Chapter 2

My dad did not pry into the reason for my split with Malcolm. Instead, he assured me with unwavering conviction that he would always be there, that the family business would always welcome me.

Once we said our goodbyes, I pulled a document from the deepest corner of the safe—a bonding dissolution agreement, already signed by Malcolm.

It was his wedding gift to me, eight years back.

"Mila, I love you, truly. It doesn't matter if you're at your strongest or weakest, or that I'm just a regular werewolf or the pack alpha. In our love, you're always in charge. If I ever cause you a speck of unhappiness, you have the power to leave me, to let me live in agony."

We were young and on fire for each other, convinced we would never need such an agreement.

Yet today, I signed my name on that paper.

It felt like a rusty blade was slowly carving out my heart, the pain blurring my vision. However, I steeled myself, tucked the agreement away, and stepped outside.

Just one trip to city hall, and in three days, Malcolm and I would be history.

He would lose me forever, just like he said before.

Stepping out of the villa, I barely had time to breathe in the fresh air when a car I knew all too well came hurtling down the driveway, stopping abruptly right in front of me.

The door flew open, and out came Malcolm, looking like he had been through a marathon. His eyes were red and weary, but when he caught sight of me, his worry was unmistakable.

"Mila!"

He closed the distance in a few quick strides and wrapped me in a tight hug, no questions asked.

"What's going on? Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

I was caught off guard. It was not time for his return; he always came back after two weeks, every year. What brought him back so soon?

He kissed my forehead gently, a whisper of regret in his touch.

"I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have left for so long. I promise—it won't happen again. Can you forgive me, just this once?"

His voice was soft, almost pleading, and his green eyes held mine with such intensity, I felt like I was the only person in his world.

For a split second, my heart skipped a beat for him again.

However, then I saw them—the woman and child in the backseat.

Maybe my stare was too fiery, too revealing, because Malcolm finally remembered he was not alone in the car. He coughed awkwardly, opened the door, and rushed to explain.

"This is James, the pup my mom adopted for us while she was abroad, and his nanny, Elaine Larson.

"You know how she's always been about us not having pups. She saw a pup who looked a lot like us and got carried away, adopting him without asking us first.

"However, don't worry, if you're not okay with it, I'll turn her down and send them back."

I was not blind. The boy was the spitting image of Malcolm as a child; there was no way he was adopted.

It hit me then, after all those years of blind trust, that he had not even bothered to come up with a good lie. He thought I would fall for such a pathetic excuse.

A wave of bitterness rose within me, and before I knew it, a single tear escaped down my cheek.

Malcolm's reaction was immediate, his movements frantic as if he had been burned, trying desperately to wipe my tears.

"Honey, why the tears? Don't you like the little guy? I can send him away right now, okay?"

My lips quivered, and I fought to push down the bitterness rising in my throat. Before I could utter a word, a woman's voice cut through.

"Sir, the boy didn't want to worry you and wanted you to come home early to see Mrs. Lloyd, so he didn't say a word about feeling unwell. He's running a fever now."

"What? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Malcolm's face turned stormy in an instant. He shoved me aside, scooped up the child, and marched into our home, barking orders at the maid.

"Get Mr. Porter here, now!"

Unprepared, I stumbled and fell, my palm scraping against the ground, the sting making me gasp.

However, the physical pain was nothing compared to the sting of Malcolm's dismissal.

So, for that child, he could discard me as easily as one kicks a pebble out of the way.

Elaine, with a sly twist of her hips and a smirk, helped me to my feet and murmured in my ear.

"Mila, just between us, James is Malcolm's and my little secret."

In that instant, the pain in my hand and the ache in my heart vanished into a surreal numbness.

The hurt from the betrayal, the fight against the injustice—it all fell away into silence.

I did not scream, nor did another tear fall.

Swallowing the pain, I straightened my clothes with the last shred of grace I had left, ignoring the smug Elaine, and turned to make my way to the city hall.