Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

A video popped up on my phone, showing Alpha Thomas snuggled into Lainey’s arms, cheeks flushed, eyes closed. Her face was out of view, but I knew it was her—everyone called her "Sun," yet to me, she was just Lainey, his Beta.

The first time I caught him cheating was when I received a video of them making out. To this day, I can't wrap my head around how someone can film a video and kiss passionately at the same time. There's no doubt she’s stunning—long legs, high cheekbones, sharp chin, big eyes, and lips fuller than any doll I had as a pup.

When we first met, the hostility in her gaze was unmistakable, and right then I knew she had a thing with him. I suggested he could let her go, but he looked at me like I was speaking gibberish. "What are you thinking, Luna? She hasn’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t remove her as Beta even if I wanted to," he said, his alpha tone sharp and dismissive.

Maybe she sensed my aversion and decided to provoke me. That night she sent a picture of her holding hands with him, who didn’t return to our den until morning. From that moment, her messages landed daily, and he spent more time with her than with me, his mate.

I played the classic role of the scorned Luna, complete with tears, arguments, and threats to reject the mate bond, but his disdainful looks cut through me like claws, shredding the last of my dignity. "Look at yourself in the mirror—what do you see?" he sneered, his aura heavy with contempt.

Whatever I saw was his doing.

After ten years of being his mate, this was my reward—an invitation to reject the bond a hundred times if I had a shred of pride. But I was pride-starved.

During those bleak days, I watched *The Other Woman* on repeat, seeing myself in the main character, but with pups thrown into the mix. I lacked a confidant like Cameron or a benefactor like my mother, Lucille.

Rejecting the bond would leave me with little more than a pittance and without custody of the pups. Fiction may be rich and dramatic, but reality is stark and lean.

I began living a widow-like existence, still financially tethered to his account that funded our lives.

I envied she-wolves brave enough to make drastic decisions and those who could expose unfaithful mates.

But I was the most pathetic kind.

At night, my pillow was soaked with tears, breathing felt suffocating, and despair was my constant companion.

There were moments I thought I’d lose my mind, the tears reaching my lips tasted bitter.

The mate bond can indeed be a cold, fragile thing.

I gave in, promising to take care of the pups and his mother, Oaklyn, vowing not to interfere in his life because he had brought out the rejection agreement. It outlined my ten years of staying in the pack without earning resources, and the paltry sum of two hundred thousand dollars was supposed to be a generous gift.

I wanted to ask, without me, how would he have had two pups and a stress-free pack life? But his voice was louder than mine; whatever he said was law.

Even if I couldn’t bear it, I had no choice but to endure.

After more than two years of suffering, I finally weathered the end of their honeymoon phase, their united front falling apart. Arguments became frequent, both major and minor, breaking out daily.

I waited for the right moment, ready to hold him accountable for everything, past and present.