Chapter 2

Evelyn’s POV

The last email pinged into my inbox at 6:47 p.m. I closed the laptop, rubbed the back of my neck, and glanced around the quiet executive floor. Alexander’s office door was already dark. He’d left hours ago—probably with her. 

I am his secretary here. 

I am his Luna at the pack house. 

I am his wife at home. 

Three roles, one lie. This is the “return” love gave me after seven years of chasing it. I’d been switching between these three roles, giving everything I had, only to be repaid with Alexander’s infidelity. 

I gathered my things and headed to the underground parking lot. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I walked past rows of gleaming vehicles. Then I saw them. 

Alexander stood beside his black SUV, one arm around Scarlett Hale’s waist, guiding her gently into the passenger seat like she was fragile glass. She wore a red dress that clung to her curves, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. When she looked up and caught my gaze, her lips curved into a deliberate smile. She leaned in closer to him, pressing her body against his side. 

Alexander didn’t pull away. 

His eyes flicked to mine. For a heartbeat, something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe guilt—but it vanished as quickly as it came. He gave me a brief nod, the same one he’d give an employee, then slid into the driver’s seat. 

I let out a soft, cold laugh that echoed in the empty garage. The kind of anger I felt inside was hot and sharp, like claws raking down my spine. Veyra paced furiously, demanding blood for the insult. 

He had held her by the waist, as if that touch belonged to her now. As if seven years of my body beneath his hands, my skin bearing his mark, meant nothing. 

I turned, climbed into my own car, and drove away without looking back.

That night, I had just finished my shower when I heard the front door open. Alexander’s footsteps moved steadily through the house. I stood in front of the vanity in our bedroom, applying moisturizer with slow strokes, pretending not to notice him enter. 

He came up behind me, hands sliding around my waist, fingers splaying possessively over my stomach. His lips warmly brushed the side of my neck where his mark still lingered. He pressed a slow kiss to the faded scar, then another, trailing his mouth along the curve of my shoulder. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured against my skin, voice low and rough. 

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. 

In the past, his touch had set me on fire. A single brush of his lips against my neck used to unravel me—my breath catching, my body arching into him, heat flooding every inch of me until I was lost in the way he kissed me, the way he moved inside me. I had craved him, loved the feel of his hands claiming me, loved how he made me feel wanted, cherished, alive.

Now, as his fingers traced familiar paths across my skin, I felt nothing.

No spark. No warmth. No ache of desire.

Just the dull, empty weight of a body going through motions it no longer believed in.

His mouth moved lower, seeking the response he remembered, but my heart stayed silent, my skin cold beneath his heat.

The woman who used to melt for him was gone—after his betrayal.

And I wasn’t bringing her back.

His hands drifted higher, sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the thin silk of my robe. He turned me gently to face him, cupping my jaw as he leaned in. His mouth found mine. The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entry, one hand sliding down to grip my hip, pulling me flush against him. 

I let him. 

He pulled back slightly, breath uneven, searching my face. “You’re not with me.” 

I met his gaze coolly, holding myself still. “I’m tired.” 

His brow furrowed. “Are you angry?” 

“Should I be?” 

He sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. I hadn’t said a word about what happened, yet he already looked worn down by the need to explain—as if my question itself was unreasonable. “It’s not what you think. Scarlett’s pack has a major supply agreement with ours. Asides that, Crimson Ridge has direct trade ties to the Lycan Kingdom—rare resources, even diplomatic channels that no other werewolf pack can touch. If all goes according to plan, it’ll be a dealbreaker for Shadowfang.

“You need to understand this,” he continued, his tone firm, almost instructive. “I have nothing going on with Scarlett. Besides, I mostly deal with her brother, Declan. She’s just… there sometimes.” 

So Crimson Ridge has ties to my kingdom, the one whose princess he’d married without ever knowing, and he’s throwing it all away for a shallow alliance with a lesser pack. 

I raised an eyebrow. “You have nothing going on with her, really? So explain what I saw in the parking lot? When you put your arm around her and let her press herself against you?” 

His jaw tightened. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Am I?” I stepped out of his hold, forcing down the pain in my chest. “If you want to change partners, Alexander, just say it. We can divorce. Break the bond. It’s not complicated.” 

His eyes darkened, the air thickening with his Alpha aura. “Don’t say that again.”

He grabbed my chin, fingers firm but not bruising. “You are my Luna. My wife. My mate. You don’t get to throw around words like ‘divorce’ like it’s nothing. And I am your Alpha. You can not speak to me like that.” 

I held his stare, refusing to flinch. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

I knew my attitude had provoked him. The fury flashing in his eyes. He was just about to speak when his phone rang. 

The sound cut through the room. 

His expression shifted instantly as he glanced at the screen. Whatever he had been about to say died on his tongue. 

“We’ll talk later,” he said curtly. 

And just like that, he turned and stormed out. The door slammed behind him. 

A few minutes later, I heard him downstairs—his voice low on the phone. I also heard a female voice on the other end. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Wait for me.” 

Then the front door opened and closed. The engine of his SUV roared to life and faded down the driveway. 

Again, I’d lost count of how many times he’d left this house late at night—for another woman

I stood by the window, watching the taillights disappear into the night. My chest ached, but the ache was no longer for him. 

It was for the woman I used to be. 

Our marriage had become hollow. Perhaps this was the Moon Goddess’s punishment. A Lycan was never meant to bind herself to a werewolf, no matter how deep the love. I used to imagine the day I would finally tell Alexander who I truly was—I imagined how he would be surprised and would understand everything I had sacrificed for us. But reality had proven otherwise. Before I ever spoke a word of the truth, he had already strayed. 

He was no longer worthy of what I had given up for him. And I knew, if I told him now, he would love my crown and the power my name carried more. 

My father had been right all along; werewolves were not like us. 

I turned the ring on my finger once, twice, then loosened my grip. Not now. 

For the next three days, Alexander didn’t come home. At the company, we passed like strangers—polite nods, brief emails, nothing more. At the pack house, the same. He was everywhere and nowhere at once. 

On the fourth day, I finished my work at the pack house and walked through the common lounge toward the exit. A group of mid-ranking pack members lounged on the sofas, phones in hand, voices low but not low enough. 

“Do you see Scarlett’s post? Look at that necklace—pure platinum with that sapphire. She’s wearing it everywhere now.” 

Another voice laughed. “Yeah, and that hand in the background? That’s definitely Alpha Alexander’s watch. Same black leather strap.” 

My steps slowed. 

Someone else chimed in. “Seven years, and Evelyn’s still playing secretary and nanny. Scarlett’s an Alpha’s daughter—pretty, presentable. No wonder he takes her everywhere instead.” 

A third voice, lower, smug: “Poor omega. Wasted seven years, and in the end, he still doesn’t want her. When he’s done with her, maybe I’ll take her over and—” 

I stepped into view. 

The group froze. 

I smiled, slow and sharp. “Seven years weren’t wasted,” I said calmly. “I took his first time. I used him to satisfy my own needs. Worth every second.” 

I let my gaze slide over the man who’d spoken last—a mid-ranking enforcer with a cocky smirk that was unsurprisingly irritating. 

“And you?” I tilted my head, looking him up and down. “Even if I never wanted Alexander again, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” 

Silence. 

Their faces paled. Expressions shifted to shock. 

Then I felt it—the heavy, unmistakable press of Alpha aura at my back. 

I turned. 

Alexander stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes burning with fury as they locked onto me. 

The room went deadly quiet.