EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET: DIVORCED AND CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

Niamh' s POV My cheap black flats were so worn out that I could feel every sharp stone on the driveway right through the sole. I was married to a billionaire CEO but couldn't even afford decent flats. My shift at the diner finished half an hour late because a big group of twelve people showed up just as we were closing. My manager knew I needed the money, so he made me stay. I was beyond exhausted that by the time I finally reached the porch of the huge house I lived in, my legs were ready to disintegrate into dust. A storm was rolling up ahead as thunder rumbled in the distance, causing the wind to whip my hair. I pushed through the heavy oak door just as the rain threatened to start. The silent house smelled of lilies and wax; a familiar, lonely scent. None of my coworkers would ever believe I was married to a billionaire CEO. I walked toward the living room, hoping to find Marcus so I could tell him about my day; not that he ever really listened. I just wanted to feel like I wasn't a ghost in my own marriage, at least for tonight. I found him in the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, perfectly composed, with his mother, Evelyn, sitting in the armchair opposite him. They looked like they were holding a board meeting. And on the mahogany coffee table was a stack of papers. My heart skipped a beat. "Marcus?" I called, my voice sounding small in the high-ceilinged room. "What's going on?" He didn't look up from the latest iPad in his hands. "Sit down." "I'm actually really tired, I just got off my shift..." "I said sit," he repeated. His voice was cold and clipped. I went to sit down, the greasy feeling from the diner clinging to my skin. It made me feel even more out of place among all the white silk and gold in the room. I looked down at the papers, and the word DIVORCE leaped out at me in big, black letters. "I don't get it," I whispered. I searched Marcus's face, looking for any signs of the kind man I had married two years ago. "Is this a joke?" "Don't be dramatic," Evelyn snapped, her voice dripping with hate. She smoothened her designer skirt, looking at me with pure disgust. "You've been a guest in this house for two years, Niamh. A charity project that has finally run its course." "A charity project?" I stared at Marcus, appalled. "Marcus, tell me what's going on. We've been married for two years! I've done everything for you. I've stood by you, I've managed this house, and I've been a good wife while you built your business..." A sharp sting hit my face before I could catch it. It was a slap. The blow was so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side, and for a second, all I could see were white spots. I touched my face, my fingers trembling, and looked up to see Evelyn standing over me, her eyes narrow and hateful. "Do not raise your voice at my son," she hissed. "You are an orphan who only got married to my son because he pitied you. You should be thanking us for the clothes on your back, not demanding explanations." "I worked for these clothes!" I cried out, the tears finally starting to fall. "I tried to get a real job, Marcus! I sent out hundreds of resumes. I have the qualifications, but no one would even call me back for an interview. I took that waitress job because I didn't want to be a burden!" Marcus set his iPad down. A slow, cruel smirk spread across his face as he finally looked at me. "Niamh, you really are slow," he said, shaking his head like I am a lost cause. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Did you honestly think it was just bad luck? I own half the companies you applied to, and I know the CEOs of the other half. I made phone calls. I told them you were...not skilled enough. I made sure no HR department in this city would touch you." The room felt like it was spinning. "Why? Why would you do that to me?" "Because a woman like you is easier to manage when she has nothing," he said, his voice completely flat. "If you had a career, you'd have opinions. I wanted a wife who knew her place. But even then, you failed at the one thing you were actually kept here for." "And what was that?" I asked, my voice breaking. "An heir," a high, mocking voice came from the winding staircase. I looked up and saw Chloe. She was the daughter of Marcus's business partner, a woman I'd always thought was too friendly with my husband. She was draped in a green silk robe. A robe I usually wore to bed. And she was clutching a glass of red wine. "Let's be real, Niamh," Chloe said, walking down the stairs with a confident sway of her hips. "A billionaire needs a son to carry on the name. You've had two years, and your womb is as empty as your bank account, as empty as your existence. You're barren. Honestly, can you even call yourself a woman if you can't do the one thing nature intended?" "Sign them. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir," Marcus ordered without defending me. "I've already had your things packed into two suitcases. They're by the back door. If you sign now, I'll let you keep the tips you made today. If you don't, I'll make sure the diner fires you by tonight. You'll be on the street with nothing." I looked at the man I had loved and thought that loved me back. So ironic that it took Marcus divorcing me to make me realize that he had never loved me at all With shaky hands, I grabbed the pen and scrawled my name on the lines he pointed to. "I'm leaving," I announced in a tired voice, standing up. My legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to walk with the last shred of dignity I had left. "Don't forget your bags, dear," Evelyn called out mockingly. "Though I'm sure the thrift store will appreciate them." I didn't take the bags. I didn't want anything they had touched. I walked out the door with nothing but my uniform and the twelve dollars in my pocket. The moment the door closed behind me, the sky broke. The rain poured down hard, as if crying with me. Instantly, I became soaked and drenched from head to toe. The wind picked up, blowing my hair into my face as I started the long walk down the driveway. I didn't have a car because Marcus always insisted on driving me, which was his way of controlling where I went. I didn't have a phone either because I was saving up to replace my old one and I didn't have any friends. I was a freshman dropout when I met Marcus. Mom had just passed, leaving me with debts that Marcus later cleared. I walked for what felt like miles, my wet shoes rubbing my feet raw. My mind kept replaying the past two years; the meals I'd cooked, the nights I'd waited up for him, the love I thought we had. Marcus had hated me the whole time. How was I blind to it? The rain continued to pour heavily but I didn't care. I ventured into a road that was hardly trespassed. The road was dark, surrounded by thick woods. I was so exhausted and heartbroken that my legs finally gave out. I tripped over a rock and landed hard on the wet grass. "Please," I sobbed, burying my face in my hands. "I can't do this anymore," I cried into the rain. I tried to push myself up, but my hand hit something solid. It was warm. I crawled forward, squinting my eyes through the dark. A man was lying face-down in the wet grass. He was huge, and bigger than anyone I'd ever seen, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. His back was covered in deep, ugly cuts that were bleeding into the dirt and mixing with the rain. "Hey!" I yelled over the rain. "Are you okay?" I reached out and touched his shoulder. His skin felt like it was on fire even with all the rain pouring. I leaned over him, trying to see if he was still breathing. "Oh my god," I breathed, my own problems momentarily forgotten. "Hey! Can you hear me?" "Please be alive," I whispered, leaning over him, my hair dripping water onto his face. "Please don't die out here." Suddenly, a massive hand shot out and grabbed me by the neck. It happened so fast I didn't even have time to scream. The man in the mud rolled over, pinning me beneath him in the mud with a speed that defied his injuries. I looked up, and my breath hitched. His eyes were wide and glowing a fierce, molten amber in the darkness. He wasn't looking at me like a man in need of help. He didn't look like he needed any assistance but his face contorted into pain as he stared at me, as if I was the reason for his pain. Maybe he was having delusions from his injuries. I tried to speak but then he opened his mouth and beast-like teeth appeared. Before I could even think to scream, he lunged for me and his mouth crashed against mine, shutting me up with a rough kiss.