No Longer Yours:Pregnant and Divorced by the Regretful Alpha

THREE YEARS...

For three years, I had lived under the same roof as my husband, yet we were no different from strangers. We crossed paths only during official pack matters, family dinners, or other unavoidable occasions, and even then, he barely spared me a glance. Tonight was our third wedding anniversary, and once again, I sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table in the Blackwood packhouse, pretending the empty seat opposite me didn't slice a piece of my soul away.

I looked down at the elaborate dinner I had spent five hours preparing beef bourguignon, roasted vegetables, and a delicate chocolate tart. All of Christopher's favorites. The candles I lit an hour ago were already burning low, their wax dripping down like slow, silent tears onto the pristine white tablecloth.

"Luna Sarah, should I put the food in the warmer?"

I looked up to see Martha, the head packhouse Omega, standing near the kitchen door. Her eyes held that familiar look of pity I despised. Everyone knew the truth. I was Luna by title, but to Christopher, I was just an unwanted ghost.

"Just five more minutes, Martha," I said, forcing a gentle smile. "He called earlier and said the border dispute was almost resolved. He'll be here."

Martha hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she bowed her head.

"Of course, Luna."

As she retreated, I let my smile fade. My hands gripped the fabric of my emerald green dress. I had bought it specifically for tonight, hoping against hope that it might make him look at me for more than a fleeting second.

Our marriage wasn't born out of love or the sacred mate bond. It was an arrangement. Three years ago, Christopher's father forced the union to secure an alliance between our packs. I had been a naive twenty one year old, secretly harboring a deep crush on the fierce future Alpha.

But Christopher's heart already belonged to someone else: Rihanna Carter.

She was his first love, the woman everyone expected to become Luna. But right before Christopher took the mantle, Rihanna abruptly vanished. Heartbroken, Christopher succumbed to his father's demands and married me.

He made one thing clear on our wedding night: I would carry the title of Luna, but ours would never be a real marriage. From that day on, he moved into another bedroom, keeping his distance while we lived separate lives under the same roof.

The heavy oak front doors groaned open, breaking the stifling silence.

My heart did a foolish flutter.

A wave of thick, intoxicating scent washed through the dining room pine, cedarwood, and the sharp, electric tang of pure Alpha power.

Christopher was home.

I stood up quickly, smoothing down my dress, my breathing hitching as his tall, imposing figure stepped into the room. He was stunningly handsome, with sharp features, a jawline carved from marble, and dark eyes that usually burned with absolute authority.

Tonight, those eyes were completely dead to me.

He didn't glance at the candles, the table, or my dress. He pulled off his heavy leather jacket and tossed it onto a chair.

"You're late," I murmured, keeping my voice soft to banish any hint of accusation. "I made your favorites."

Christopher pulled out his chair and sat down, his movements rigid and cold.

"I told you not to wait up for me, Sarah. I have a pack to run. I don't have time to play house."

That was Christopher. We lived in the same packhouse, but days could pass without a real conversation. Every encounter between us was brief, formal, and painfully distant.

The coldness in his tone felt like a physical slap, but I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I sat back down.

"It's our anniversary, Christopher. Three years. I just thought... we could have one dinner together. Without pack business."

I placed a portion of the beef onto his plate. When I reached out to pour his wine, my fingers accidentally brushed against his knuckles.

A sharp spark of electricity zapped through my skin the faint, agonizing remnant of the mate bond I felt toward him.

Christopher pulled his hand back instantly, as if my touch had burned him.

"Don't," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave.

My hand trembled, and I slowly set the wine crystal down.

"Is it really that torturous to be near me? I am your wife, Christopher. I manage the packhouse, care for the injured, and support you through every crisis. When will you stop punishing me for a marriage your father forced upon us?"

Christopher laid his fork down with a sharp clink that echoed off the high ceilings. He leaned back, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an icy intensity.

"You knew exactly what this was when you signed the marriage certificate, Sarah," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You wanted the title. You wanted to be Luna of the strongest pack in the region. My father gave you that. But do not demand affection from me. You are a duty. Nothing more, nothing less."

A tear slipped from my eye, burning a hot path down my cheek.

"I didn't want the title, Christopher. I wanted you."

"Then you made a foolish gamble," he replied coldly, turning his attention back to his plate, completely unfazed by my tears.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I couldn't eat.

Every bite felt like ash in my mouth.

I watched the man I loved treat me like an invisible nuisance, wondering if my patience would ever be enough to thaw the ice around his heart. I had spent three years hoping that my loyalty, warmth, and devotion would eventually make him see me.

Suddenly, the heavy silence was shattered by the sharp ringing of Christopher's phone.

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, his brow furrowing as he looked at the screen.

It was a restricted number.

He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Alpha Blackwood."

I watched him, expecting another border patrol report.

But within seconds, Christopher's entire demeanor shattered.

The cold Alpha vanished.

His face went completely pale.

His dark eyes widened in absolute shock.

He gripped the phone so tightly I could hear the casing groan beneath his strength.

"Say that again," Christopher whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion I had never heard before.

I sat frozen.

My wolf whimpered inside me.

A terrible feeling settled deep in my stomach.

"Where are you?" Christopher shot to his feet, knocking his chair backward. It crashed onto the floor, but he didn't even notice.

"Rihanna... is it really you? Where have you been?"

The name pierced my heart like a dagger.

Rihanna.

The voice on the other end spoke rapidly.

Christopher listened, and his expression softened into a look filled with relief, longing, and tenderness.

He had never looked at me that way.

Not once.

"Stay right there," he said urgently. "Don't move. I'm coming to get you. Right now."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Without another glance at me, he strode toward the front door.

"Christopher, wait!" I called, rushing after him. "We haven't even spent ten minutes together tonight. It's our anniversary, Christopher."

He stopped.

For a moment, I thought he might turn around.

Instead, he spoke with his back still facing me.

"Rihanna is at the northern border," he said quietly. "She's hurt... and she's finally come home."

"And what about me?" My voice broke. "I'm your wife. I'm your Luna."

Only then did he glance over his shoulder.

His eyes were cold.

Empty.

Decisive.

"She's back, Sarah," he said. "Which means this farce of a marriage is officially over."

He paused just long enough for the words to sink in.

"Have your things packed by the time I return."

The front door slammed shut.

And with it...

The last piece of my heart shattered.