Chapter 4

6:00 AM.

The silence of the bedroom was shattered by the sharp ring .

Ethan practically ejected from the bed. He grabbed his phone, a flicker of panic crossing his face.

He glanced at me, checking if I was still "asleep," then answered in a hushed voice as he hurried out to the balcony.

I opened my eyes. My wolf hearing sharpened, picking up every sound through the glass doors. I listened to him standing in the freezing wind, his voice so gentle it could drip honey, pleading with whoever was on the other end.

I didn't need to smell the air to know who it was.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Ethan pushed the door open. As he changed his clothes, he said, "Ivy, what do you want for breakfast?"

I rolled over. "Whatever."

Ethan rushed out the door.

Half an hour later, he returned, looking travel-worn. In his hands were two roasted deer legs that had gone stone cold and a cup of goat milk that had lost all its steam.

"Ivy, the line at that specialty restaurant was too long, so I just bought something from a roadside stall. Eat it while it's... well, try to eat."

Roadside stall. Cold goat milk.

So this was his "deep affection."

I didn't touch the breakfast. I just watched as he took out his phone, snapped a photo of the dry, unappetizing deer legs, and posted it to the Werewolf Social Network.

[Ran across half the territory just to buy Luna breakfast. It was hard work, but as long as she likes it, it's worth it.]

Almost instantly, the post was flooded with likes and comments.

"The Alpha is such a simp for her!"

"Is this what a fated mate bond looks like?"

"Ivy is so lucky, truly blessed by the Moon Goddess!"

Ethan replied to the comments with satisfaction, a smug smile on his lips.

However, I noticed that among all those likes, Daisy's name was missing.

That was because, at this very moment, Daisy was posting a photo in a "Close Friends" group—visible only to him.

The photo showed a steaming, top-tier steak, rare and bloody. The caption read: [Even though he had to cross half the territory, he still delivered the fresh kill straight to me. Love you, my Wolf King.]

The timestamp? One hour ago.

It turned out his "running across half the territory" was to deliver fresh meat to his mistress. On his way back, he just grabbed some cold scraps fit for a stray dog to shut his wife up.

I stared at the cold goat’s milk—thick, pungent with that overpowering gamey stench—and felt the irony slap me hard across the face.

"Why aren't you eating? No appetite?" Ethan put down his phone, asking with feigned concern.

"I'm full."

I stood up. "I'm not going to the Alpha Gathering tonight."

"You have to," Ethan objected immediately. "All the other Alphas are bringing their mates. If you don't go, they'll laugh at me. Besides..."

He paused, his eyes shifting shiftily. "Besides, I want to show them how beautiful my Luna is."