On my daughter Bailey's birthday, my husband, Alpha Enzo, was celebrating his ex-girlfriend's daughter's birthday instead. He never cared about me, nor did he ever love our daughter. For years, I endured his coldness—for the sake of the pack, for the sake of my daughter's comfortable life. I endured everything. But Enzo went too far. He let that woman and her daughter move into our home! That woman treated me like a servant, and her daughter took everything from my daughter. I couldn't take it anymore. My daughter gave me the courage to ask for a divorce. But instead of letting me go, Enzo imprisoned me, refusing to let me see my little girl. That was the moment I lost all hope in him. I fought to escape with my daughter. And just when we finally made it out, Enzo's Beta found us. We ran in desperation—only to collide with a man, the Lycan King. Mysterious. Dangerous. Powerful. He is the only one who can help me. But will he?
Lihat lebih banyakBEATRICE
On my daughter’s birthday, my husband is busy celebrating the birthday of his ex-girlfriend’s daughter.
My husband, Alpha Enzo, sits at a table, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years.
And Thalia, his ex-girlfriend, rests a hand on his arm, smiling like they share a secret. Then he says something that makes her laugh.
"You always know how to get your way," Enzo teases.
Thalia nudges him playfully. "And you always let me."
My mind goes completely blank.
Across from them, a little girl claps her hands. A cake sits in front of her, candles flickering. Happy Birthday, Celeste is written across the top.
I stand outside the restaurant, watching them cut into a giant birthday cake.
They look like a perfect family.
But I’m the one who’s married to Enzo. I’m his mate. And Bailey is his daughter. His own.
My chest tightens, and my hands go numb.
So, this is why Enzo couldn’t make time for Bailey.
Bailey waited all day. I spent it trying to fill the void he left.
She blew out her candles tonight, wishing her dad would be there. But he’s here instead, making someone else’s wish come true.
What kind of father is he?
“Mom?”
I freeze.
Oh Goddess, it’s Bailey.
I turn around and see my little girl standing there in her pajamas.
But she’s not looking at me.
Her eyes are fixed on the restaurant—on where her dad is.
Where he’s celebrating a birthday. But not for her.
A lump forms in my throat, I blink hard to not let tears down.
I kneel down in front of her, gently blocking her line of sight.
What are you doing here, baby? I thought you were asleep,” I said gently.
Bailey didn’t answer me. She mumbled, “Daddy doesn’t like me, does he? Is it because I’m not good enough?”
I pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead. “That’s absolutely not true, okay? Your daddy is the Alpha, remember? He has a whole pack to take care of—maybe that’s just what he’s doing now.”
I honestly don’t know how many more excuses I can make for Enzo.
But I don’t want Bailey to feel like her daddy doesn’t care about her.
Even if that’s exactly the truth.
"Happy birthday to you…"
Their cheerful voices drift out from the restaurant. I can barely contain my anger. The last thing I want is for my daughter to see their damn happy scene.
I take Bailey home. She didn’t talk much.
"Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed. I will wake you up when Daddy gets home, okay." I force a smile even as my chest tightens. "Maybe Daddy will bring you a present when he gets back."
Bailey’s face lights up. “Really? He’s bringing me a present?” She grins, barely keeping her eyes open. “Oh, I hope it’s a wooden bow.”
"I promise, he would." I give her a small smile.
I kiss her forehead as I tuck her in. “Good night, sweetie,” I whisper.
At the door, I watch Bailey sleep. She looks so small and peaceful. Tomorrow, she’ll ask why her father forgot her birthday.
I have no way to soften the truth. Nothing I say will make it hurt less. My breath trembles as I turn off the light and walk away.
The house is quiet. The cake sits on the counter, and wrapping paper is scattered across the table.
I asked Enzo if he could spare just a moment—just one minute—to say happy birthday to our daughter. But he dismissed me with a simple “Busy.”
And like a fool, I believed him. I told myself he must be out at the borders again, defending the pack, fighting off another Lycan threat. He’s the Alpha, after all.
I won’t deny it—he’s a good Alpha. Devoted. Responsible. He does everything for the Silverfang Pack.
