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Rejected by My Fated Alpha Novel Cover

Rejected by My Fated Alpha

Four years into our mate bond, Gregory, the Alpha of the White Pack, took me on a run through the dense forests near our territory. It was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to remind ourselves of the bond we once shared. But that night, he left me alone in the woods to pick up Amaris, a Delta from our pack, from the airport. A sudden storm rolled in, and as I tried to make my way back to the packhouse, I slipped and broke my leg. I don’t know how many times I mind-linked Gregory before he finally answered. “Adele, can’t you stop calling? It’s just a bit of rain. Can’t you stay in the clearing?” Amaris’s voice echoed in my mind, her tone dripping with mockery. “The sky looks crystal clear; where’s the rain?” I shot back, my voice trembling with pain and frustration. “Don’t mind her; she’s always so dramatic,” Gregory interjected, his tone dismissive.
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Chapter 2

Gregory didn’t come home last night.

As I sat at the kitchen island, sipping my coffee, I absently scrolled through my phone. My finger paused when I saw Amaris’ latest post. The picture showed her snuggling with Whiskers, her head resting on Gregory’s shoulder, a lavish spread of breakfast dishes spread across the table. The caption read: *"Family breakfast at the cool spot!"*

My jaw tightened. I immediately opened her profile, unfollowed her, and blocked her. When Amaris had first joined the White Pack, she’d approached me, claiming she was new to the city and didn’t have many friends. She’d asked me to show her around, and I’d agreed—partly to keep Gregory happy, partly because I’d felt sorry for her. But since then, she’d made it a habit to post pictures with Gregory, each one sparking arguments between us.

Now that I’d decided to divorce Gregory, there was no reason to keep Amaris in my life. I didn’t need her constant reminders of Gregory’s infidelity.

The front door opened just as I was finishing my coffee. Gregory walked in, a takeout bag in his hand. I recognized the logo—it was from the same upscale breakfast spot Amaris had posted about.

“I brought you breakfast,” he said, his tone casual. “Didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

I set my cup down and glanced at the bag. “Let me guess. Leftovers packed up for me?”

His expression darkened instantly. “Adele, I thought that since you didn’t call me last night, you were finally starting to understand. But it seems you’re still as unreasonable as ever.”

In the past, if Amaris called him away late at night, I’d check in, asking when he’d be back. But last night, I’d turned off my phone and hadn’t called him once.

“Am I wrong?” I asked, my voice steady.

Gregory hesitated, his eyes flickering away from mine. He tossed the bag onto the counter. “Eat it or forget it.”

I wasn’t bothered by his attitude. Instead, my gaze caught on a faint mark on his neck—a small, crescent-shaped bruise just above his collar.

“What happened to your neck?” I asked, my tone deliberately light.

Gregory’s hand flew to his neck, rubbing it vigorously. “Must’ve been bitten by something while helping Amaris find her cat.”

I didn’t press further, and Gregory visibly relaxed. He disappeared into the bedroom, changed clothes, and returned a few minutes later. He sat down next to me, his posture casual, and handed me a small gift box.

“Open it,” he said. “See if you like it.”

I unwrapped the box to find a delicate bracelet inside. I recognized it immediately—it was part of a set, usually sold alongside a matching necklace from a high-end brand. Gregory had bought the set, but only the bracelet was here. It wasn’t hard to guess where the necklace had ended up.

I set the bracelet on the counter without a word.

“Want me to help you put it on?” Gregory asked, his tone softening.

“No,” I replied coolly. “It’s inconvenient on my wrist.”

Gregory rarely gave me gifts, and in the past, I’d been thrilled whenever he did. This bracelet was supposed to be for our fourth anniversary, but during a summer getaway, he’d been called away by Amaris before he could give it to me.

Clearly, my indifference was starting to irritate him.

“If you don’t like it,” he said, forcing a smile, “once your leg’s better, I’ll take you to the boutique to pick something else.”

I was surprised by his patience, but his next words explained it.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his tone shifting to something more ingratiating, “about the Westside project—can you pull some strings for me? If I can secure it, it’ll be a huge win for the pack. I’ll get recognition from the Alpha Council, maybe even a seat at the table.”

I looked at him, my expression unreadable. “Sure.”

Throughout our four years together, I’d used my connections to help him secure alliances and projects for the White Pack. And this time, as I agreed to help him like before, he didn’t notice anything unusual in my demeanor.

But this time, things were different. This time, I had my own plans.

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