Rosalie

They let me out after two weeks. It was originally supposed to take a full month, but somehow Alpha Cedric intervened and shortened it. I didn’t need anyone to tell me. I already knew it was him.

The head therapist described my discharge as “significant improvement.” To me, it felt less like recovery and more like influence—his influence pulling strings I couldn’t see.

When I finally stepped outside the rehabilitation center, the winter air hit my skin in a way that felt almost unfamiliar. It was as if I had been buried for too long and was only now being dragged back into the world.

Alpha Cedric was waiting by the car. He looked exhausted, but not like someone grieving. More like a man drained by inconvenience.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Just two people who once called each other mates, now standing as strangers tied together by something that felt more like restraint than bond.

“I’ll drive,” he said at last.

I didn’t argue. I simply got into the passenger seat. Inside the car, the silence pressed down heavily, thick enough to suffocate. Every so often, I felt his eyes flick toward me, as if he was silently judging whether I was “normal” again.

After a while, he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about what happened before,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. “Everything was… chaotic.”

Chaotic. That was what he reduced our son’s death to.

My fingers tightened around the torn half of the teddy bear hidden inside my coat pocket.

“We can bring Julian home now,” he added after a moment. “If he’s really in Ashmoon Pack.”

My head turned slowly toward him. “But Julian is—”

The car suddenly chimed, interrupting my words.

Incoming call: Vivian.

He answered without hesitation, and the call immediately played through the speakers.

“Alpha, please!” Vivian’s voice came through, broken and panicked. “Aiden collapsed again! I don’t know what to do!”

The shift in Cedric was instant. His entire expression changed.

“Calm down, Alli,” he said, his tone softening. “I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

Without asking me, he made a sharp turn. The car changed direction immediately, heading toward the hospital. Of course it did.

When we arrived, Vivian was already outside the emergency entrance, crying into her hands. The moment she spotted us, she rushed forward.

But instead of going to Cedric, she came straight to me.

“Where is Julian?” she demanded, grabbing my arms tightly. “Tell me—where is he?”

I stared at her, confused by her intensity.

“Please, calm down, Alli,” Alpha Cedric said, stepping between us. He placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her gently against him. She collapsed into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

After a moment, she pulled back, eyes swollen and red.

“Aiden needs a bone marrow transplant,” she said shakily. “He has rare Alpha blood. The doctors said finding a match won’t be easy.”

Cedric stiffened immediately. “I’ll get tested.”

And he did. We were brought into a private room where doctors collected his sample first, then Vivian’s. Neither of them matched.

When the doctor returned shaking his head, Vivian completely broke down.

“We need Julian!” she cried desperately.

Her hands clung to Cedric’s shirt.

“He’s his brother! They’re half-siblings—he has to match!”

My ears rang at her words.

Half-siblings.

I froze. “What did you just say?” I almost convinced myself I had misheard.

Vivian’s breathing turned uneven. “Years ago… the night before your wedding… I was with him.”

The room seemed to tighten around me.

“That’s when Aiden was conceived,” she continued, voice trembling but steady. “He’s your husband’s son too, Alpha.”

Everything tilted slightly. The night before my wedding. I remembered it clearly—how Cedric had told me he was dealing with pack matters. How I waited, nervous and excited, believing in a future that wasn’t what I thought it was.

And all the while, he had been with her.

Cedric grabbed Vivian’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me Aiden was my son sooner?”

He didn’t look angry. He looked unsettled. Worried.

“Because you were married!” Vivian cried. “You had a son with Rosalie. I couldn’t destroy that!”

Destroy that.

My chest felt painfully empty.

Then Vivian suddenly turned to me, desperation flashing in her eyes. “Your son and mine are half-brothers! Julian’s marrow will match Aiden! Bring him here, Rosalie—please!”

I looked at her properly this time. Really looked.

The woman who lied about the accident. The woman who watched me get dragged into rehab. The one who took my son’s belongings. The one who slept with my mate before our wedding. The one who caused enough chaos that Cedric froze my accounts while my son lay dying in a hospital bed.

And something inside me shifted. I didn’t feel pity. I didn’t feel anger anymore either. Just emptiness so deep it felt final.

“I’m not going to lie anymore,” I said quietly. “Julian is dead.”

The words were soft, but they landed heavily.

Vivian’s face twisted instantly.

“Don’t you dare lie!” she screamed. “You just don’t want to help! You want my son to die because he threatens your child’s place as heir! Because Aiden is older! Because he’s also Cedric’s son!”

Cedric’s expression darkened.

“Rosalie, stop this,” he said coldly. “You’re hiding Julian because you don’t want to save Aiden. That’s how selfish you are.”

