Who Allowed You to Come Here?

(Grace's POV)

The morning light streamed through the windows of Silvercliff medical technology enterprises headquarters as I organized the files on my desk. The healing division's quarterly report needed my review before submission, and I was determined to leave everything in perfect order before my departure.

The elevator doors chimed open at the end of the hallway. I glanced up automatically, then froze.

Ethan.

My mate—no, my soon-to-be former mate—strode through the office, his powerful presence commanding attention without effort. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. Several pack members immediately lowered their heads in deference.

I hadn't realized he and Emma had returned from the Eastern Territory. The shock rooted me to the spot.

Once, even a glimpse of him would have made my heart ache with the pull of our weakening mate bond, my eyes bright with foolish hope. Now, after deciding to sever that bond, my chest no longer tightened with that painful longing.

He passed by with that same unreadable expression, treating me like any other pack employee. Not a flicker of recognition crossed his face.

I held back a tremor, turned away, and slipped back to my workstation. I dove into my tasks related to the healing division as if I could seal off every memory of him with sheer concentration.

The numbers on my screen blurred. I blinked hard, refusing to acknowledge the hollow feeling spreading through my chest.

This was exactly why I needed to leave. Seven years of this cold indifference had slowly eroded my sense of self. No more.

I straightened my shoulders and continued working.

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. I picked it up, already knowing what the call would be about.

"Make two cups of coffee and send them to the Alpha King's office," Gregory Parker's calm voice instructed through the handset.

Gregory, Ethan's assistant, had never bothered to hide his prejudice against me. He believed I had married Ethan solely for status and pack position.

"I'll bring them right away," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

Once, I had spent sleepless nights perfecting that precise brew, believing each warm cup might thaw Ethan's distant heart and strengthen our bond. Such foolish hopes.

I walked to the break room and prepared the coffee with practiced movements. Dark roast, no sugar, a hint of cinnamon—exactly how Ethan preferred it. The second cup, I assumed, was for a visitor.

I poured the dark liquid with steady hands, balanced the tray, and prepared to fulfill the request that had once been my secret, futile bridge to him.

The walk to his office felt longer than usual. Pack members nodded respectfully as I passed—not for me, but for the coffee destined for their Alpha King.

Stepping up to his open office door, I froze.

Olivia Stone sat intimately close to Ethan, their lips meeting in a private embrace that spoke volumes more than mere friendship. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers splayed possessively over his heart.

The tray jolted in my grip.

Olivia pulled away quickly, guilt flashing across her beautiful face before she composed herself. Her lavender-gray eyes met mine briefly before sliding away.

Ethan's eyes darkened as he barked, "Who allowed you to come in here?!"

The fury in his voice made me flinch. Seven years of marriage, and this was how he spoke to me.

Holding the tray like a shield, I managed, "I came to deliver your coffee—"

Before I could continue, Gregory Parker appeared beside me, his voice laced with contempt: "This is so pointless."

His words implied I had deliberately interrupted, perhaps hoping to cause a scene between Ethan and Olivia. As if I would humiliate myself that way.

"Get out at once!" Ethan hissed, his Alpha command making the air crackle with power.

The tray shook violently in my hands; burning coffee sloshed over my fingertip. I bit back a gasp at the sharp pain.

Stung by both the burn and the deeper wound of his rejection, I turned on my heel and fled, dignity my only remaining shield as my heart shattered anew.

I didn't stop until I reached the restroom, locking myself in a stall until my breathing steadied.

When I emerged, I pressed the reddened tip of my finger under cold water until the agony dulled. From my bag, I withdrew the familiar Silvermoon Healing Salve and applied it with practiced care.

A bittersweet smile touched my lips as I watched the redness fade. I remembered how I once had no idea how to brew coffee or cook a proper meal. Every lesson learned, every skill acquired, had been for him and our child—an offering to a mate who never truly saw me.

Now those skills felt like relics of a life I had outgrown, chains I was determined to break.

I closed my eyes, steadied my breath, and returned to my workstation, steeling myself against fresh tears.

The morning crawled by. I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the whispers that had started circulating.

Quiet murmurs drifted across the office floor among pack members: "I heard the Alpha King's favored guest was here today."

"His favored guest? Who is she? Powerful pack background?"

The voices hushed when I rose to join the morning briefing related to the medical division's progress. I offered the barest nod, forcing my gaze on the projector screen displaying pack health statistics as the meeting began.

Yet every statistic and project update blurred beneath the weight of that morning's discovery, the image of Ethan and Olivia burned behind my eyes.

Jackson Thornton, one of Ethan's primary Betas, led the meeting with his usual efficiency. He glanced at me once, his expression unreadable. Did he know? Of course he did. Everyone probably knew except me.

"The healing division's quarterly results show a 12% improvement in recovery rates," Jackson announced, nodding in my direction. "Dr. Morgan's implementation of the new protocols has proven effective."

A few heads turned toward me. I acknowledged the comment with a slight nod, though the professional recognition felt hollow now.

When the meeting adjourned, I gathered my notes and joined a few colleagues heading back to our department. We stepped into the elevator together, discussing the upcoming project deadlines.

Exiting on the executive floor, we nearly collided with an entourage: Olivia Stone at its center, flanked by senior pack executives Richard Bennett, Patricia Winters, Marcus Daniels, and Vanessa Hughes.

Each executive wore a fawning smile, stepping aside as if Olivia already held the authority of the Luna. Olivia's designer attire—a lavender dress that highlighted her perfect figure—and graceful poise left no doubt she carried the mantle of the "Alpha King's favorite."

"Thank you all for showing me around the company headquarters," she said in a voice both polite and possessive.

The executives murmured in reverence, "With your connection to the Alpha King, this is simply our duty, Miss Stone."

Their eyes then flicked to our group, brows knitting in displeasure at our presence in their path.

Director Bennett stepped forward, his tone sharp and public: "Watch where you're going! What if you bumped into Miss Stone? Show some respect!"

The rebuke, clearly aimed beyond mere clumsiness, hung heavy in the air, another public confirmation of my diminished standing.

I kept my expression neutral, though inside I was seething. Not at Olivia—she was merely taking advantage of an opportunity—but at the executives who had once bowed to me as their Luna.

"My apologies," I said calmly, stepping aside to let them pass.

Olivia's eyes met mine briefly. Something flickered there—not quite guilt, not quite triumph. She nodded slightly before continuing down the hallway, her entourage trailing behind her like courtiers following a queen.

My colleagues exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing. What could they say? The hierarchy was clear to everyone.

The Alpha King had chosen his new favorite, and it wasn't his mate.