Another picture followed.

A grainy, black-and-white image of a tiny embryo. In the top right corner, the text read: 6 weeks.

【Surprised? You know, when I told Andrew the news, he was so excited he acted like a wild beast.】

【Oh, and by the way, he really is a beast with me. Not so… restrained, like he is with you. Is he always gentle when you two are together? Hahaha, that’s because he doesn’t even want to touch you! But with me… God, I can barely handle how feral he gets!】

I leaned back against the hospital bed, the world spinning.

Andrew had once looked at me with that same hopeful excitement, saying, "Our pup will be the happiest child in the world."

But the child we had waited five years for was now growing in his mistress's womb.

Maybe I should congratulate them.

Another message popped up:

【By the way, he said he wants to keep his pregnant mate happy, so he's taking me to New York tomorrow. We're going to have a romantic little getaway~】

I shut off my phone and left the hospital, my face a blank mask.

No one stops a Luna, even one who looks like she's about to collapse.

Back at the estate, I started packing.

I took out all the gifts Andrew had ever given me—the jewelry, the clothes, the designer bags—and threw them one by one into trash bags.

These things, once symbols of love and commitment, were now just hollow props in a one-woman show.

As I was packing, my phone buzzed.

A message from Andrew.

【Babe, I have to go to New York to handle some urgent pack business. I'll probably be gone for three days. I wanted to take you with me, but you're too weak. You should stay home and rest.】

I sent a simple, two-word reply: 【Okay.】

A few minutes later, my phone rang.

It was Andrew.

"Lucia? You're quiet today," he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Usually when I have to travel, you ask a million questions and pout until I promise to come back soon."

"I'm probably just not feeling well," I said calmly. "You go handle your business. I'll be fine resting here."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he asked tentatively, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little off today."

"I'm not off," I said. "Just tired."

Another silence.

I could hear the muffled sound of an airport announcement in the background.

He was already on his way to New York.

"Andrew," I heard myself ask, my voice detached, "if one day you woke up and I was gone, what would you do?"

A confident laugh came from the other end. "Don't be silly, babe. You're my mate. You have my mark. I could find you no matter where you run."

His voice was filled with absolute confidence and possession, as if I were his property.

"Is that so?"

After hanging up, I went back to my packing.

Andrew would never imagine that in three days, when our mate bond shattered completely, he would lose track of me for good.

And then, no matter how powerful he was, he would never find me again.

Three days until the end.

My phone started buzzing in the morning and didn't stop.

All messages from Crystal in New York.

The first was a picture of her and Andrew in a hotel lobby, hugging each other tightly like a couple deep in love.

The second was a photo of them at a Michelin-star restaurant, with Andrew tenderly cutting her steak.

There were more, with even more explicit details.

I saved every single message, my face devoid of expression.

These photos would be the perfect "souvenir" to leave for him.

For the next two days, I methodically erased every trace of myself from the house.

I packed away or destroyed my clothes, my books, and anything else that proved I had ever lived there.

I even repainted my room and took down all our photos, making the space look as if it had never been occupied.

On the afternoon of the final day, I called my only friend, Maria.

"Lucia? You sound... strange," Maria said, her voice full of concern. "What's going on?"

"Maria, I need to see you," I said. "There's something important I need to tell you."

An hour later, we met at a quiet café.

She gasped when she saw me. "Gods, Lucia, you've lost so much weight, and..."

"And what?"

"Your aura... it's changed," she said with a frown. "You seem… colder. Like a different person."

I took a sip of coffee. "Maybe this was the real me all along."

"What did you want to tell me?" Maria asked, worried.

I took a phone out of my bag and placed it on the table in front of her. "If Andrew asks where I am, give this to him."

"What do you mean?" Maria picked up the phone. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere far away from here," I said calmly. "Maria, this might be the last time we see each other."

"Don't worry. This is my choice. The phone has the answers he'll want. When he wants to know why, he'll understand."

I stood up and gently stroked her hair. "Take care of yourself, Maria."

After leaving the café, I returned to the house that would soon no longer be mine.

As the sun set, I stood alone in the backyard, staring at the field of rainbow moonflowers.

This was the beginning of our love, and it would also be the end.

Midnight approached. The final moment before our mate bond snapped for good.

I lit a torch and tossed it into the center of the flowerbed.

Flames spread quickly, the rainbow-colored petals twisting, withering, and turning to ash in the inferno.

Just as the fire roared at its peak, a searing agony shot through the mark on my shoulder.

The pain was more intense than I could have ever imagined, like a white-hot branding iron peeling the mark from my very soul.

"Ah—!"

A pained cry escaped my lips as I collapsed to my knees.

But the agony lasted only a few seconds before it vanished completely.

In its place, an unprecedented feeling of lightness filled my body.

The spiritual chains that had bound me for five years finally shattered.

I got to my feet, gave the burning garden one last look, and walked away without a backward glance toward the car I had parked by the gate.

I stomped on the gas and drove toward freedom.

At that same moment, in a luxury hotel in New York, Andrew, wrapped in the arms of Crystal, suddenly felt a sharp pang in his chest.

He shot up in bed, clutching his heart, feeling as if something vital had just been ripped from his life.

He tried to reach for me through our mental link, but found nothing.

The connection that had been a constant hum in the back of his mind for five years... was silent.

Gone.