Elena POV

Victoria's presence wasn't merely an invasion anymore; it was a full-scale occupation.

Her lipstick staked its claim on the bathroom counter in the master suite. Her coat hung on the rack by the door, arrogantly displacing mine to the floor. Her voice echoed in the hallways where silence had once been my only, and preferred, companion.

I sat at the far end of the dining table. It was a ridiculous expanse of mahogany, stretching out like a barren wasteland between my world and theirs.

Damien sat at the head, cutting his steak with precise, brutal motions. Victoria sat to his right, her chair pulled so close their elbows brushed with every intimate sip of wine.

"The garden needs replanting," Victoria announced, swirling the crimson liquid in her glass. "Those hydrangeas are dreadfully boring. I was thinking of Moonflowers. To match my scent."

Damien chewed, swallowed, and nodded mechanically. "Whatever you want, Victoria. Talk to the gardener."

He didn't even glance in my direction.

The hydrangeas were my mother's favorite. I had planted them with my own hands three years ago, digging into the earth until my fingernails were black with soil.

"Elena doesn't mind, do you?" Victoria asked, her eyes glinting with a sharp, performative sweetness.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin, stifling the grimace of pain that shot through my lower back. "I have work to finish," I said, standing up.

"Always working," Victoria sighed, feigning sympathy. "Marcus used to say that a woman's work is the home. God, I miss him."

Damien's fork clattered violently against his plate.

Mentioning his dead brother was Victoria's ultimate weapon. It was the morbid tether that bonded them-a shared shrine of grief that had no room for the living wife.

I walked out of the dining room before I could hear Damien murmur his comforts to her.

Later that night, the pain in my back shifted. It coiled around my abdomen like a tightening vice.

I was in my room-the guest room I had been exiled to months ago-trying to pack a bag without making a sound.

The door creaked open.

I froze, shoving a stack of tiny knitted onesies under a pillow just as the light from the hallway spilled in.

Damien stood in the doorway. He looked haggard. The top button of his shirt was undone, his tie hanging loose like a noose. He stepped inside, and instantly, the room felt suffocatingly small.

"You left dinner early," he said. It wasn't an accusation, merely a cold observation.

"I wasn't hungry," I lied.

He moved closer. I could smell the rich oak of the wine on his breath, clashing nauseatingly with the lingering, sickly-sweet perfume of Moonflower. My stomach churned.

"You've been distant," he murmured, reaching out to touch my arm. His fingers were warm, and for a split second, my body betrayed my mind. A shiver ran down my spine-a muscle memory of the desire I used to feel for him.

Then, a sharp cramp seized my uterus with a vengeance.

I gasped, doubling over, clutching my stomach.

"Elena?" Damien's voice sharpened. "What is it?"

"Nothing," I wheezed, backing away from him as if he were the source of the pain. "Just... cramps."

He frowned, looking at me with a mix of confusion and suspicion. He reached for his phone. "I'll call the doctor."

"No!" I shouted, the panic rising too quickly in my throat. "I'm fine. Just go."

His phone buzzed before he could dial. He looked at the screen, and his expression softened instantly, the tension leaving his shoulders.

"It's Victoria," he said, already turning toward the door. "She's having a panic attack about the renovation."

He didn't look back. He didn't ask if I was okay. He chose a panic attack about paint swatches over his wife doubling over in agony.

I sank onto the bed, waiting for the contraction to pass. When my breathing finally steadied, I saw it.

On the nightstand.

My travel documents. I had been careless in my haste. And right on top, the new ID card.

The door opened again. Damien had come back for his jacket.

His eyes landed on the papers.

He walked over, picking up the ID card. He read the name out loud. "Elena Sterling." Then he looked at the flight itinerary. "One way? To Zurich?"

The air was sucked out of the room.

"What is this, Elena?" His voice was low, vibrating with a dangerous frequency. "Planning a vacation without telling your Alpha?"

I stood up, using the bedpost to keep my legs from buckling. "It's not a vacation, Damien."