He’s just cold and distant from Bailey and me. It’s as if we’re just something he has to deal with.
I knew we were only married because we're mates, it's the pack’s traditions, but I tried. I learned to love him. Deep down, I wanted to believe he could love me, too. But he never did.
I know he didn’t choose this. To him, I’m the one who ruined his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. The Moon Goddess made us mates, which meant he had no choice but to separate from the woman he truly loved.
Sometimes, we're still together only because the pack expects us to have more puppies.
And that’s all our marriage is to him. A duty. Nothing more.
I thought the mate bond could change everything.
That maybe—just maybe—it would make him care about us, even a little.
But he never stays. Never shows up. He’s absent from every part of our daughter’s life—every milestone, every scraped knee, every bedtime story.
Sometimes, I wonder whose fault it really is.
But one thing I do know for certain:
My daughter does not deserve to be treated this way.
Their laughter won't stop ringing in my head—that image of them, smiling, celebrating like a real family.
The pain I felt all day snapped into a silent rage. My hands clench so tightly that my knuckles turn white.
I grab the keys and storm out of the house, heading straight for the restaurant.
I move so fast that I twist my ankle and crash to the ground, scraping my knee. My heart is pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. But I push away anyone who tries to help.
I know I’m a bit losing control, but I don’t care. I just want an answer.
I close in on the table.
Enzo and Thalia smile as they sing to the little girl, Celeste, before them.
And then I see it… The way he looks at Celeste.
His eyes are soft and warm as if she were his own daughter.
I’m frozen in place. He has never looked at Bailey that way. Not once.
"What are you doing here, Enzo?" My voice shakes with anger. "And why are you with her?"
Thalia's eyes go wide. She looks at me like she's seen a ghost. Then, she quickly lowers her gaze and grips Celeste's hand.
Enzo's once gentle gaze turns cold when he sees me. He exhales sharply. "I told you I’m busy… but, of course, you just have to make a scene. You never know when to quit, do you?"
"Don’t you dare turn this on me, Enzo! Why are you here with your ex and her kid?"
Enzo rubs his temple like I’m nothing but a headache. "Beatrice, you’re overreacting. It’s just dinner with a friend."
"A friend?" I scoff. “Yeah, right. Friends don’t look at each other like that. Friends don’t sit here singing birthday songs like a perfect little family."
I step closer. There’s no way in hell I’m backing down right now.
"You couldn’t even tell your own daughter a happy birthday, but you’re here acting like a dad to someone else’s kid?"
Enzo looks at me with a cold, empty stare. Not a sign of guilt in his eyes.
“I don’t want to say it again, I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what? Cheating on me?” I sneer.
Then Enzo stands up abruptly, taking a step toward me. He lowers his voice, "For goddess’s sake, Beatrice! Can't you just be quiet for once? Don't you get it? I don’t care about you and your daughter!"
