Rise Of The Betrayed Omega

**Stella's POV**

They say a mate can sense betrayal through the bond. They're wrong. I felt nothing when my husband touched another woman. Nothing when my daughter learned to call someone else mommy. I felt nothing until I heard him say he was leaving me.

---

"I hope I look nice," I whisper to my reflection, even though I already know the answer. I don't. The lingerie cost me two weeks of cleaning jobs, but it can't hide the stretch marks or the exhaustion in my eyes.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my mate and I's bedroom, smoothing my hands down the pale pink silk of the lingerie I bought three months ago. It cost me two weeks of cleaning jobs to afford it, but I told myself it would be worth it.

Tonight is my birthday.

Twenty-five years old.

Six years of marriage.

And Cole has never once celebrated with me.

But tonight will be different. It has to be.

I adjust the thin straps, trying to ignore how exposed I feel. The silk barely covers anything, clinging to curves that aren't as firm as they used to be. Two pregnancies have left their stretch marks on my stomach, with softer flesh around my hips.

I wonder if Cole will notice.

'This is a bad idea, Stella,' my wolf Piper murmurs anxiously in my mind. 'He's been distant for two years. This won't change anything.'

"It might," I whisper to my reflection, even though I don't believe it.

The clock on the nightstand reads 12:47 AM.

Cole should have been home hours ago. He texted at 8 PM saying he was working late with Sabrina, his Beta, going over pack security reports.

He always says that. I've stopped asking questions because omegas don't question their Alphas... Good wives wait patiently.

So I wait.

I sit on the edge of Cole's bed since I only occupy a small corner of it most nights and I wait.

12:52 AM.

12:58 AM.

1:03 AM.

Finally, I hear the front door open. Heavy footsteps follow in the hallway and then the sound of keys hitting the entry table.

He is here....

My heart hammers against my ribs.

I stand quickly, smoothing the silk one more time, and position myself near the doorway so he'll see me immediately when he walks in.

'Please let this work,' I pray silently. 'Please let him want me.'

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens.

Cole walks in, already loosening his tie. He's still devastatingly handsome—tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair and those piercing blue eyes that used to make my breath catch. He looks tired, his jaw tight with tension.

And then suddenly I catch Sabrina's scent on him.

I know that scent of sweet vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. I've smelled it on him before, but tonight it's stronger. Clinging to his shirt and skin.

Goddess, I hate that woman...

But Cole doesn't care. He just walks past me toward the closet, pulling off his tie.

"Cole?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended.

He pauses, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes sweep over the lingerie, my carefully styled hair, and the cheap makeup I spent an hour applying briefly and then he looks away without a reaction.

"What are you doing up?" he asks flatly, turning back to the closet.

My throat tightens. "It's… it's my birthday."

"I know."

That's it. Just I know and not happy birthday, you look beautiful.

I force myself to take a step closer, trying to keep my voice steady. "I thought maybe we could… spend some time together. Just the two of us."

He pulls off his shirt and tosses it into the hamper, his back to me. "I'm tired, Stella. It's been a long day and ruling this pack is a tiresome job."

"I know, but—" I swallow hard, gathering courage. "Cole, it's been so long since we… since we've been intimate. I miss you. I miss us."

"There's nothing to miss." His tone is cold, dismissive. "Go to bed."

The words hit me like a slap, but I don't move because now I'm angry.

I open my mouth to argue, and beg him to please just really look at me—but the words die in my throat.

Because I've been annoyed and begged before.

And it never changes anything.

"You smell like her," The words slip out before I can stop them.

Cole goes still. Slowly, he turns to face me, his expression hard. "What did you just say?"

My heart pounds, but I force myself to hold his gaze. "Sabrina. You smell like her."

For a moment, something flickers in his eyes—guilt? anger?—but it's gone before I can name it.

"We were working late," he says flatly. "And like I always tell you, she was standing close while we reviewed documents. That's all."