Selfish. The word echoed inside my head. I almost wished it were true—at least then I wouldn’t feel this hollow.

“I watched my son die,” I said faintly. “I begged you for help.”

“Enough,” Cedric snapped. “Enough of your lies.”

**

When Aiden’s condition worsened again, Cedric stopped arguing with me entirely.

He stepped out into the corridor and began making calls. I watched him through the glass—his voice sharp, commanding, reaching out to other Alphas, other packs, territories far beyond Winterfang.

Within hours, he secured a compatible donor.

Hours.

It took him hours to do what he never even attempted for Julian. For our son.

The irony made my throat tighten.

Aiden was rushed into surgery. Vivian stayed glued to Cedric’s side the entire time.

I stood alone in the hallway. No one spoke to me. No one even looked at me.

And in that silence, I made a promise to myself. Cedric would never get closure for Julian. Not as long as he refused to accept the truth.

I would make sure of it.

I was still standing there when footsteps approached.

“Rosalie.”

I turned. Celine stood behind me, her expression cautious, almost hesitant.

“How are you holding up?” she asked gently.

I didn’t answer. There was no answer that made sense anymore.

She hesitated, as if deciding whether to continue.

“There’s something I should have given you earlier,” she said softly.

“Just say it,” I replied.

She exhaled shakily and handed me a folded document. “I tried to give this before… but after Julian…”

Her voice broke. “I didn’t want to add more pain.”

My hands trembled as I opened it. A medical report. From the night of the accident.

Head trauma. Rib fractures. Internal bleeding. My eyes moved down the page.

Then I saw it.

Miscarriage. Eight weeks.

The world went still.

I had been pregnant. I hadn’t even known.

That night, I hadn’t just lost Julian. I had lost another child I never even got the chance to meet.

Celine’s voice felt far away. “I’m so sorry.”

But I couldn’t cry. Nothing came out anymore. It felt like grief had gone past pain and settled into something quiet and permanent.

How had everything become this?

A mate who betrayed me. A man who believed another woman over me. A child I lost. Another I never knew existed. A life I no longer recognized as mine.

I folded the paper carefully. My hands didn’t shake anymore. They were too steady.

Without looking away, I took out my phone.

Celine frowned. “Rosalie?”

I dialed a number I hadn’t used in years.

“My office,” a calm voice answered.

“This is Rosalie Ashbourne,” I said evenly. “I want my divorce processed.”

A pause. “From Alpha Cedric?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

I looked through the glass wall. Cedric stood with Vivian, holding her hand as they waited for news about Aiden.

Then I thought of Julian. Of the child I would never hear laugh again. Of the heartbeat I never got to know.

“I’m divorcing Alpha Cedric,” I repeated.

Rosalie

The following morning, I returned to the Winterfang Packhouse.

Nothing about the mansion had changed. It still stood grand and distant, untouched by grief as if it had no memory of what it had taken from me. The guards lowered their heads when I passed, their gazes briefly catching on the black dress I wore and the exhaustion etched into my face. None of them tried to stop me.

I moved through the corridors at a steady pace, my heels striking the marble floors that once gave me a sense of belonging. Now, every echo felt чуж—like I was trespassing in a place that no longer recognized me. The servants averted their eyes as I passed. I heard murmurs behind me, but no one was brave enough to speak directly.

I went straight to the bedroom. No—his room now.

I packed only what I needed. A single suitcase. A few sets of clothing. Important documents. And Julian’s small shirt, folded with care that felt more like pain than tenderness. The moment I held it, something sharp twisted inside my chest again.

By the time I finished, the afternoon light had already shifted when Cedric stepped inside.

We stopped a few steps apart.

His eyes flicked briefly to the suitcase, then settled on me.

“So you’re finally bringing Julian home?” he asked.

I swallowed hard and gave a small nod.

Yes… I was bringing him home. Just not in the way he believed.

“Don’t forget,” Cedric added casually, loosening his tie as though we were discussing something ordinary, “let him visit his brother. Aiden’s surgery went well.”

Brother.

The word scraped against my ears like something corrosive. The ease with which he said it—almost proud—made my stomach turn.

He had mobilized everything overnight for Aiden. Called in favors, reached across territories, moved through every Alpha connection he had. But when Julian was dying, he had shut me out. Suspended my access. Blocked my calls. Left me to beg alone.

“I will,” I answered quietly.

Because there was nothing else left to say.

He walked past me without another glance.

I remained still long after he left, something dark and heavy settling deeper in my chest. The anger that had once burned now felt infinite—no longer sharp, but consuming.

The journey to Ashmoon Pack stretched for hours, though time barely registered to me. The urn rested in my lap the entire ride. I held it close, as if I could still feel Julian asleep against me the way he used to—his small body warm, his head tucked into my chest during long drives.

