A THOUSAND GOOD-BYES

ALISA’S POV

The bass from the speakers vibrated right through the soles of my shoes, making my chest ache. I hated this place.

The VIP lounge of The Black Fang was always suffocating, packed with high-ranking Alphas and Betas drowning themselves in expensive alcohol and raw pheromones.

As a low-ranking Omega, I didn't belong here. But tonight, I didn't care.

Tonight was my fifth wedding anniversary. I had spent three hours in our kitchen, carefully cooking a perfect steak dinner, dimming the lights, and waiting.

The candles had burned down to stubs. The food had gone cold. Jeff never showed up. He hadn't answered his phone, and he completely blocked my pack-link messages.

So, I came to find him.

I marched toward the back corridor that led to the private executive suites. Before I could even reach the door, two massive pack guards stepped into my path.

They were tall, heavily built Betas, and they looked down at me like I was a piece of trash that had drifted into the club. “Hold it,” the guard on the left said, crossing his arms. “The VIP area is closed tonight. Private pack business only. Turn around, little girl.”

I swallowed the lump of nervousness in my throat and forced my shoulders back. “Let me pass.”

The second guard laughed, a nasty, mocking sound. “Did you hear her, Marcus? She thinks she can just wander in. Look, sweetie, go back to the dance floor before you get hurt. Alphas in there don't like being disturbed by weak Omegas.”

Fire flared in my veins. I was tired of being pushed around, and I was tired of being hidden away. “I am not just some random girl,” I said, my voice ringing out clearly over the loud music.

“I am Alisa Moretti. I am your boss’s wife. Now step aside before I tell Jeff exactly how rudely you treated me.”

The guards blinked in surprise. They leaned in slightly, catching the faint, stale scent of Jeff’s pack registration on my skin. The smug looks instantly vanished from their faces.

“Mrs. Moretti,” Marcus muttered, his face turning pale as he quickly stepped back. “We… we didn't recognize you. The boss didn't say you were coming.”

“Clearly,” I snapped, pushing past them before they could change their minds. I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.

The loud thumping of the club faded, replaced by an eerie quiet. As I approached the door to Jeff’s private suite, I stopped. I could hear noises coming through the thick wood.

“Ah… yes, right there… don't stop, Jeff…” It was a heavy, breathless moan. My stomach did a violent flip. I froze, my hand trembling as I hovered it over the door handle.

I told myself to turn around. I told myself it was just a misunderstanding. But then another voice spoke, and it cut through me like a knife.

“You are so perfect for me,” Jeff’s voice rumbled, thick with praise and a deep affection I had never once heard him use with me. “So tight. A real partner. Not like that useless, boring Omega at home. You’re the only one who knows how to please an Alpha like me, Aiden.”

Another loud, desperate moan echoed from inside. The puzzle of my entire five-year marriage finally snapped together. The cold distance. The quick, loveless encounters from behind in the dark. The complete lack of affection.

Jeff didn't want a female. He had used my quiet, compliant Omega status as a political cover to protect his reputation and satisfy the traditionalist pack council.

Tears blinded my eyes, blurring the gold handle. With a surge of raw, painful adrenaline, I pushed the heavy oak door wide open.

The room was dimly lit by red neon lights, but I could see everything perfectly. Jeff had his shirt completely unbuttoned, pinning someone tightly against the leather sofa.

His hands were gripping the man’s hips, moving in a hard, desperate rhythm. When the neon light shifted, it hit the face of the man beneath him.

It was Aiden. Jeff’s Beta and second-in-command. The man he always told me was "like a brother" to him. The two of them froze. Jeff looked over his shoulder,

his eyes locking onto me standing in the doorway. There was no shock in his eyes. No scent of guilt in the air. Only pure, unadulterated annoyance.

Aiden hurriedly pulled his pants up, looking down at the carpet, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Alisa… wait, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Shut up, Aiden,” Jeff ordered smoothly, stepping away from the couch and calmly buttoning his shirt. He looked at me like I was an employee who had disrupted an important meeting.

“What are you doing here, Alisa? You know better than to interrupt me at work.”

My throat felt incredibly dry, and my voice came out as a broken whisper. “Work? Is this what you call work, Jeff? I came to find my husband. It’s our five-year anniversary. I cooked for you. I waited for hours.”

Jeff frowned slightly, tucking his shirt into his trousers. His tone went ice-cold. “I forgot. And honestly, I’m busy right now, Alisa. Go back to the penthouse. We will discuss this tomorrow when you are not acting so emotional.”

No apology. No remorse. He didn't even care that he had broken my heart. Something inside my soul snapped quietly. Five years of being a perfect, submissive wife, and I was just a minor inconvenience to him.

I backed away, shaking my head as the tears finally spilled down my cheeks. “I see. I see exactly what I am to you.” “Alisa, wait!” Aiden called out, taking a step forward.

But Jeff caught Aiden’s arm, pulling him back. “Let her go,” Jeff said coldly, his voice echoing in the room. “She has nowhere else to go anyway. She’ll be waiting at the apartment.”

That was the final blow. I turned and ran before the utter humiliation could choke me. I burst through the corridor, past the stunned guards, and out through the club's back exit into the pouring rain.

The cold water soaked through my thin dress within seconds, but I didn't care. I just kept running down the dark, slick city streets, sobbing loudly, the rain washing away my tears.

I kept waiting for the sound of heavy footsteps behind me. I expected him to chase me, to grab my arm, to lie to me, to give me some sign that I mattered enough to fight for.

But there was only the hollow sound of the rain against the pavement. Exhausted, shivering, and completely broken, I pushed open the door of a quiet, low-lit bar on the edge of the legal district.

I collapsed onto a stool at the far end of the counter, my wet hair sticking to my face. The bartender took one look at my drenched, miserable frame and walked over.

I looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. “Give me something strong,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “And leave the bottle.”

He didn't ask questions. He just poured a dark amber liquid into a glass. I grabbed it and downed it in one breath. It burned my throat, but it felt good.

It numbed the freezing ache in my chest. I immediately poured another glass, staring blankly into the amber liquid. “I was so stupid,” I muttered to myself, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “So incredibly stupid.”

“Maybe,” a deep, incredibly smooth voice rumbled from the shadows beside me. “But you're far too beautiful to be drowning yourself in cheap liquor, little wolf.”