Chapter 5

Rex’s POV 

The silence in the house was the first thing that started getting on my nerves.

It had been three days since Rosemarie signed the papers, accepted the rejection, and walked out of my office.

I had expected to feel relieved. I was finally free from a fated bond I never wanted. Tracy was living in the pack house with me. I had everything I had wanted for the last five years.

So why the hell wasn't I happy?

"Rex! Where are Leo’s school forms?" Helen snapped, marching into the kitchen where I was staring blankly at a cold cup of coffee. "The administration called me. His health insurance paperwork and weekly schedule are three days overdue. They're threatening to suspend his extracurricular activities."

I rubbed my temples as a headache started to form.

"How should I know, Mother? Ask Leo."

"He's seven, Rex! He doesn't know where his legal documents are!" she scolded, throwing her hands into the air. "Rosemarie always handled this. Now the school won't stop calling me, and I have no idea where she kept the filing keys."

She stormed out, leaving me alone with an uncomfortable realization. Without Rosemarie managing the household, I knew absolutely nothing about my own son’s life. I didn't know his teacher's name. I didn't know his shoe size. I didn't know where his documents were kept.

And it wasn't just the house. The entire pack was falling apart. When I walked into the Alpha office an hour later, my desk was buried under a mountain of paperwork.

Without Luna helping with daily administration, the pack's operations had nearly come to a stop. There were budget approvals for the pack-house kitchen, winter supply requests from the border guards, and disputes between lower-ranking families that needed mediation.

The urgent matters kept piling up, leaving me overwhelmed and exhausted. The door opened, and Tracy walked in, humming to herself. She was wearing a new designer dress and admiring her freshly painted nails.

"Rex, darling, we need to go shopping later," Tracy purred, leaning against the desk. "The master bedroom needs a complete makeover. Rosemarie's taste was so boring."

I looked up from a stack of complaints from the pack elders, my patience wearing thin.

"Tracy, I don't have time for shopping. Look at this desk. The elder council is furious because the monthly charity gala files haven't been organized. Rosemarie used to handle the entire event. Can you take care of these files for me?"

Tracy blinked, her smile fading.

"Me? Organize a pack gala? Rex, I don't know the first thing about spreadsheets or budgets. That sounds exhausting."

"Just try," I said, pushing a thick binder toward her. "The pack needs to see you stepping up if you're going to be the new Luna. And after that, could you check on the kitchen inventory? Mother says the staff is confused about the weekly meal plans."

Tracy looked at the binder as if it were poisonous. She scoffed and crossed her arms.

"Are you serious? You want me to do paperwork and manage kitchen staff? Rex, I just spent two hours at the salon getting a professional manicure. I can't be handling dusty binders or household work. It'll ruin my nails. Tell the maids to do it."

"The maids report to Luna, Tracy!" I snapped, my voice rising. "Rosemarie handled all of this while taking care of Leo!"

"Well, I'm not Rosemarie," Tracy hissed before turning and slamming the office door behind her.

I sank back into my leather chair and stared at the ceiling. A heavy weight settled in my chest.

For five years, I had assumed Rosemarie spent her days relaxing and enjoying the luxury of being an Alpha's wife.

I called her lazy. My sister and mother humiliated her daily for "not contributing." But now that I was dealing with even a fraction of her responsibilities, I finally realized how perfectly she had managed everything.

She had kept my entire life running smoothly. And she had done it alone. Without a single word of appreciation from me. But as guilt started creeping in, my pride quickly crushed it. 

I refused to believe Rosemarie had truly left me. She loved me too much. She had fought her parents just to marry me. A woman doesn't stop loving her fated mate overnight.

"She's playing a game," I muttered, a confident smirk appearing on my face. She was probably hiding in some motel nearby, waiting for me to realize how much I needed her.

Accepting the divorce so easily. Throwing that dramatic tantrum at Tracy. It was all a desperate attempt to make me feel guilty. She wanted me to beg her to come back.

There was no way Rosemarie would leave our son and disappear from the territory forever. I pressed the intercom button on my desk.

"Marcus, get in here."

My Beta entered a moment later, looking tired.

"Yes, Alpha?"

"Find Rosemarie," I ordered, leaning back in my chair. "Call her phone. If she doesn't answer, track her car and check the local hotels near the borders. Tell her the game is over and she needs to come home to sign the remaining custody documents for Leo. She'll come back the moment she realizes I'm giving her a chance."

Marcus hesitated, his expression dark.

"Alpha... we've already been looking for her. The warriors checked the borders yesterday because her car was found abandoned in the airport parking lot."

My smirk disappeared.

"The airport? Did she buy a ticket?"

"We don't know," Marcus replied, pulling a folded paper from his jacket pocket. "She didn't board any commercial flights under her name. But while investigating her movements after the rejection, I checked the town hospital where she was admitted after collapsing on your porch."

"She collapsed?"

A strange chill ran through me.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Helen told the staff not to bother you with what she called 'Rosemarie's dramatics,'" Marcus said quietly. He placed the paper on my desk. "The hospital wouldn't tell me where she is now, but a nurse recognized our pack crest and gave me this. It's a copy of the official medical notice sent to her clinic last week."

I stared at the paper. My heart began pounding heavily against my ribs. A feeling of dread tightened around my throat. With trembling fingers, I picked it up. My eyes moved past the hospital logo and landed on the diagnosis printed in bold letters.

Patient: Rosemarie Wilton.

Diagnosis: Advanced Malignant Neuroblastoma (Late-Stage Brain Tumor).

Notes: Surgery no longer possible due to advanced progression. High-risk neurological instability. Prognosis: Estimated six months left to live.

The paper slipped from my fingers and drifted back onto the desk. The air left the room and I froze along with it. 

The blood drained from my face as a deafening silence filled my ears.

Six months.

Every memory from the past six months hit me at once. Rosemarie begging me to take her to the clinic. Rosemarie holding her head in pain in the kitchen. Rosemarie looked pale and exhausted while asking for a single day of rest as my mother and sister screamed at her to cook for me.

I called her dramatic and lazy. I severed our bond and forced her through an agonizing mate rejection while a terminal illness was slowly destroying her brain.

She hadn't been pretending after all. She….

She was dying.