He stepped closer, looming over me like a storm front. "You think you can just leave? You represent this family. You carry the Sterling name."

"That name is a noose," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "And I'm taking it off."

"You're being dramatic," he scoffed, tossing the ID back onto the table dismissively. "Cancel the flight. We have the pack gala next week. You need to be there."

"It has nothing to do with you," I said, my voice turning cold. "My life has nothing to do with you anymore."

He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. "Everything you do has to do with me. You are my-"

"Damien!" Victoria's voice shrieked from down the hall. "Damien, come quick!"

He dropped my wrist as if it burned him. He looked at me, then at the door, torn for a fraction of a heartbeat.

Then he ran. He ran to her.

I rubbed my wrist where his fingers had left red marks. I picked up a black marker from the desk.

With a trembling hand, I took the travel document. I stared at the word "Luna" listed under my title.

I drew a thick, black line through it, obliterating the rank.

Then I wrote, in bold, jagged letters:

MS.

He thought he had caught me. He thought he had stopped me. But all he had done was prove exactly why I had to vanish tonight.

Elena POV

Three days later, I accepted the job offer in Zurich.

It was a consulting position for my father's old firm, something far away from pack politics and moonlit betrayals.

My room was a graveyard of memories. I packed boxes with ruthless efficiency.

The crystal vase he gave me for our first anniversary? Into the trash.

The dress I wore when he marked me? Straight to the donation pile.

I held the ring in my palm. The Sterling family crest was engraved on the gold band. It felt heavy, like a shackle.

I walked to the fireplace in the main hall. The fire was roaring, devouring the oak logs. I tossed the ring into the flames.

I didn't watch it melt. I just watched it disappear.

"My part is over," I whispered to the reflection in the mirror above the mantle. I looked pale, dark circles bruising the skin under my eyes, but my jaw was set.

I was supposed to leave in the morning. A car was arranged.

But fate, it seemed, possessed a cruel sense of humor.

"The Alpha requests your presence," a Beta guard said, standing at my door. His stance made it clear he wasn't asking.

"I'm busy," I said, not looking up from my suitcase.

"Now, Luna."

I was forced into the backseat of a black SUV. The ride to the main estate was bumpy, and with every jolt, a dull ache radiated through my lower back.

I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, trying to visualize the Swiss Alps.

Just a few more hours, I told myself. Just hold on.

Then, the water broke.

It wasn't a trickle. It was a gush of warm fluid soaking the seat.

Cold, sharp panic pierced through my numbness. It was too early. Two months too early.

"Stop the car," I gasped.

The Beta looked in the rearview mirror. "We are almost there, Luna."

"I said stop!"

A contraction hit me then, so violent it tore a scream from my throat. The car swerved, then screeched to a halt in front of the main house.

The door was ripped open. Not by Damien, but by a frantic medical team.

"She's in labor!" someone shouted.

I was wheeled onto a gurney, the world tilting sideways. The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire consuming my abdomen.

"Get Damien," I choked out, grabbing a nurse's scrub. "Tell him... tell him..."

They wheeled me into the hallway. And there he was.

Damien stood at the end of the corridor. But he wasn't looking at me. He was holding Victoria's hand.

She was leaning against the wall, clutching her stomach, crying softly.

"It's time, Damien," she sobbed. "I think the baby is coming."

He was stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort I couldn't hear.

"Alpha!" the nurse pushing me yelled. "The Luna is-"

Damien looked up. His eyes met mine for a fleeting second. I saw confusion. I saw shock.

But then Victoria let out a high-pitched wail, sinking to her knees.

Damien's gaze snapped back to her. He scooped her up into his arms, turning his back on me.

"Get the best doctors for Victoria!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. "Now!"

I was pushed into a side room. A storage room hastily converted into a temporary triage.

Rain lashed against the window, sounding like gravel being thrown at the glass. I was alone. The primary medical team had run after Damien and Victoria.