I wore black. Not as a choice, but as truth.

When the gates of Ashmoon Pack finally opened, something inside me shifted violently.

Memories rushed in all at once—running through these lands as a child, laughing with my brother, training under the watchful eyes of warriors who once treated me like family. I had left all of this behind for Cedric. For a life that turned into this.

The guards stiffened when I stepped out. Their attention dropped immediately to the urn in my hands. Shock rippled across their faces.

No one stopped me.

No one dared.

By the time I reached the main residence, I wasn’t surprised to find them already waiting.

My mother stood at the entrance, her hand covering her mouth. My father looked as though the ground beneath him had given way. And Cyrus—now Alpha Cyrus—stared at the urn like it might vanish if he blinked too long.

“Rosalie…” my mother whispered, broken.

I couldn’t trust my voice. So I stepped forward and placed the urn carefully on the table in the center of the hall.

“This is Julian,” I said.

Silence swallowed the room whole.

Then my mother collapsed into sobs. My father’s fists clenched until his knuckles went white. Cyrus stepped forward slowly, his voice low and shaking with restrained fury.

“What the fuck happened?”

So I told them everything.

The accident. Vivian behind the wheel. Cedric believing her without question. The hospital bills I couldn’t pay. The blocked calls. The rehabilitation center. Aiden. The bone marrow request. The betrayal before my wedding. The miscarriage I never even knew I had.

I didn’t cry once.

When I finished, the air felt suffocating.

Cyrus struck the table hard. “Winterfang will answer for this.”

My father’s Alpha presence surged, heavy and suffocating. “We will call a council. This is grounds for war.”

My mother wiped her tears away, her voice trembling with rage. “He let his own son die.”

War. Blood. Revenge.

For a fleeting moment, it almost felt right. Easy, even.

But I was too tired for war.

“I’m exhausted,” I said quietly.

All eyes turned to me.

“I don’t want a pack war.”

Cyrus frowned sharply. “Rosalie—”

“I’m going to divorce him,” I continued. “And I’ll deal with them myself.”

My father studied me carefully, as if searching for something unspoken. “What are you planning?”

I hesitated before answering.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, looking at them both. “For leaving. I should have listened. I should have married the Alpha of the Frostfang Pack instead of him.”

The memory tightened my throat.

Years ago, they had arranged a political union for me with the Alpha of the Frostfang Pack. Everyone called him a monster—cold, ruthless, inhuman in the way he ruled.

I had been young. Terrified. So I ran. I chose Cedric instead, thinking it was love.

“And now?” Cyrus asked more carefully.

I met his gaze.

“If he still agrees… I’ll marry him this time.”

My mother inhaled sharply.

“Rosalie, are you certain?” Cyrus pressed.

I nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward the cloudy sky beyond the window.

“I have a plan,” I said. “And if it means marrying the Frostfang Alpha, I’ll do it.”

For Julian. For the child I lost. For the version of myself I buried long ago.

“Please arrange a funeral for Julian,” I added. “On the final day, I’ll return—divorced.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then my father gave a single nod.

“We will honor him properly.”

For the first time since everything shattered, I felt something close to relief.

My son would finally be acknowledged.

I returned to Winterfang the next day.

The packhouse felt even colder than before, as if it had grown used to my absence already.

That afternoon, the mail arrived. Among the stack of documents was the envelope I had been waiting for.

Divorce papers.

Official. Final. Sealed.

I stared at the signature line where Cedric’s name sat beside mine.

Rosalie Ashbourne.

Not for long.

I folded the papers carefully and walked toward his office.

The door was slightly ajar. His voice carried from inside.

“Yes, I’ll go see Aiden after this,” he said. “Make sure he takes his medication.”

Always Aiden.

He ended the call and looked up when I entered.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently. “Make it quick. I’m heading out to see Aiden.”

I stayed silent for a moment, studying him.

The man who once promised me forever without hesitation could barely look at me now.

“This is a document from the rehabilitation center that needs your signature,” I said evenly, holding up the papers. “Just sign it quickly. I have to return it.”

He clicked his tongue. “Tsk. Give it here.”

I stepped forward and placed the papers on his desk.

He didn’t read them. Not a single line. He signed where I indicated without pause.

No questions. No hesitation. No care.

He pushed them back toward me.

“There,” he said. “Anything else?”

I picked them up and glanced at the ink drying across his name.

Alpha Cedric Ashbourne.

My soon-to-be ex-husband.

“No,” I said quietly. “That’s all.”

I turned and walked out, closing the door behind me.

He never realized what he had just signed.

He was too focused on being a father to the child of the woman he never truly let go of.