On the day of my wedding, I stood in front of the grand mirror in my bridal suite, dressed in an intricate white gown, my heart pounding with nervous excitement. Today, I would become Mrs. Amelia Vaughn, Luna of the Silvercrest Pack, and CEO alongside my soon-to-be husband, Beta Drake Vaughn.

But fate had other plans.

"Amelia… you need to see this," my best friend and maid of honor, Bianca, whispered urgently as she rushed into the room, her face pale.

"What is it?" I frowned, adjusting my veil.

Instead of answering, she shoved her phone into my hand. The screen displayed a live video—Drake’s live video. My stomach twisted as I tapped the play button, my heart already sensing disaster.

The scene on the screen made my blood run cold.

Drake stood in front of a lavishly decorated altar—not the one meant for our wedding—but at a different location. Beside him was a woman in a flowing white dress, her face all too familiar.

Melanie. His first mate. The woman who had supposedly rejected him years ago.

The guests in the background cheered as Drake dropped to one knee, gazing up at her with an expression of pure devotion.

"Melanie," he declared, his voice filled with emotion. "I should have chosen you from the start. I was a fool to let you go. Will you be my Luna, my wife, my everything?"

Tears welled up in my eyes, my breath catching in my throat.

Melanie gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh, Drake… Yes! A thousand times yes!"

The moment she said those words, the screen cut off, but I had seen enough.

A loud ringing filled my ears. My vision blurred, and the phone slipped from my trembling fingers.

Bianca caught me as my knees buckled. "Amelia, breathe!"

I forced air into my lungs, but it felt like I was suffocating. He’d chosen her. He’d abandoned me—humiliated me in front of everyone.

A knock sounded on the door.

I turned, expecting to see Drake rushing in with an explanation, but instead, it was my father, Alpha Donovan Sinclair. His expression was unreadable as he looked at me, then at the phone lying on the floor. He had seen it too.

I braced myself for his anger, for his disappointment. But instead, he walked up to me and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

"You will not shed another tear for that traitor," he said calmly, though his eyes burned with rage. "You are my daughter. You are strong. And you will rise above this."

I swallowed hard, willing my emotions into submission. "What do I do now?"

He squeezed my shoulder. "We move forward."

Two weeks later, the scandal had spread like wildfire. News articles called me the Jilted Luna, and social media was ruthless. My company stocks took a hit, and the pack was in turmoil.

I had locked myself away, too humiliated to step outside—until my father made a decision that would change my life forever.

"You need a new Beta, a mate," he announced over breakfast one morning. "A strong partner who will help you rebuild your reputation and protect our family’s legacy."

I sighed, pushing my untouched food around my plate. "I don’t need a man to fix my life, Dad."

He smirked. "I never said you did. But this one will change everything. He’s someone you should meet."

And that was how I met Othello.

Othello Marcellus was nothing like Drake. He was the opposite—patient, kind, and fiercely loyal. He never treated me like a fragile doll but instead challenged me, supported me, and, over time, became my closest confidant.

For three years, he pursued me relentlessly. Even when I ignored his advances, he never gave up. He was always there—whether it was fighting beside me in pack matters or simply making me laugh after a long day.

And somehow, without realizing it, I had fallen in love with him and we got married.

On our second anniversary as a married couple, I decided to surprise him with a gift—something meaningful, something that would show him how much he meant to me.

But instead, I was the one who received the biggest surprise.

That night, I walked into Othello’s office, carrying a bottle of wine and a small box wrapped in silver paper. I had planned to celebrate with him privately, just the two of us.

But as I stepped inside, I heard voices. Laughter. Conversations.

"Five years, man," the man chuckled. "Are you really in love with Amelia, or was it all for power?"

I frowned, pressing closer.

"Love?" He let out a low chuckle. "I married Amelia because it was the logical choice. Her family's wealth, her rank—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You think I was actually in love with her?"

My heart stopped.

Adrian laughed. "So, you’re telling me you’re still in love with Melanie? Even after she ran off with Drake?"

Othello didn’t deny it. Instead, he said the words that shattered me completely.

"I would have chosen Melanie’s mistress if she only let me…”

I didn’t realize I had dropped the gift box until I heard it hit the floor.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

I slammed the door shut behind me, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My mind screamed at me to pack my bags, to leave, to walk away from the life I had built with Othello.

