When My Mate Rejected Me for His Ambitious Mistress

The eviction notice came at dawn.

I was still in bed when Jeremy kicked open the door to what used to be our room. Angel stood behind him, arms crossed, wearing one of my silk robes like she'd already moved in.

"Pack your things," Jeremy said. No preamble. No explanation. "You've got an hour."

I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around myself. "What?"

"The Beta house is for the Beta and his mate." Angel's smile was sharp. "That's not you anymore."

Jeremy wouldn't even look at me. "Omega quarters. East wing. You know where it is."

The Omega quarters. A crumbling section of the pack house where the lowest-ranked wolves lived in cramped, moldy rooms. Where broken wolves went to fade away.

I should have fought. Should have reminded him that I'd lived here for five years, that this was my home too. But I just nodded and started gathering my things.

Let him think I was defeated. Let him think he'd won.

---

The Omega quarters smelled like mildew and despair. My new room was barely ten feet square, with a single window that wouldn't open and a mattress that sagged in the middle. Water stains bloomed across the ceiling like bruises.

I set my bag down and pulled out my burner phone. A text from Elena waited: "Phase two ready. Waiting for your signal."

Not yet. I needed more ammunition first.

---

The summons came that afternoon. Angel, standing in my doorway with a bucket and sponge.

"My car needs washing," she said. "And when you're done with that, Jeremy wants dinner served at seven. Don't be late."

I took the bucket without a word.

Her car was a white Mercedes, caked in mud from the northern trails. I scrubbed it in the parking lot while pack members walked past, some averting their eyes, others smirking. The water was ice-cold, and my hands went numb after the first ten minutes.

But I kept scrubbing. Kept my head down. Played the part.

---

Dinner was worse.

I served them in the formal dining room—the one we used to use for pack celebrations. Jeremy sat at the head of the table, Angel beside him, both dressed like they were attending a gala instead of eating pot roast.

"Wine," Jeremy said without looking at me.

I poured. My hand didn't shake.

Angel laughed at something on her phone, then showed it to Jeremy. "Look at this. Viktor Steele confirmed the meeting for tomorrow night."

My ears perked up, but I kept my face blank as I set down the wine bottle.

"Good." Jeremy cut into his steak. "I need that money fast. The Council viewing is in two weeks, and I need to look the part."

"How much are you asking for?" Angel's voice dropped to a purr.

"Five million. Maybe ten." Jeremy leaned back in his chair. "Steele's a rogue, but he's got connections. He'll front the cash if the collateral's good enough."

"And the collateral?"

Jeremy's smile made my blood run cold. "The northern hunting grounds. The Pack House deed. I've got copies of the Alpha's signature from old documents. Easy enough to forge."

Angel's eyes widened. "Jeremy, that's—"

"Genius?" He raised his glass. "I know. By the time anyone figures it out, I'll be on the High Council. Untouchable."

They clinked glasses.

I stood in the corner, holding an empty tray, memorizing every word. Treason. Forgery. Fraud. Jeremy wasn't just gambling with his own future anymore. He was betting the entire pack's territory on a chalice I'd made in my workshop.

When they finally dismissed me, I walked back to my room with my head down and my heart racing.

This was it. The ammunition I needed.

---

I texted Elena the moment I was alone: "Execute phase two. Now."

Her response came within seconds: "On it. This is going to be beautiful."

Then I waited.

---

The next morning, Jeremy's phone started ringing before sunrise. I heard him shouting from three rooms away, his voice carrying through the thin walls.

"What do you mean, another bid? Who?"

I smiled into my pillow.

By noon, the entire pack was buzzing. Someone had offered fifty million dollars for the chalice. Fifty million. Plus a guaranteed seat on the High Council. The offer came from a shell company with ties to the Lycan Court, verified by a letter bearing the Royal Seal.

Elena's work was flawless.

Jeremy stopped showing up for patrol duty. Stopped answering the Alpha's calls. I watched from my window as he paced the courtyard, phone pressed to his ear, gesturing wildly.

Angel clung to his arm, her face flushed with excitement.

Marcus tried to talk to him once. I saw the Gamma approach, his expression serious, but Jeremy waved him off without even slowing down.

"I don't have time for pack business," Jeremy's voice carried across the courtyard. "I'm dealing with the Lycan Court now. Tell the Alpha I'll check in when I'm ready."

Marcus's jaw tightened, but he walked away.

That night, I served them dinner again. Jeremy barely noticed me. He was too busy showing Angel the offer letter on his laptop, his eyes gleaming with greed.

"Fifty million," he kept saying. "Fifty million and a Council seat. We're going to be royalty, Angel. Actual royalty."

She kissed him, long and deep, right there at the table.

I refilled their wine glasses and disappeared into the kitchen.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed. Elena: "He took the bait. Viktor Steele confirmed the loan. Ten million, signed this morning. Your ex-mate just sold territory he doesn't own."

I leaned against the counter, letting the satisfaction wash over me.

Jeremy Wagner had just committed treason against his own Alpha. He'd forged documents, sold pack land, and abandoned his duties—all for a chalice that was worth maybe three hundred dollars.

And he had no idea the trap was already closing around him.

I walked back into the dining room to clear their plates. Jeremy didn't even glance at me as I reached for his empty glass.

Good.

Let him forget I existed.

It would make his fall so much sweeter.