I was left with a young intern and a terrified nurse.

"I can't do this," I sobbed, clutching the rails of the bed.

"You have to," the nurse said, her voice shaking. "The baby is coming."

I looked at the door. It remained closed.

He chose her. In the moment of life and death, he chose her.

The realization didn't just hurt. It killed. It killed the last tiny, stupid part of me that hoped he would save me.

I screamed as another contraction ripped through me, my voice joining the thunder outside.

I was alone in the storm, and I had no compass, no shelter, and no Alpha.

Elena POV

The pain wasn't just a sensation; it was a predator, tearing me apart from the inside out.

"Don't push yet!" the young intern stammered, his hands shaking violently as he adjusted the screaming monitors. "The doctor... the doctor is coming."

"They aren't coming," I gritted out, the salt of sweat and tears stinging my eyes. "They're with her."

The door banged open. I surged with a pathetic flicker of hope, thinking maybe, just maybe, Damien had remembered me.

But it was just the Beta, Marcus. He looked ill at ease, holding a clipboard like a shield against the scene before him.

"The Alpha needs you to sign this," he said, studiously avoiding my gaze. "It's a liability waiver for the medical procedure. Since... since resources are split."

I laughed. It was a wet, ragged sound that scraped my throat. "Liability? I'm dying, and he's worried about a lawsuit?"

"He's worried about the heir," Marcus mumbled, his voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.

"Which one?" I spat.

Marcus didn't answer. He just held out the clipboard, his jaw tight.

I grabbed the pen. My hand was shaking so hard I could barely maintain my grip. But I didn't sign the waiver. Instead, I reached into my bag, which had been carelessly thrown onto the chair beside the bed.

I pulled out the envelope. The one I had prepared weeks ago.

"Give this to him," I gasped, shoving the envelope at Marcus.

"What is it?"

"The end," I whispered.

Another contraction hit, and my vision went white. Through the haze, I heard the commotion outside in the hallway-a sound that shattered my remaining heart.

"It's a boy!" someone cheered. "Victoria has a healthy boy!"

The sound of applause. Joy. Celebration.

While I lay in a cold room, bleeding onto industrial hospital sheets.

"Marcus," I grabbed the Beta's arm, my nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood. "Get a witness. Now."

He looked at me, really looked at me, and I saw the conflict warring with pity in his eyes. Finally, his wolf yielded. He nodded and pulled a terrified nurse forward.

"I, Elena Sterling, declare my bond with Alpha Damien severed," I rasped, the ancient words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I reject his protection. I reject his name. I reject his heart."

The air in the room seemed to snap audibly. A physical pressure released from my chest, leaving a gaping, hollow hole behind.

I signed the document. Elena Sterling. Not Luna. Not wife. Just me.

"It takes seven days to finalize," Marcus said quietly, taking the paper with trembling fingers. "You know the law."

"I won't be here in seven days," I said.

The intern shouted, "BP is crashing! She's hemorrhaging!"

The world started to go dark at the edges. The sounds of the celebration down the hall faded into a dull, mocking buzz.

I saw Damien in my mind's eye. Not the cold Alpha, but the man who once put a jacket over my shoulders by the lake. He had touched my hair then. He had smiled.

Why didn't you love me? I asked the ghost of him.

Then the darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, the room was silent. The storm had passed.

I was alive.

But I felt lighter. Emptier.

I looked at the nurse. She was wiping blood from the floor.

"My baby?" I asked, my voice a broken whisper.

She stopped wiping. She didn't turn around.

"Beta Marcus took care of everything," she said. Her voice was flat, professional, detached.

I closed my eyes.

"Damien?" I asked.

"He's with the new heir," she said.

I nodded against the pillow.

"Good," I whispered. "Because he doesn't have a wife anymore."

I reached for the phone on the bedside table. My fingers were numb, but I dialed the number I had memorized a lifetime ago.

"Dad," I said when the line clicked open.

Silence stretched for a heartbeat before I finished.

"Come get me."