After My Mate Chose His Omega Over Me

I stop working.

It's that simple, really. On Monday morning, I don't open my laptop. I don't review the quarterly reports stacked on my desk. I don't answer the mind-links from Beta Marcus about the delayed shipment schedules or the unpaid invoices piling up in accounts receivable.

Instead, I sit in the window seat of my quarters—our quarters, though Arthur hasn't slept here in three nights—and watch the morning sun paint gold across the training grounds I designed. My tea grows cold in my hands.

The first crack appears by Tuesday.

The usual gourmet breakfast spread on the Alpha floor—imported cheeses, fresh pastries from that bakery in Portland, organic fair-trade coffee—is replaced with standard pack rations. Oatmeal. Powdered eggs. The cheap stuff we buy in bulk for the lower-ranking wolves.

I hear Arthur's roar from three floors down. "What the hell is this?"

The omega server's terrified voice carries through the ventilation system. "S-sorry, Alpha. The supplier said our account is past due. They won't deliver until—"

"Then pay them!"

"Luna Taytum always handles the payments, Alpha. The access codes—"

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. My wolf perks up, anticipating confrontation, but I keep my expression serene as Arthur bursts through the door without knocking.

"What's going on with the accounts?" His Alpha aura fills the room, that commanding presence that used to make my heart race. Now it just feels... small. Like a child throwing a tantrum. "The food service, the utility companies—they're all claiming we're behind on payments."

I take a delicate sip of my cold tea. "Are we?"

"How would I know? You handle all that!" He runs his hand through his hair, frustration crackling off him in waves. "Just fix it, Taytum. I don't have time for this administrative nonsense. The territory expansion—"

"I'm afraid I can't." I set down my cup with careful precision. "I've been under so much stress lately. Migraines, exhaustion. I think I need to rest for a while."

His jaw clenches. "Rest? Now? We're in the middle of critical negotiations!"

"Perhaps Livia could help." I meet his eyes, watching for any flicker of guilt. There's none. Just irritation. "She's always so eager to assist you."

Something shifts in his expression—calculation replacing anger. "Livia's just an omega. She doesn't have access to—"

"Then give her access." I lean back against the cushions, projecting weakness I don't feel. "I'm sure she's more than capable. After all, she seems to have your complete confidence these days."

He stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder if he suspects. But his arrogance wins out. "Fine. I'll have Marcus set her up with the accounts. You just... rest."

The door slams behind him.

By Wednesday, the training center goes dark. Missed payment to the power company. The hot water in the communal showers runs cold. The high-speed internet—essential for our security monitoring systems—gets disconnected.

I watch from my window as chaos ripples through the pack. Warriors complaining. Omegas gossiping. Beta Marcus running himself ragged trying to plug holes in a sinking ship while Livia sits in my old office, clicking uselessly through financial systems she doesn't understand.

Thursday afternoon, Arthur appears again. This time, he's different. Desperate.

"The Moonlight Gathering is tomorrow night." He doesn't quite meet my eyes. "I need you there."

"I'm not feeling well—"

"I don't care." His Alpha tone cracks through the room, but it slides off me like water. He doesn't know what I am. What I've always been. "We need to secure new investors. The Royal Grant is... delayed. You're still Luna. You'll attend, and you'll smile, and you'll help me close these deals."

I let silence stretch between us before nodding slowly. "What should I wear?"

Relief floods his features. "Something modest. Professional. Don't draw attention." He pauses at the door. "And Taytum? Don't embarrass me."

After he leaves, I pull out my phone and open a very specific shopping app. Not for myself—I already have the perfect dress hanging in my closet, the one I've been saving.

No, I'm checking the pack's credit card transactions. The one Arthur thinks I don't monitor anymore.

There it is: a $3,000 charge at an upscale boutique downtown. Time-stamped two hours ago. I click through to see the purchase details—a designer gown in Livia's size.

My wolf laughs, dark and satisfied.

I make one call to my father's financial manager. "The credit line attached to account ending in 4739. Close it. Effective immediately."

"Consider it done, Princess."

Tomorrow night, Livia's new dress will be declined at pickup. And I'll be at the Moonlight Gathering with my recording device, my enhanced Lycan hearing, and absolutely nothing left to lose.

Let the real games begin.