My Mate Dress Me As A Donkey To Please His Lover

Daniel was thrilled. "Hannah, no take-backs! I'm setting it up now!"

I lowered my eyes. "I won't back out."

The competition was in Westron Town, a laid-back place. I planned to settle there after the event. I went to the pack's migration office to start the process, which would take a month. I booked a ticket to leave then.

Meanwhile, social media shoved Derek's latest post in my face: a photo of me, humiliated in that donkey costume, next to Brittany's radiant glamour shot.

His caption read: She's the one who has my heart.

I stared at the screen, remembering how Derek once favored me-in his warped way.

He'd chase off my bullies but lash out at me with cruel words. He claimed me as his but molded me into the pack's despised lapdog. He'd share his secrets yet guard himself against me and Mom.

At eighteen, I naively thought Derek was just a lost pup I could save with love. Then Brittany returned, and one drunken night, he confessed, "Brittany, I miss you so much." It hit me: I was just her stand-in. The spark I felt when he bared his soul to me turned to ash.

Expressionless, I blocked them both and called a ride back to the villa to pack. The moment I walked in, Derek was there, his face dark, tossing a check at me.

"Ten million. Compensation for you and your mom."

"I'll tell the pack your mom's depression led to her suicide. The Sullivans are clear."

I laughed bitterly. What was this? Hush money from a killer? I tore the check to shreds and headed upstairs.

Derek grabbed my wrist, hard. "You made Brittany cry, Hannah. You think you get to throw a tantrum? Ten million not enough?"

He flung a stack of cash at my face, the bills stinging my cheek. "Money? The Sullivans have plenty. But you, thinking you could be my mate? Not a chance."

I met his furious eyes calmly. "Derek, I never wanted to be your mate. And Mom never wanted your father's bond."

His rage twisted into a mocking laugh. "You think your mom's death means I've got nothing on you? You'll regret this."

He stormed out, slamming the door.

The next day, reporters swarmed me outside.

"Hannah, is it true your mom was a homewrecker?"

"Did you sabotage Derek's bond with the Kane pack's she-wolf?"

"Did your mom kill herself out of shame for being caught cheating?"

Their venomous questions pierced like claws. I realized then: Mom, alive or dead, was my weakness. Derek was still dragging her name through the mud to control me.

I dodged the reporters and raced to the enforcers' station to report it, but no one would touch my case. A patrol dog chased me off, and I fell, bruising my arm. As the lies about Mom grew uglier, I called Derek.

Half an hour later, I was back in that bar, lights flashing, the dance floor a blur of hedonism. Derek lounged in the center, eyeing me like prey. "Two choices: keep being my donkey, or I make sure your mom's restless even in the afterlife."

My heart tore, but I couldn't break from him yet. I had to escape. Biting back humiliation, I nodded. "I'll do what you say. Just keep your promise and kill the rumors."

His smile was faint. "Show me your sincerity. Kneel to Brittany, apologize, and I'll let this slide."

My nails dug into my palms, pain dulled by despair. I walked to Brittany and dropped to my knees with a thud, my voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worn the same dress, stolen your spotlight, made you upset for days. Please forgive me."