MAXWELLFalling for someone you can’t have isn’t the hard part—it’s realizing that you already have, and there’s no way to turn back.I watch her from the edge of the training field, half-shadowed by the barracks archway. The morning light hits her hair just right, strands glinting gold as she moves through a sparring demonstration. Her stance is sharp. Balanced. Confident. There’s a quiet authority in her voice now, one that wasn’t there three months ago. The students don’t just obey—they listen.Beatrice has earned their respect the same way she’s earned mine: by surviving everything thrown her way without letting it harden her soul.I cross my arms, pretending I’m just here to check on Aria’s progress report. But the truth is, I’ve been finding excuses to watch her more than I should. And the more I do, the harder it becomes to look away.She doesn’t know.She can’t know.That every time I see her like this—focused, proud, alive—I feel something inside me pull tighter, like a thread
BEATRICEIt’s funny how one word can knock the air right out of you—and how another can bring it rushing back just as fast.“She’s my sister,” Maxwell says, looking directly at me.My lips part. “Your… sister?”He nods, one hand still tucked in his coat pocket, the other brushing his jaw as if he’s nervous. “Dalia. She’s younger by two years. I haven’t seen her in a while, so we’re catching up.”Relief crashes over me so abruptly, I nearly forget to breathe. I’m not sure what’s worse—that I was jealous, or that I actually believed, for a second, that he’d moved on without even looking back.But now?Now I feel ridiculous.And strangely… light.“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound as pathetically relieved as I feel. “I didn’t know she was in town.”“She came early,” he says. “She wanted to avoid the Dragon Court’s formalities.”Ah. There it is again.The reminder that no matter how close Maxwell stands to me now, someone far more fitting is being dressed in silk and gold to stand at his sid
BEATRICEIt’s almost unsettling how easy this conversation is—like we belong here, in this world of velvet cushions and expensive glassware, even though I’ve spent my whole life on the outside of rooms like this.Liora laughs at something Bailey says, dabbing her mouth gently with a linen napkin, while Cassian refills Rhys’s cup of juice like he’s done it a thousand times before. There’s no stiffness in their posture, no polite restraint like I expected. Just warmth. Openness. And for once, no hidden judgment.I’m still waiting for the shift—the moment they’ll realize who I really am.Not Beatrice the responsible mother. Not Beatrice the dependable teacher or bakery worker. But Beatrice the runaway rogue, the exiled Luna, the woman who once belonged to a name most people speak like a warning.But it never comes.“So,” Liora says, resting her chin lightly on her hand. “You train the young warriors now?”“Yes,” I say carefully. “Just started officially. Aria oversees me, but I lead my ow
BEATRICEThe second someone says, “We need to talk about your daughter,” my heart drops like a stone in my chest.I’ve just taken off my apron, ready to head out and pick Bailey up from the academy when a tall woman in sleek business clothes steps into my path. Her tone is polite but urgent, and I freeze instantly.“Is she okay?” I ask, panic rising in my throat like bile. “Did something happen?”“She’s safe,” the woman says quickly, hands up in a calming gesture. “I promise. We just… we’d like to speak with you. It’s important. Please come with me.”My instincts are on full alert, but something about her—her steady eyes, her lack of condescension—makes me pause. Still, I nod cautiously and follow her, heart racing with every step.She leads me out of the bakery and down a series of quiet streets that get nicer with every corner we turn. I recognize the area. Too well. It’s the upper district—cleaner stone paths, curated storefronts, and high-end restaurants lit by soft golden lanterns
BEATRICEIt’s strange how victory can taste sweet one moment… and bitter the next.The training session ends just after sunrise, and the kids scatter toward the academy with sore limbs and sweat-slicked foreheads. A few call out “Thanks, Miss Beatrice!” as they go, and I try to smile, but the exhaustion cuts deeper today. Maybe it’s because I pushed harder. Maybe it’s because I’m thinking too much.Or maybe it’s the weight of something I can’t name that’s been sitting in my chest since yesterday.I change quickly in the locker room, pull my hair into a bun, and make my way across the village toward the bakery. The morning smells of warm bread and burnt sugar reach me before I even round the corner. My feet already ache just thinking about the hours ahead. Flour. Fire. Fake smiles. The usual.But there’s an end in sight.I push the door open and grab my apron from the hook, moving on muscle memory as I step behind the counter and tie it in place.Today, I’m going to tell him.After the
BEATRICEI’ve fought for my life more times than I can count—but standing in front of a class of teenagers with practice swords feels like the scariest battlefield I’ve ever walked into.“Alright,” I say, loud enough to carry across the field. “Everyone line up.”They don’t move right away.Some of them glance at each other. A few shift their feet, clearly unsure. Only a handful—the ones I used to help as an assistant—step into position without hesitation. The rest?They’re waiting to see if I’ll crack.Aria stands off to the side, arms folded, face unreadable. She told me she’d let me lead on my own, just observing for the first few sessions unless something goes off the rails. I appreciated it earlier. Now I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve begged her to bark the first orders instead.I clear my throat. “I said, line up. Right. Now.”There’s something in my tone—steady, clipped—that finally gets them moving. Begrudgingly.“Good,” I say. “Today, we’re going back to basics. Footwork
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