Rejected For Being PlusSize Omega, Now The Alpha's Obsession

Ophelia's POV

I must have checked the time on my phone at least ten times in the last five minutes.

It was only three forty-two in the afternoon, which meant I still had eighteen minutes before I was supposed to meet Morris. Even so, my heart refused to settle. It beat a little faster every time I looked at the clock, making me smile despite myself.

The anticipation in my chest felt almost ridiculous for a woman who had been married for five years. Yet there I was, gripping the steering wheel and glancing at the time again as though the minutes might move faster if I stared hard enough.

Today felt like a turning point.

For weeks, I had been looking forward to our anniversary. After everything that had changed between us lately, I needed today to go well. More than that, I needed to believe our marriage was not slipping through my fingers.

Five years ago, Morris Carpenter had accepted our mate bond and become my husband.

For a long time, I believed our bond was unbreakable. Lately, however, doubt had begun creeping into places where certainty once lived, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the feeling refused to leave.

Morris had been distant for a month. Some days he barely seemed present even when he was sitting right beside me. He came home later than usual, spent more time away from home, and occasionally returned carrying another wolf's scent. It always faded before I could figure out who it belonged to, but every single time, Amare bristled with quiet anger inside me.

Whenever I questioned him, he always had an answer ready. A smile. A kiss on my forehead. A gentle promise that I was imagining things. Somehow, every conversation ended with me apologizing instead. Maybe that was why I had held on to hope for so long. I wanted to believe the man I married would never lie to me.

Earlier that morning, he had called me shortly after leaving home.

"Ophelia," he had said, his deep voice warm and familiar.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what day it is," he teased.

I laughed softly.

"As if I'd survive forgetting our anniversary."

"Good."

There was a brief pause before he continued.

"Meet me at Crystal Moon Hotel at four."

"Is that where we're celebrating?" I asked, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

"It is." His voice dropped into the tone that always made my cheeks warm. "And wear that black lace lingerie I like."

I rolled my eyes even as a smile spread across my face.

"The lace one?"

"The one that drives me crazy," he replied without missing a beat. "You look incredible in it."

"Morris..."

"What? Am I not allowed to compliment my wife?"

His laughter stayed with me long after the call ended, and every time I remembered it, I caught myself smiling all over again.

For a brief moment, I felt eighteen again.

The exact moment my wolf recognized his scent.

One second I was blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, and the next, Morris walked through the door.

He had been nineteen then. Tall, confident, and wearing the kind of smile capable of making a girl forget her own name.

The instant our eyes met, Amare leaped with excitement inside me.

Mate.

The word echoed through my entire body before I could even think.

I knew the Moon Goddess had chosen him for me.

More importantly, I believed he had chosen me too.

That memory remained one of the happiest moments of my life, and perhaps that was why I was still fighting so hard for our marriage. I refused to believe the man who had once looked at me with so much love had simply disappeared.

After our call, I took my time getting ready.

The deep red wrap dress hugged every curve I possessed, drawing in my waist before flowing over my hips. I paired it with gold earrings, dark lipstick, and the black lace lingerie Morris had specifically asked me to wear.

As I fastened the hook of my heels, another memory surfaced.

Three years into our marriage, I cried after gaining weight during a particularly stressful winter.

I could not even bear to look at myself in the mirror.

I kept pulling at my clothes, convinced all Morris could see was how much bigger I had become.

Instead of laughing, he sat beside me on the bed and gently took my hands. Then he smiled.

"I love you exactly like this," he had whispered.

"I love your softness. I love every curve you've possessed. I love you this big, this beautiful. Never change yourself because you think I want someone smaller."

I remembered crying even harder after hearing those words, not because they hurt, but because they healed something inside me.

Then he kissed my hands and looked at me as though I was the most precious woman in the world.

As I drove toward the hotel, I held on to that memory.

I wanted to believe that man still existed somewhere behind the distance that had grown between us lately.

The towering structure of Crystal Moon Hotel soon came into view, pulling me from my thoughts.

It was one of the most prestigious hotels in Stormridge Pack territory, known for hosting influential guests from neighboring regions. Tonight, Christmas lights shimmered across the glass exterior, while wreaths, towering trees, and the warm scent of pine and cinnamon transformed the lobby into a festive wonderland.

Normally, I would have slowed down to admire the decorations. I loved Christmas, and Morris always teased me about stopping to look at every tree we passed.

Today, I barely noticed any of it.

The moment I parked my car and stepped inside the hotel, a strange uneasiness settled over me. My smile slowly faded as my chest tightened for reasons I could not explain.

Amare paced restlessly inside my mind.

Her claws scraped against the edges of our mind-link, making my own anxiety grow stronger.

"What is it?" I asked through our mind-link.

She did not answer.

That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

Amare always sensed danger before I did, yet this time she remained unusually quiet, as though she could feel something she did not know how to explain.

I drew in a slow breath and forced myself to keep walking. Perhaps, I was overthinking things.

Today was our anniversary, and Morris was waiting for me.

That thought should have comforted me, but instead it did little to calm the uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach.

The young omega behind the reception desk greeted me with a polite smile. Her bold red lipstick stood out against her warm complexion.

"Merry Christmas. How may I help you?"

I returned her smile, although it felt a little forced.

"I'm Ophelia Carpenter. I'm here to meet my husband. He reserved a suite under Morris Carpenter."

The receptionist nodded and began typing.

At first, nothing seemed unusual. But then, her expression changed.

Her brows slowly drew together, and the polite smile disappeared from her face.

A knot formed in my stomach. 

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

She glanced at me before looking back at the monitor.

"Ophelia Carpenter, right?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between us.

The longer she stared at the screen, the harder my heart pounded against my ribs.

I could hear every beat. Something was wrong.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said at last, "but the guest registered with Morris Carpenter isn't listed under that name."

For a moment, I was certain I had heard her incorrectly.

"What do you mean?"

"The reservation belongs to Morris Carpenter, but another guest is registered alongside him."

A cold chill swept through me.

"No." I shook my head before I even realized I was doing it. "There has to be a mistake. Could you please check again?"

"Of course."

She searched the reservation again.

Those few seconds felt endless.

I found myself silently praying she would look up, smile, and tell me there had been a misunderstanding.

Instead, she slowly turned the monitor toward me.

The moment I saw the screen, every thought inside my head vanished.

My breath caught painfully in my throat. It felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.

Staring back at me was one name.

Morgana Sebastien. My best friend. My sister in everything but blood… 

Is the woman whose name appeared beneath my husband's reservation.