, overeating isn’t healthy. You need to take care of yourself."

She had looked up at me, a piece of steak stuffed in her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

"Luna," she had said, her voice dripping with a strange, sickening sweetness, "it’s fashionable to be curvy these days. Besides, eating well is a blessing!"

I had been about to press further when Sean appeared, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Isabel," he had said, his Alpha tone light but firm, "Kinley’s mark ceremony is in two months. Stop treating her like a pup."

And just like that, the moment had passed. I had laughed it off, not thinking much of it.

But now, as I looked back, the pieces fell into place with brutal clarity.

Sean had been there that day. He had been there, casually pushing a plate of roasted meat toward Kinley.

She had been pregnant even then.

And I, the fool, had been lost in the illusion of a perfect mate bond, blind to the betrayal unfolding right in front of me.

The weight of it crushed me, the reality of their deception settling like a stone in my stomach.

I had been living a lie, while they… they had been building a life together behind my back.

“Sean? What’s wrong with you today? You’re hurting me.”

Kinley Taylor rubbed her reddened wrist, her voice tinged with irritation. I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white as I fought to suppress the surge of anger rising in my chest.

“Kinley… do you really hate her that much?”

At my words, Kinley’s head snapped up. The jealousy in her eyes burned like a wildfire, ready to consume everything in its path.

“Of course! Everyone knows the Herrera family has the perfect daughter, the brilliant Isabel. Who ever notices the one hiding in the shadows?”

“From the time I was a child, the Omegas always told me to behave, to not compete—but why?”

“Just because my mother was an Omega? Just because I was born two years later?”

She grabbed my hand, her eyes desperate for validation.

“Sean, don’t you hate her too? That wretch was your mate for three years, yet she still treated you like a Rogue!”

“Even though you’re at a crucial point in your career as Alpha… she kept the gold mine a secret. My father was such a fool, refusing to say anything before he died.”

She suddenly let out a low, mocking laugh.

“But it doesn’t matter now… I’m the one who won in the end… You’re mine… Ah!”

Her laughter cut off abruptly as my hand closed around her throat. Her perfectly painted face twisted in terror.

“Let… go…”

Her choked plea was barely audible as her legs kicked uselessly in the air. With just a little more pressure, Kinley would be gone forever.

But as her eyes began to glaze over, I released my grip. Kinley crumpled to the floor like a broken doll.

“Cough… cough…”

She clutched her neck, gasping for air, tears and smeared makeup streaking her face. I crouched down, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at me.

“So, you were the one who set the Herrera pack on fire?”

Kinley’s coughing stopped. She stared at me with wide, horrified eyes, as if I were a monster.

“Sean… have you lost your mind?”

Her voice was hoarse.

“That night… wasn’t it you who led the warriors to start the fire? You said… you wanted to make my father talk in the flames…”

Her words struck me like a thunderbolt. The night the Herrera pack burned, when Sean returned “drunk,” the dark stains on his clothes—they weren’t from alcohol.

It was fire oil.

And I, the fool, had been busy brewing him a healing potion…