After My Alpha Rejected Me for His Mistress

The Apex Lycan Holdings tower dominated the Manhattan skyline, its glass façade reflecting the morning sun like a beacon of power. I adjusted my charcoal Armani suit as the elevator ascended to the top floor, my reflection in the polished doors showing a woman transformed. Gone was the faded Luna of the Silverfang Pack. In her place stood someone new—someone with eyes that glowed silver when my wolf stirred beneath the surface.

"Ms. Simmons," Marcus Sterling greeted me as the doors opened. Barrett's Beta was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his posture military-precise. "Alpha King Barrett is waiting for you."

I followed him through a corridor of glass and steel, my heels clicking with purpose. The scent of cedar and expensive whiskey grew stronger with each step—Barrett's signature aroma, intoxicating to my heightened senses.

"He's been looking forward to this meeting," Marcus said quietly. "Not many people catch the Alpha King's personal attention."

The double doors at the end of the corridor opened to reveal an office that seemed to float above Manhattan. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but it was the man standing before them that commanded my attention.

Barrett Clark turned slowly, his presence filling the room without effort. Tall, with broad shoulders and an aura that pulsed with ancient power, he was everything a Lycan monarch should be.

"Grace Simmons," he said, his voice deep and controlled. "I've been expecting you."

Something in his tone made my wolf stir, a recognition that transcended our first meeting.

"Alpha King Barrett," I replied, extending my hand. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

He took my hand, his grip firm but not dominating. A spark of something electric passed between us—professional respect, perhaps, or something more primal.

"Please, call me Barrett." His eyes studied me with calculated interest. "We have more history than you might realize."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Your father was one of my earliest mentors," he said, gesturing to a leather chair across from his desk. "James Simmons taught me more about pack politics and leadership than any formal training could have."

The mention of my father sent a wave of emotion through me. "I didn't know you knew him."

"Your father was a visionary," Barrett continued, taking his seat. "He believed in strengthening all packs, not just his own. It's why I remembered his family's territory when the opportunity arose."

I leaned forward slightly. "And now you've given his daughter the means to start over."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I simply honored the value of the land. What you've done with it... that's entirely your own doing."

For the next hour, we discussed business opportunities, my background, and my plans for the future. With each exchange, Barrett's respect seemed to grow, his questions becoming more pointed, more personal.

"You have a remarkable mind for strategy," he observed, leaning back in his chair. "Most Lunas focus solely on pack dynamics."

"I've had thirty years to observe how power works," I replied. "And three weeks to learn how to wield it myself."

Something shifted in the air between us—a tension that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way his eyes tracked my movements, the way my wolf responded to his proximity.

"There are dangers in sudden wealth," Barrett said suddenly. "Especially for someone who's been... vulnerable."

The word hung between us, loaded with meaning.

"Christian won't stop hunting for my money," I admitted. "He believes it belongs to the pack."

"Does it?" Barrett asked, his gaze intense.

"No." The word came out sharper than intended. "I earned this through my maiden family's legacy. Not through him."

Barrett nodded slowly. "Then you need protection. And resources."

"I need allies," I corrected.

He stood abruptly, his decision made. "Marcus will connect you with our top forensic accountants. If Christian has been hunting your money, there's likely more to his story than meets the eye."

Within hours, Marcus had assembled a team of Lycan financial specialists in a conference room at Apex Holdings. I watched as they dissected Christian's finances with surgical precision.

"Here," the lead accountant said, pointing to a document on the screen. "This is a loan agreement for seventy million dollars."

My blood ran cold. "From where?"

"Rogue syndicates," Marcus replied grimly. "The most dangerous kind."

The accountant zoomed in on the signature at the bottom of the document. "This isn't your signature, Ms. Simmons."

I stared at the forgery of my handwriting, rage building inside me like a storm. "He used my name to borrow from rogues?"

"Worse," Marcus said quietly. "He used your name to shield himself from the consequences."

My wolf snarled within me, her fury matching my own. Christian hadn't just rejected me—he'd put me in danger.

"We need more," I said, my voice steady despite the rage coursing through me. "I want everything they can find."

As the team worked through the night, uncovering layer after layer of Christian's deception, I realized that my newfound power wasn't just about wealth or status.

It was about justice.

And Christian Hawkins was about to learn exactly what that meant.