Alessia POV:

The walk back to our wing of the house felt like traversing enemy territory. The scent of him, of them, was everywhere. Serena’s cheap floral perfume mixed with Dante’s masculine scent of leather and spice. It was a violation, an invasion that made my stomach churn.

This wasn’t my home anymore. It was a cage tainted by lies.

When I pushed open the door to our bedroom, the combined scent was so strong it felt like a slap. I saw her things—a silk robe draped over my reading chair, a pair of her shoes by the bed.

Something inside me snapped.

A raw, desperate energy surged through me. I stalked into the room, grabbing the silk robe and flinging it out into the hallway. Then her shoes. A book she’d been reading. I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care what they thought. I was cleansing my space, exorcising her presence with a fury I didn’t know I possessed.

I was in the middle of dragging Dante’s clothes from the closet, intent on throwing them out too, when a sleek black car pulled up to the front entrance.

Dante emerged, Serena clinging to his arm. He was holding her child, whispering soothing words to him.

“This will be your new home now, little one,” I heard him say, his voice carrying on the still night air. “I’ll protect you both.”

An elderly pack member, Mrs. Bianchi, was walking by and stopped, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Don Rossi! What a beautiful family. Congratulations on your heir.”

Serena beamed, preening under the praise.

My blood ran cold. The lie was spreading. It was becoming truth in the eyes of our people.

Dante didn’t correct her. He didn’t even hesitate. He simply nodded, a possessive hand coming to rest on Serena’s waist, pulling her closer. It was a clear, public declaration.

In their eyes, I was already replaced.

He finally looked up and saw me standing in the doorway, his clothes in a heap at my feet. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.

“Alessia,” he said, his voice tight. “I thought I told you to wait for me.”

It was such a blatant lie, such a transparent attempt to paint me as the disobedient one, that a bitter laugh almost escaped my lips.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth, Dante?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Why didn’t you tell her that child isn’t yours? That I am the one carrying your heir?”

“Don’t make a scene,” he hissed, his eyes darting around to see if anyone was listening.

The baby in his arms began to fuss, a thin, reedy cry that instantly captured all of Dante’s attention. He turned his back on me completely, focusing on cooing at the child.

“Serena and the boy will be staying here,” he said over his shoulder, his voice devoid of any emotion. “In the master suite. You can take the guest room at the end of the hall.”

The guest room. The omega’s quarters. It was the lowest-status room in the house, reserved for visiting members of no importance. It was a public and deliberate humiliation.

He was not just replacing me. He was demoting me. Erasing me.

Any lingering flicker of hope, any tiny, stupid ember of the love I once felt, was extinguished. There was nothing left now but a hollow, aching void.

He wanted to put me in my place. Fine.

I would find a new one.

Alessia POV:

Dante settled Serena and her child into the room right next to our—my—bedroom. The message was clear. They came first.

A wave of nausea washed over me, a combination of morning sickness and the soul-deep sickness of his betrayal. My body felt weak, drained. My inner wolf, the life force tied to his, was restless and agitated, confused by the actions of its mate. It was a constant, low-grade thrum of pain under my skin.

I stumbled into the small, cold guest room he had assigned me and collapsed onto the bed.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open. It was Dante. He approached the bed, his face a mask of false concern.

“Are you unwell?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur. He reached out and stroked my hair, a gesture that once would have brought me comfort. Now, it felt like a lie.

His hand was tainted. I could smell her on him. The cloying floral scent mixed with the sour smell of her baby’s milk. The scent was an invasion, a physical presence in the room that made my nausea worse. My body recoiled from his touch, a primal rejection of the foreign scent on my mate.

“I need some water,” I whispered, my throat dry. My own body was fighting against me, protesting the poison in our lives.

He nodded, turning to leave the room. But just as he reached the door, I felt it—a private, intimate mental link opening between him and Serena. It was a connection he had never shared with anyone but me.

*Dante, my love,* her thoughts simpered, dripping with fake vulnerability. *The baby is crying. He needs you. I need you.*

His hesitation was nonexistent.

*I’m coming,* he sent back instantly, his thought a warm caress I hadn't received in months.

He turned back to me, his expression hardening slightly. “Serena needs me. I’ll send a servant with your water.”

And then he was gone.

He left me, his pregnant, mated wife, lying sick and weak, to run to her side.

A bitter, painful lump formed in my throat. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't breathe this air. I pushed myself up, my legs trembling, and made my way down the hall towards the kitchen.

As I passed Serena's room, the door was ajar. I tried to look away, to keep walking, but my eyes were drawn to the scene inside against my will.

It was a perfect picture of domestic bliss. A fire crackled in the hearth. Serena was lying on the bed, looking artfully exhausted, while Dante sat beside her, gently rocking her baby in his arms. He was humming a lullaby, the same one my mother used to sing to me.

I froze, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. My body was a statue of pure, unadulterated pain.

Then I heard her voice, soft and venomous. “When will you do it, Dante? When will you finally reject her and sever the bond?”

I watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Soon, my love,” he promised. “Very soon. I’ll give you and this little one the life you deserve. I promise.”

My world, which had been cracking for months, finally shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Alessia POV:

I didn't sleep. The love I’d felt for Dante, the all-consuming fire that had defined my life for four years, had burned itself out. All that remained were cold, grey ashes and an unnerving emptiness.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, my decision was made. Not with tears or anger, but with a chilling, absolute clarity.

Using a burner phone I kept hidden for emergencies, I sent a single, coded message to my mother’s Consigliere. The escape plan was in motion.

When Dante came downstairs, he looked refreshed, happy. The sight of it made the ashes in my chest stir with a bitter wind.

He approached me, his expression turning serious, but his eyes held a spark of excitement. It was the look of a man about to get everything he wanted.

“Alessia,” he began, his tone grave. “We need to perform the ritual. To sever the bond.”

I looked at him, my face a perfect mask of calm. “I agree.”

The shock on his face was almost comical. He had expected tears, begging, a fight. My placid agreement threw him completely off balance.

“You… you do?” he stammered.

“Yes,” I said, my voice even. “It’s for the best.”

“It’s just a formality, you understand,” he said quickly, trying to regain control. “A temporary measure. To protect Serena’s child from… pack politics. Once things settle down, I will petition for your forgiveness. We can be mated again.”

He was lying. He was lying to my face, assuming I was too stupid or too broken to see it. He wanted to have it all—his new family and me, his dutiful omega, waiting in the wings.

He reached for me, his hand cupping my cheek. “You’re being so understanding,” he murmured, relief flooding his features. He believed his own pathetic lies. “This is why you are the perfect mate.”

He leaned in to kiss me.

I turned my head just enough that his lips brushed my cheek instead. It still felt like being touched by a snake. He didn’t seem to notice, mistaking my revulsion for maidenly shyness.

“I’ll go tell Serena the good news,” he said, practically beaming. He turned and bounded up the stairs, a man freed from a burden.

A moment later, I heard them. Laughter. Her delighted, triumphant laugh, and his, deep and relieved. They were celebrating my destruction.

I sat alone in the silent kitchen, my hand closing around the cold, smooth surface of my burner phone. Let them celebrate.

He wanted the bond severed.

I was going to give him exactly what he wanted. And with it, I would take my freedom.