My Husband’s Other Wife

       

        Eleanor

        

        THE silence of the kitchen was louder than the argument we just had. I stared at the door where Owen had disappeared. My chest felt hollow, the mate bond giving a dull, rhythmic throb of rejection.

        I couldn't sleep. My mind was spinning. Susana was back, she was wearing "my" dress, and she was staying in my home. I needed to do something, not scream or cry, but something productive.

        I walked to the small corner nook where I kept my laptop. As the Luna, I usually handled the pack’s charitable foundations and some of the internal household accounts. I logged into the pack’s financial portal, intending to look over the budget for next month’s gala.

        But then, a notification caught my eye. A series of Urgent Transfers from the secondary pack fund.

        My heart skipped a beat. I clicked the tab.

        There it was. A paper trail of betrayal that started weeks before Susana even arrived.

        $30,000 for Relocation Logistics.

        $150,000 for Professional Wardrobe Update.

        $90,000 for Consultation Signing Bonus.

        Every single cent had been transferred to a private account held by Susana Howell. The Wardrobe Update was dated three days ago—the exact price of the Givenchy dress she was currently wearing upstairs.

        The air felt thin. Owen hadn't just invited her back; he had been funding her life with pack money. Money that was meant for our people, our schools, and our future.

        I grabbed my laptop and marched toward Owen’s office. I didn't knock. I slammed the door open.

        Owen was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a stack of files in the other. He looked up, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

        "Eleanor? It’s nearly midnight. What now?"

        I turned the laptop screen toward him. "Explain this, Owen. Why is Susana receiving a 'signing bonus' larger than our Lead Warrior’s annual salary? And why are we paying for her clothes?"

        Owen didn't even flinch. He didn't look guilty. He just took a slow sip of his drink and leaned back.

        "She is a high-level consultant, Eleanor. Good talent costs money. I had to entice her to leave her position in the north."

        "Entice her?" I raised my voice. "She’s your 'best friend,' remember? You told me she was here because she had a plumbing emergency! These transfers started a month ago. You’ve been planning this behind my back."

        "I am the Alpha," Owen said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl. "I don't need to clear every administrative expense with my wife."

        "I’m not just your wife, Owen! I am the Luna of this pack. This is shared territory. You are using our resources to play house with a woman who almost destroyed us three years ago!"

        Owen stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow over me. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from my face. I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

        "You’re being insecure again," he said softly, but the words felt like a slap. "It’s honestly becoming exhausting, Eleanor. Your jealousy is making you see conspiracies where there are only business transactions."

        "Jealousy? Owen, the numbers are right here!"

        "The numbers are fine. Your mental state is what I’m worried about," he interrupted, his eyes cold. "Susana is here to help the pack. If you were a supportive Luna, you’d be thanking her for taking the workload off your plate instead of acting like a petty, suspicious child."

        "A child?" I stepped back, my eyes stinging. "I am defending our home."

        "No," Owen said, turning back to his desk. "You’re attacking my friend because you can’t move past the past. Go to bed, Eleanor. You’re clearly not thinking straight. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down and stopped acting so... hysterical."

        He sat back down and opened a folder, effectively dismissing me.

        I stood there, clutching my laptop to my chest. The gaslighting was so seamless, so smooth, that for a split second, I actually wondered if I was being crazy. But then I looked at the screen again. The numbers didn't lie.

        Owen didn't see a Luna standing in front of him. He saw an obstacle.

        I left the office without another word. I didn't go to our bedroom. I went to the guest suite on the opposite wing.

        As I walked past Susana’s room, I heard a soft laugh from inside. She was on the phone, her voice light and triumphant.

        "I told you, he’s wrapped around my finger... No, she has no idea what’s coming next."

        I didn't stop. I didn't confront her. I just kept walking, a new, cold fire beginning to burn where my heart used to be.

        Owen thought I was "insecure." Susana thought I was "clueless."

        They were both about to find out how wrong they were.