But I couldn’t. I stood frozen in the middle of my bedroom, hands gripping the edges of my suitcase. The tears came fast, blurring my vision, and I let them fall.

I had been here before—heartbroken, betrayed—but this was different. This wasn’t a man leaving me at the altar. This was five years of my life, my love, my loyalty—shattered in an instant.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I was back in those moments—those precious moments I had convinced myself were real.

"Othello, are you serious?" I laughed breathlessly as we ran under the full moon, our wolves racing side by side through the thick forest.

He shifted back effortlessly, standing before me in his human form, silver eyes glowing with warmth. "Of course, I’m serious. A beautiful Luna has to keep up with her handsome mate, right?"

I shifted back as well, catching my breath, my heart pounding—not from the run, but from the way he looked at me. Like I was his world.

"You always do this," I teased, nudging him. "Challenge me, push me. What if I get tired of it one day?"

He smirked, pulling me close, lips grazing my forehead. "Then I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again."

I clutched my chest. Lies. All of it.

More memories crashed into me, unrelenting.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, his hands covering mine as we stood under the waterfall during the Wolf Moon. The cold water rushed around us, but I only felt the heat of his body pressed against mine.

"Why?" I asked, grinning.

"Because I have something for you."

I obeyed, and when I opened my eyes, he was holding a single white flower—small, delicate, yet somehow powerful.

"It’s called a Moon Tear," he murmured, tucking it behind my ear. "Rare. Just like you."

I laughed, shaking my head. "That’s so cheesy."

"Maybe. But it’s true."

Then he kissed me.

I let out a choked sob, fingers digging into the sheets. He made me feel like I was everything to him. And I had believed it.

But the worst memory—the one I had buried deep, refusing to acknowledge—came crashing down like a final blow.

I had been searching for my earrings, rifling through Othello’s wallet when I saw it. A small, white gold necklace with a wolf moon diamond pendant. I smiled, holding it up. "You kept my necklace?"

But when I turned to him, his face had darkened. In a flash, his hand had wrapped around my wrist, grip so tight it made me gasp.

"Take it off." His voice was low, dangerous.

I stared at him, confused. "Othello, what—"

"Now, Amelia."

I hesitated, and that was when I saw it—the raw fury in his eyes. The kind I had never seen before.

Fear coiled in my stomach. Slowly, I unclasped the necklace and set it down.

Just as quickly as his anger came, it vanished. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"I’m sorry," he muttered. "I didn’t mean to—"

But he had meant it. And now, I knew why. That necklace wasn’t mine. It was hers. Melanie’s.

—

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping at my tears. "How could I have been so blind?" All these years, I thought he had chosen me. I thought I had won. But I was just a replacement.

I stood up, my decision clear. I wasn’t going to be someone’s second choice. Not again. Not ever.

I cried myself to sleep that night. My pillow was soaked, my chest felt hollow, and my mind refused to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice.

"I married Amelia because it was the logical choice."

"You think I was actually in love with her?"

I curled into myself, gripping the blanket like it could hold me together. But nothing could. I had lost again.

Sometime in the middle of the night, my phone rang. Groggy and drained, I reached for it. The name on the screen made my stomach twist—Adrian. Othello’s friend.

I hesitated before answering. "What?" My voice was hoarse.

He sighed. "Pick up your husband."

My heart clenched. "No."

"Amelia, do you really want the media to get to him first?"

I shut my eyes. I hated this. Hated that even after everything, I still had to clean up after him.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed my coat and keys. When I arrived, Othello was a mess. Drunk, slumped against the bar counter, mumbling incoherently.

His friend helped me get him into the car. Othello reeked of alcohol, his shirt wrinkled, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

As I drove us home, his head lolled to the side, and then he whispered something that made my hands tighten around the steering wheel.

"Melanie..."

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my chest ached.

"Why did you leave me?" His voice cracked. "Why did you choose that scumbag Drake over me?"

I felt sick. I wanted to slap him, shake him, scream at him. But instead, I did what I always did. I stayed silent. I brought him home. I cleaned him up. I put him to bed. I sat beside him, watching him sleep, hating how much I still loved him. Even when he was breaking me.

