Scarred by His Deceit

The Pierre Hotel smelled like gardenias and old money. I stood just inside the ballroom entrance and let the scene wash over me. Crystal chandeliers threw soft light across a hundred faces I didn't recognize and a dozen I did. Women in gowns that cost more than cars. Men in tuxedos that fit like they were born wearing them. Waiters gliding between clusters of conversation with trays of champagne so pale it looked like liquid gold. Six years ago, I would have been one of those waiters. I took a glass from a passing tray and didn't drink it. My steel-gray gown was custom Valentino, fitted so precisely it felt like armor. It cost more than my entire first-year scholarship at Columbia.

During my maternity leave, I found myself scrolling through the pack’s online forum to pass the time. That’s when I stumbled upon a post that was rapidly climbing in popularity. The headline read, "I Don’t Envy His Mate Because He Reserves All His Love for Me." Curious, I clicked on it. The profile picture was a butterfly—the same butterfly that matched the tattoo on my mate’s arm. --- Exhaustion from childbirth clung to me like a heavy fog, and the gnawing pain in my back felt like it could snap at any moment. In an attempt to distract myself, I aimlessly scrolled through the pack’s online forum and stumbled upon a post buzzing with activity. The profile picture was a butterfly, identical to the tattoo on Edison’s arm. Intrigued, I opened the post, and each word radiated the brazen audacity of an Omega trying to claim what wasn’t hers. "My mate’s Luna just had his child, and she’s home recovering. I casually mentioned wanting to visit Venice, and he booked a flight immediately.

The scent of pine and mountain air clung to my skin as I stepped into the sprawling neutral-territory lodge. My heart fluttered with anticipation, one hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach where our future heir grew. Three weeks of morning sickness had confirmed what my wolf, Luna, had already whispered to me – I was carrying Michael's pup, the future Alpha of Silver Creek Pack. "He's going to be so happy," I whispered to my wolf, feeling her eager agreement pulse through our shared consciousness. *He'll finally look at us the way he did when we first mated,* Luna murmured inside my mind. I hadn't told anyone about my pregnancy, not even my mother back in the Moonstone Pack. This moment belonged to Michael first – my Alpha, my mate, the man who had swept me into his world three years ago with promises of devotion and protection. The marble floors echoed beneath my careful steps as I followed the familiar trail of Michael's scent – sandalwood and authority, a commanding presence that had always made my knees weak. The diplomatic meetings between packs had kept him away for nearly two weeks, and though he'd ordered me to stay at our pack house, I couldn't bear to wait another day to share our miracle. My fingers trembled slightly as I traced his scent down a long corridor lined with carved wooden doors.

My husband, Jeremiah, let me die from an allergic reaction because he couldn't pause his video game. He dismissed my kidnapping as a prank and refused to come to the hospital when I was miscarrying our child. But the final straw came when he ordered doctors to carve skin from my body for his mistress's minor burn. He thought he had broken me, but he was wrong. I exposed his affair, took his company, and left him with nothing. Years later, he crashed my wedding to another man, begging for a second chance. "Elena lied to me! She manipulated me! It was always you, Celina!" I looked at the monster who had destroyed my life, my family, and my child. Then I picked up a wine bottle and smashed it over his head.

I was the secret lover of my CEO, Kristofer Gordon. He called me his "Starlight," and I, a brilliant but naive software engineer, believed him. Then he publicly chose his fragile childhood friend, Elenor, revealing I was nothing more than a disposable secret. The cruelty didn't stop there. He bought my late mother's necklace for Elenor, who taunted me by putting it on a stray dog. When I snapped and attacked her, Kristofer had me arrested and beaten in jail. Lying in a hospital bed, I learned the final truth from a gloating Elenor: Kristofer had secretly filmed every intimate moment we ever shared, holding the tapes as blackmail. He wanted to break me. He wanted me to suffer. But the woman he thought he destroyed died that day. I walked out, set his mansion on fire, and disappeared. This time, I would be the one in control.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.