He Mocked His Costco Wife—She Owned the Whole Mall

"Smile for the camera, warehouse girl," Lola said, keeping her phone angled directly at my face. "Aaron wants to see how hard you are working today."

I shoved another thirty-pound box of frozen chicken onto the bottom shelf. The frost bit through my thin cotton gloves, numbing my fingertips.

"Seven days left," I muttered to myself, ignoring the red recording light on her screen.

"What was that?" Lola asked, stepping closer. Her expensive floral perfume smothered the smell of raw cardboard and frozen meat. "Did you say something, Selene? Speak up for your mate."

"Aisle four is being mopped," I said, flattening the empty box with a quick strike of my hand. "Watch your step."

Lola laughed, a sharp, grating sound that echoed down the cavernous aisle. She tapped her screen to stop recording. "You really have zero ambition. It is embarrassing. Aaron deserves a mate who can stand beside him in high society, not someone who smells like industrial bleach."

My phone buzzed in my apron pocket. I pulled the cracked device out.

The screen lit up with a notification from the family group chat. Aaron had just forwarded Lola's video.

Underneath the short clip, he typed a single sentence: My wife, the shame of the whole family.

A second later, a thumbs-up icon appeared beneath his text.

Dylan liked the message.

My thumb hovered over the shattered glass. My ten-year-old son, sitting in the elite academy I paid for with my blood and sweat, agreeing that I was trash. I locked the screen and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"Did you see it?" Lola asked, tilting her head. A cruel smile stretched across her glossy lips. "Aaron is so tired of defending you to his friends. He told me last night that he wishes he never marked you."

"Are you going to buy anything?" I asked, grabbing my box cutter from my belt. "Or are you just here to block my cart?"

"I am here to check on my investment," she replied smoothly. She swiped on her phone and held it out. "Look at this. I bought Dylan a custom tuxedo for tomorrow night. Silk lapels. Hand-stitched. He told me he has never worn anything so soft. He actually asked me if I could adopt him."

My grip tightened on the plastic handle of the box cutter. The blade stayed retracted, but the plastic groaned under the pressure of my fingers.

"He is allergic to shellfish," I said, slicing open a new crate of merchandise with one swift motion. "You fed him caviar this morning. Watch his throat."

Lola rolled her eyes, clearly bored by my warning. She turned her attention to Greg, the daytime shift manager, who was scurrying down the aisle with a clipboard clutched to his chest.

"Miss Brandt," Greg fawned, stopping a few feet away. He wiped his sweaty palms on his khaki pants. "Is everything alright? Do you need assistance finding anything in the store today?"

"No, Greg," Lola said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I was just telling Aaron's little dependent here to keep up the good work. By the way, I heard the news."

"News?" Greg asked, blinking rapidly.

"About the property," Lola said, her voice carrying down the aisle to make sure the other employees heard. "My father mentioned that this entire commercial block was acquired last week by a mysterious buyer. A massive cash deal."

My hand stopped mid-air. I kept my grip on the box cutter, but my knuckles turned completely white.

"Yes, ma'am," Greg nodded eagerly, eager to please the wealthy woman standing before him. "Corporate sent a memo yesterday. The new landlord is taking over all leases by the end of the month."

"Fascinating," Lola mused, glancing sideways at me. "I wonder if the new owner will keep the trash on the payroll, or if they will clean house. I know what I would do."

I set the heavy crate down. I aligned the edges perfectly with the shelf grid, making sure the barcode faced outward.

A mysterious buyer.

I knew exactly who signed that paperwork. My asset management team finalized the acquisition of this entire retail plaza six days ago. I owned the concrete Lola was currently standing on.

"Excuse me," I said, pushing my empty flatbed cart past her. "I have to clear the loading dock."

Lola stepped aside, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. "Keep stacking, Selene. I will see you around."

I pushed the cart through the heavy swinging doors into the back warehouse. The roar of the industrial fans instantly drowned out the chatter of the retail floor.

Seven days. I just had to survive seven more days without ripping her throat out.

I parked the cart against the concrete wall and pulled off my frozen gloves.

Deep inside my jeans pocket, my private encrypted phone began to vibrate.

It was not the cheap, cracked device I used to communicate with Aaron. This was the secure line, the one that linked directly to the high council.

I pulled it out and pressed it to my ear.

"Speak," I said.

"Heir," Mara said. My steward's voice was tight, completely stripped of her usual calm demeanor. "We have a severe problem."

"I told Theo I am not breaking my cover," I said, keeping my voice low as a forklift beeped past me. "I do not care what Garrett is planning."

"Garrett moved early," Mara interrupted. "He is not waiting for the final day of your trial."

I leaned against the cold cinderblock wall. "Explain."

"He knows the succession ceremony is in exactly one week. He wants to force you to embarrass yourself in public before the elders finalize the paperwork."

"How?"

"He is throwing a banquet," Mara said, the words rushing out fast. "A massive high-society event. He invited every major pack leader in the eastern and southern sectors."

"Aaron told me about a banquet yesterday," I said. "He bought a suit for it. Lola is hosting."

"Lola is the face of it," Mara corrected. "But Garrett orchestrated the guest list. He wants Aaron to formally introduce Lola as his new chosen mate in front of the entire high council."

My jaw locked. "Aaron is still legally bound to me."

"That is the point, Selene. They are going to publicly humiliate you. They want you to crash the party. They want you to lose your temper, shift, and attack Lola. If you use your alpha strength before midnight on the final day, the elders will declare your trial void."

"I will not crash their party," I said flatly. "I will stay right here and stock shelves."

"The elders are watching," Mara warned. "Garrett invited three of the oldest council members to this event. If they look out the window and see the true heir pushing shopping carts in the parking lot while her mate parades a mistress around, they will question your strength."

"They will see a wolf completing her trial," I countered.

"You do not understand," Mara said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You do not have to travel to crash it."

"What do you mean?"

"The location," Mara said. "Garrett booked the venue under a shell corporation. I just cracked the ledger."

I stood up straight, my boots planted firmly on the dusty concrete.

"Where is the banquet, Mara?"

"It is in the VIP lounge," she said. "Directly above your store. Tomorrow."