Chapter 9: Betrayal and Rebirth

Aleksandra’s POV

A man walked up to her, looking confused as he tried to calm her down. His eyes scanned the area, then landed on me. He froze, his face paling as if he’d seen a ghost.

Because the man standing in front of me was Peter.

My Peter. The man who had promised me the world, who told me I was different, special, and that he wanted a future with me.

His face went white when our eyes met, like he’d seen a ghost. He quickly turned to the brunette, murmuring, “Rebecca, please, calm down…”

His wife.

The ground disappeared beneath me. My breath caught in my throat, my fingers trembling from the icy stab of betrayal. The pain was sharp and horribly familiar—a cruel déjà vu.

Leo. Another man. Another lie.

But this time, I wasn’t going to shatter.

No. This time, I would burn.

Rebecca was fuming. “Don’t you dare try to shut me up,” she snapped at Peter. “I saw your conversations with her on your phone—your messages about meeting up, and the photos.”

Peter’s reply was so smooth, so confident, that if I hadn’t known the truth, I might have believed him.

“Honey, Alexandra is a painter. I contacted her to commission your portrait for your birthday.” He turned to me, desperation flickering in his blue eyes. “Right, Alexandra?”

He had lied to me for two months, showering me with promises. Now, he expected me to back him up, as if I were really his dirty little secret.

But I had played along and left quietly once before—with Leo. Never again.

“No, that’s not true,” I said firmly, catching Samantha’s approving nod. “Your husband has been pursuing me without ever mentioning that he’s married. He dated me and made endless promises about our future.”

Rebecca slapped Peter hard across the face, leaving a red imprint on his cheek. “Asshole! I hate you. My dad was right when he warned me you’re a piece of crap. And you are.”

“Becca, honey, calm down! She’s lying. I’ve never dated her. She’s obsessed with me, but I never cheated on you. I love only you!” He tried to convince her, his voice dripping with fake sincerity.

“I want a divorce,” Rebecca shouted, then stormed out of the café.

Peter turned to me, hissing bitterly, “You ruined my life,” before following his wife.

Samantha bit into her sandwich, shaking her head. “Quite the dramatic celebration we had, sis. Seems like you’re talented at attracting drama.”

I sat there, my dress and hair soaked from Rebecca’s water, and downed a glass of champagne. I escaped a cheater in the werewolf world only to find another one in the human world. Just great.

One year had passed, yet like a cruel déjà vu, I was betrayed all over again—comforted only by Samantha’s warm hug.

Later, back in my apartment, my chest tightened. Peter’s lies hurt me to the core; I had truly believed I’d found love, a happy ending with him. But suddenly, memories of Leo’s betrayal came flooding back, like a bandage torn from an old wound.

I grabbed my brushes and canvas, pouring all my pain, sadness, and anger into the painting. Dark strokes formed a forest, and in the center, I painted a white wolf howling at the moon. Somehow, I imagined it was my wolf, even though I had none.

Today, I didn’t just have my mended heart broken again—I understood something simple and liberating: I don’t need a man to complete me. I love my sister, my art, Arabella, and myself. And for now, that is enough.

I set down my brush, staring at the white wolf on the canvas—its howl raw, defiant, and free. In its eyes, I saw my own reflection, fierce and unbroken. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was no longer painting my pain, but my rebirth.