The morning came, and when I finally opened my eyes, the bed was empty. The scent of food drifted into the room. I dragged myself out and found Othello in the kitchen, humming as he plated breakfast. Like nothing happened.

"Morning, love," he greeted, flashing me a soft smile. "Come eat."

I just stared at him. How could he be like this? How could he pretend everything was fine?

I didn't say a word as I sat down. I couldn't. I had nothing left to say. Othello, too busy making sure my plate was full, didn’t even notice my silence.

And then my eyes shifted, unwillingly landing on the small box and bouquet of flowers beside my plate.

"Happy 2nd anniversary," the note attached read. "I'm sorry I forgot to give you this yesterday. I'll make it up to you today."

I blinked, my fingers brushing over the ribbon on the box. The words were sweet, but they felt hollow. Cold. Like a bandage over a wound too deep to heal.

That was when his phone buzzed on the table beside me. A flash notification popped up on the screen.

I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t.

But my eyes betrayed me.

And what I saw made my blood run cold.

"Melanie’s husband is dead. She’s coming back. She’s looking for you."

I stopped breathing. The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the plate.

Othello finally looked at me. "You okay?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah. Just lost my appetite."

Because once again—Melanie had returned to ruin my life.

The moment Othello saw the message, his entire demeanor changed. He stood up from the table, grabbing his phone and dialing a number as he walked away. His voice was urgent, almost desperate. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

I watched him, numb, already knowing who he was talking to. Then he hung up and turned to me. "Pack duty. I have to go."

I let out a bitter smile. "Of course. Go ahead."

He hesitated for a moment, like he was about to say something else, but then he just nodded and left. No apology. No explanation.

As soon as the door shut behind him, I exhaled shakily and reached for my phone.

A year ago, we had both agreed to install a tracker on each other’s devices—something we laughed about, calling it a safety measure, a way to always find each other no matter what. I never thought I would actually need it.

But today, I did.

I opened the tracking app, my heart pounding as I watched his location update. He wasn’t going to the packhouse or his office.

He was going somewhere else.

My wolf growled inside me, seething with rage, but I swallowed the anger and grabbed my coat.

I parked a few streets away from the restaurant, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. Through the large glass windows, I saw them.

Othello and Melanie.

They were sitting in our favorite restaurant. The one we always went to for anniversaries, birthdays, even just casual date nights. The place where he once told me he loved me.

But today, he was sitting across from her.

Melanie was crying—dramatically, like she was in some tragic movie.

And my husband?

He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

I froze.

His hands, the same hands that held me, were now holding her. He whispered something in her ear, something that made her sob even harder.

And then—he kissed her forehead.

Just like he used to do to me. The way he comforted me. The way he loved me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced myself to stay still. To watch. To see just how much of a fool I had been.

I reached for my phone, my hands shaking. I dialed his number, holding onto the last sliver of hope that maybe—just maybe—I still mattered.

Inside the restaurant, I saw him glance at his phone. He didn’t even hesitate before he declined the call.

A text popped up instead.

"Pack meeting. Busy."

I let out a strangled laugh, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. Right. Of course.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm. He had made his choice. But I wasn’t done.

I followed them.

They had no idea I was trailing behind, keeping my distance as they left the restaurant together. The drive wasn’t long. My heart pounded harder with every turn they took.

And then—

They arrived at her house.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched from the shadows. Othello stepped out of his car first, opening the door for her, ever the gentleman.

Melanie looked up at him, her face filled with something I once believed was meant only for me.

And then it happened.

She grabbed his face and kissed him. Not just a kiss. A desperate, hungry kiss. And he kissed her back.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. But it wasn’t over.

Right there, in the doorway of her house, their hands started roaming. His lips trailed down her neck, and she arched against him, moaning softly.

I covered my mouth, biting down on my lip to stop the sob that threatened to escape. Othello lifted her up, carrying her inside as their mouths crashed together, filled with a passion I hadn’t seen from him in years.

And then—the door shut. Locking me out.

I stood there, motionless, as my world shattered all over again. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

All I could do was watch as my husband—the man who had sworn loyalty to me—devoured another woman in front of my eyes.