Chapter 1

Isabella’s POV

“Congratulations, Luna Isabella. You’re pregnant.”

Pregnant.

My knees went weak. My fingers shook as I gripped the file she handed me. My heart thundered against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears. After six years of hoping, praying, of breaking quietly in the dark of our bedroom, I finally had what I had been begging the universe for.

Tears slid down my cheeks. “Thank you… thank you,” I whispered. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

The hospital walls blurred as I fled. Every step felt like a heartbeat out of sync, a drum of joy, fear, and disbelief. My hands clutched the file as if holding it too tightly could protect it from the world. My miracle. My child. My hope.

The sky looked too bright. The world too sharp. I couldn’t wait to tell Zachary. He had to be overjoyed. He had to.

I parked in the driveway. His car was already there. My pulse raced. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. His house smelled of faint cologne and cheap vanilla candles. A normal scent—but it made my stomach twist with anticipation.

I stepped inside.

Then I heard it.

A sound so familiar, yet impossible. A moan. Wet. Desperate. Female.

My stomach lurched violently. My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a scream. My heart slammed against my chest, each beat a hammer of disbelief and dread.

I moved toward the bedroom, legs shaking under me, and peered through the crack of the door.

Zachary. My husband. My Alpha.

On his knees. Between his secretary’s thighs.

His hands gripped her hips possessively. His mouth—oh God, his mouth—devouring her with a hunger he had never shown me.

Betty arched her back, gasping, moaning, crying out for him.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached. Every dream, every hope, every night of yearning I had given him—vanished in a second.

He finally pulled away, kissed her stomach, whispered words I had never heard him say to me. Words that belonged to me.

Then… he thrust into her. Raw. Reckless. No protection. No fear. No shame.

The sound of their bodies, the wetness, the moans, the gasp of pleasure—it filled the room and my soul with ice.

I pressed a hand over my stomach, as if sheer willpower could protect the child he didn’t yet know existed. My fingers dug into my palm, nails breaking skin, but I didn’t feel the pain. I couldn’t.

“My love,” he whispered when she collapsed against him, exhausted.

My love.

I staggered. The vase beside me tipped over and shattered into a thousand pieces. The sound echoed like gunfire.

Betty screamed, “Did you hear something?”

I stepped forward.

Zachary turned. His face drained of color. His hands froze mid-air, then dropped to his sides like he had been caught in some petty crime instead of committing the ultimate betrayal.

“Isabella…” he stammered. “This isn’t—”

“Don’t lie,” I whispered, my voice low, sharp, trembling with rage and heartbreak. “Please. Don’t even try.”

His eyes met mine. Cold. Empty. Unflinching.

“For six years you gave me nothing,” he said, cruelly precise. “No child. No passion. No reason to stay. What did you expect me to do?”

I shook, my hand instinctively covering my stomach. He glanced down, saw the file, and his expression didn’t change. Not a flicker of guilt. Not a hint of regret.

“You should’ve given me a child years ago, Isabella. A Luna who can’t conceive is useless,” he sneered.

Useless.

The word burned into me. I felt my chest collapse under its weight. Every memory—every night of hope, every kiss turned cold, every plea for him to hold me—flashed in my mind like fire.

Betty whimpered, reaching for him. “Alpha… please… it wasn’t her fault—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, the whip-crack word hitting her like a physical blow.

Something inside me snapped. My breath came in ragged bursts, my hands shook so violently I could barely grip the door handle. My tears flowed freely.

I turned and walked out.

He didn’t chase me. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even call my name.

The streets blurred as I drove. Neon lights reflected off my tears, smearing like streaks of fire and shadow across the windshield. Six years wasted. Six years betrayed. Six years of lies.

I ended up at the pub, the place I had sworn off when I became “the perfect wife.” Now it was the only place left. Alone, I slid into the darkest corner, one hand on my stomach, the other wiping at my cheeks. My chest still ached. My lips trembled.

A girl approached, hesitant. “Luna… it’s not safe for you here. You shouldn’t be—”

“Safe?” I spat, venom dripping from my words. “My husband doesn’t care where I am. Why should anyone else?”

She stepped back, unease flickering in her eyes before she disappeared into the crowd.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers hovered over a contact I had never wanted to reach again. But tonight… tonight I had no choice.

I typed quickly:

“I need you. It’s urgent. Now.”

My thumb hovered over Send, my vision blurred with tears, anger, and determination.

I pressed it.

The message flew.

And in that moment, I felt the shift. Something had awakened inside me. Something raw, dark, and relentless. Something that wouldn’t be crushed. Something that would make him regret every betrayal, every lie, every cold word.

This time… I would not break.

This time… I would rise.

And the world would watch him burn.