I scoff inwardly at his statement. "Cole—"

"That's all," he repeats, his voice dropping into that Alpha tone that makes my wolf whimper and tuck her tail in-between my legs. "Don't start making accusations you can't prove, Stella. It's beneath you."

I want to argue and demand the truth, but my throat closes up, and all I can do is stand there in my stupid, expensive lingerie while my mate looks at me like I'm nothing.

"Go to bed," he says again, softer this time but no warmer. "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. I don't want to disturb you."

"But you won't...."

He walks past me before I can finish my sentence, and I catch another whiff of vanilla and cinnamon. My stomach twists.

Why does he prefer Sabrina's company to mine?

The door closes behind him with a quiet click.

And I'm alone.

Again... Why does he do this to me???

---

An hour later, I can't sleep.

I lie in our bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying the last six years in my mind.

How did I get here?

I remember the day Cole came to the Crescent Hollow Pack, six years ago. I was nineteen, and he was twenty-five—already an Alpha, and already feared throughout the southern region.

"I'm looking for a bride," he'd announced to my stepfather, Alpha Peter Carter, in our small pack meeting hall. "A virgin bride. It's important to me."

I'd been standing in the back of the room, too shocked to speak because Virgin brides were rare. Most wolves mated young, and the concept felt archaic, and almost insulting.

"My stepdaughter Stella is unmated," Peter had said, his eyes gleaming with opportunity. "And she's definitely pure."

I'd wanted to sink through the floor.

Later, when Cole asked to speak with me privately, I'd refused him outright.

"I'm sorry, Alpha Grant, but I'm waiting for my fated mate," I'd told him, keeping my chin high despite my trembling hands. "I don't want an arranged marriage."

But Cole didn't give up.

He came back the next day. And the next. And the next.

He brought me flowers. He took me on walks through the forest. He promised me safety, protection, a good life.

"Your pack is small," he'd said gently, taking my hand. "Vulnerable. If we marry, I'll protect your family. Your parents. Everyone you love. You'll never have to worry about rogue attacks or territory disputes again."

"But we're not fated mates," I'd whispered, my heart aching. "What if I meet mine someday?"

"Then we'll deal with it together," he'd promised, his blue eyes so sincere I'd been naive and desperate to save my family.

So I'd said yes.

Fast forward to our wedding a week later.... It was beautiful. The whole pack celebrated. And on our wedding night, I'd been nervous but excited, ready to give myself to my new mate.

That's when I'd discovered the truth.

Cole had a micropenis.

I hadn't known what to expect—my only experience had been some heavy touching with my ex-boyfriend in high school, nothing more. But when Cole undressed, I'd seen it so much smaller than I'd glimpsed on my ex.

And Cole had seen the moment of surprise I couldn't hide.

"This is why I needed a virgin," he'd said quietly, his jaw tight with humiliation. "Someone who wouldn't compare me."

My heart had broken for him.

"Cole, I don't care," I'd whispered, reaching for him. "I just want to be with you. We'll make it work."

And we did. Sort of.

It wasn't easy. The fit was awkward, and I could barely feel him inside me. But I'd loved him, so I'd smiled and made encouraging sounds and told him it felt good even when it didn't.

After Maya was born a year into our marriage, things changed. Childbirth had stretched me, and suddenly even the small amount of friction we'd had was gone. Cole couldn't feel anything. Neither could I.

We tried a few times. He'd get frustrated. I'd pretend it felt good. We'd both lie there afterward, not speaking.

Then I got pregnant with Noah somehow during one of those desperate attempts.

After Noah was born, Cole stopped trying completely.

"I'm too busy," he'd said whenever I'd tried to initiate intimacy.

"Work is overwhelming. Maybe next week."

Next week never came. It's now been 2 years since he'd touched or looked at me with desire.

Now he comes home smelling like Sabrina, and I'm supposed to believe they were just working late.

I press my face into the pillow and let myself cry, quietly, so no one will hear.

Happy birthday to me.