Chapter 2
Three years ago, I married Dominic Ashford, Alpha of the Silver Ridge Pack, because I loved him.
Not because of his title. Not because of his wealth. Not because our families had arranged it—though they had.
I loved him because of the night he found me crying in the garden at my father’s funeral, sat beside me without saying a word, and stayed until dawn.
I loved him because he once carried me through a snowstorm when my wolf was too weak to shift.
I loved him because he looked me in the eyes and said, “You’ll never be alone again, Elara. I swear it.”
He lied.
The loneliness began six months into our marriage, when Megan transferred to his company.
She was everything I wasn’t—bold, sharp-tongued, stunning in a way that made rooms go quiet.
And she was his ex.
“It’s nothing,” Dominic said when I asked.
“She’s just a marketing director. I’m not going to fire her over ancient history.”
I nodded, because I trusted him.
Then came the late nights. The “emergency meetings.” The weekends away.
I cooked dinner every night and sat alone at a table set for two.
His Beta, Ryan, started avoiding eye contact with me. The pack members whispered when I walked past.
Everyone knew before I did.
But I kept smiling. Kept hosting pack events.
Kept being the perfect Luna—because if I was perfect enough, maybe he’d come back to me.
He never did.
The breaking point came two nights ago.
I’d spent the entire day preparing for our third anniversary. I decorated the dining room with lilies—his mother’s favorite flower. I wore the dress he said he loved. I made his favorite meal from scratch.
And I waited.
Eight p.m. Nothing.
Nine p.m. A text: “Don’t wait up. Meeting ran late.”
Ten p.m. I called. No answer.
Eleven p.m. I called again. This time, someone picked up.
But it wasn’t him.
“Hello?” Megan’s voice, lazy and amused.
“Oh, Elara. He’s… a little busy right now. Can I take a message?”
I heard him in the background. “Meg, who is it? Hang up.”
She laughed softly. “It’s your wife.”
A pause.
Then: “Tell her I’ll be home later.”
Megan’s voice returned, dripping with false sympathy. “You heard him, sweetie. He’ll be home later. Don’t worry—I’m taking very good care of him.”
The line went dead.
I stood in the dining room for a long time, staring at the candles melting down to nothing.
Then I cleared the table, washed every dish, blew out every candle, and went to bed.
The next morning, I found them together.
And I signed the papers.
Sitting on the train now, watching the city blur past the window, I finally let myself feel it—the full weight of everything I’d been carrying.
My wolf howled inside me, low and aching.
Not for him. Not anymore.
For the girl I used to be. The one who believed love was enough.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Dominic.
“Where’s breakfast? And where are the rejection papers? I left them on my desk, not the kitchen counter. Don’t move my stuff.”
He thought I’d simply relocated his documents.
He hadn’t even read them.
He didn’t know I’d already signed them.
He didn’t know I was gone.