CHAPTER 4

The dismissal in his tone made it impossible to swallow. It was more than insulting; it was pathetic.

My eyes burned with a cold, sharp fury. "Yes, I wanted a pup once. I wanted a family with you. But now? Not a chance in hell. I’m young, Andrew. Why would I throw my life away to bear an heir for a cold-blooded relic like you? I’m not playing games. I am done. I want the divorce."

"Divorce?" He let out a dry, humorless bark of a laugh. "You screw up my life, trash my gifts, and then try to use a split as a threat? Don’t forget how you clawed your way into the title of Andrew Wolfe’s mate. You haven't earned the right to even speak about leaving."

He didn't find it funny; he looked murderous. A vein throbbed in his temple as he gripped my chin, his voice a low command. "Take it back."

"Or what? I’ll spit in your face and we can see if you can take that back," I snarled, locking eyes with him.

In the distance, the glare of approaching headlights cut through the dark, illuminating my ashen face and my half-clothed body. Panic flared—anyone passing would see the Alpha’s mate in this state. I tried to duck, but Andrew held my shoulder with a terrifying, malicious amusement, watching me tremble in my helplessness.

"I'm sorry!" I finally yelled, my pride breaking under the fear of being seen.

The next second, he grabbed a heavy wool blanket from the seat and wrapped me in it haphazardly. I scrambled to the far side of the door, as far from him as the cabin allowed.

He let me crawl away, picking up the remains of my shredded tunic and shaking it out. When no diamonds hit the floor, the reality finally sank in. The earrings were truly gone.

"Look at you, finally growing a spine," Andrew said, his voice dropping to a frigid calm. "There’s a limit to this nonsense, Lanka."

He straightened his clothes, stepped out into the night air, and slammed the door with a force that shook the frame. He climbed into the driver's seat and roared the engine to life. I curled into a ball under the blanket, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper, terrified that if I made a sound, I would shatter into a million pieces.

He didn't love me. He didn't trust me. He would never see the scars he’d left. To him, this was just another Omega tantrum. He didn't realize the sheer amount of soul-crushing courage it took for me to throw away the only thing he’d ever given me.

In the rearview mirror, Andrew’s stern face shifted. For a fleeting second, a flicker of something—heartache? panic?—crossed his features. In the past, I would have crawled into his lap and begged for a scent-marking the moment he got angry. But tonight, I stayed silent.

The drive back to the Wolfe Crest Estate was a tomb. Since the staff was at the medical center, the house was a hollow, dark cavern. Andrew carried me up to the second floor, his movements brisk, and dumped me in the bathroom. The sound of rushing water filled the room.

"What are you doing?" I rasped.

"Playing dead is over," he said, ripping the blanket away and dropping me into the tub. The water was shallow and cool. He forced my right leg onto the edge, pinning my knee down when I tried to pull back. "I have no interest in an Omega flirting with a death-wish. Warm up, get out, and fix those wounds. Keep your feet dry."

He turned and left without a backward glance.

As the water warmed, I collapsed against the porcelain, utterly drained. Outside on the balcony, I could hear the flick of a lighter. Andrew was silhouetted against the moon, smoke billowing around him.

"License plate 44-XJ," I heard his raspy voice into the phone. "Get those earrings back."

He knew exactly where they were.

I limped out of the bathroom later, wrapped in a thick robe. Andrew was sitting on the edge of our bed, his phone to his ear. "Yeah... rest up. I’ll be there tomorrow."

My heart gave a final, dull thud. Two in the morning, and Serena Wolfe was already pulling him back. She was the perfect Lunar Lady—sharp, refined, and always knowing when to play the victim.

I headed for the sofa, but before I could sit, Andrew scooped me up. At six-foot-two, he made me feel small and powerless as he tossed me onto the mattress. I scrambled up to curse him, but a wave of sudden, violent nausea hit. I lunged for the side of the bed and retched.

He patted my back, his hand surprisingly steady, and handed me a tissue and water. Once I caught my breath, he leaned in, his eyes narrowing.

"Are you pregnant?"

I choked on the water, coughing violently. "Is that a joke? Do you think I can conceive by magic, or do you have some secret Alpha talent to sire a pup remotely? You haven't touched me without a suppressant in years."

"Sharp-tongued today, aren't we?" he chuckled darkly. He seemed relieved by the impossibility of it.

He knelt by the bed, opening a medical kit. As a mate, he was cold, but as the man who had raised me, his protective instincts were still there. He treated my foot with a grace that was almost painful to watch. It took me back fourteen years, to the boy who promised I would never be hurt again.

You lied, Andrew, I thought. You’re the one who hurt me most.

He finished the bandage and tossed a plastic stick onto the duvet. "Go test yourself."

"I haven't eaten, it's just my stomach—"

"Go. Test."

He was terrified of a pup. With Serena back, a child from a "mistake" like me would be an abomination to his plans. I dragged myself into the bathroom and returned five minutes later, dropping the test on the nightstand.

"One line. Negative. Happy now?"

Andrew glanced at the test, his voice icy. "It’s for the best."

"I’ll be in the study. Reflect on your behavior," he said, walking out.

The next morning, I woke to find the gardenia earrings resting on my pillow. He’d found them. My feelings were a tangled mess of grief and anger.

My phone buzzed—Daniel Cho had returned my bag, and Carllo was on the line.

"Lanka, are you seeing this?" Carllo shouted. "The Wolfe heir is all over the news, 'returning in triumph' with his 'childhood sweetheart.' The netizens are calling Serena a 'Violin Goddess.' It's all paid for, Lanka. Everyone knows the Hawthornes bought those followers."

I smiled sadly, taking the earrings off and setting them on the vanity. "Andrew loves her, Carllo. There's nothing I can do. I'm not playing the part of the discarded mate anymore. I’m divorcing him."

The silence on the other end was deafening. Carllo knew I worshipped the ground Andrew walked on.

I went to the study and printed the papers. Then, I organized my dance records, my awards, and my resume. I sent them all to Julian Park at his new studio—it was time to find safe ground.

By the time Carllo pulled up to the estate to get me, I had a single suitcase packed. I took one last look at the Wolfe Crest, the morning light hitting the stone walls.

"Don't look back at that jerk," Carllo said, squeezing my hand. "Forward only. The next Alpha will be better trained."

"You're right," I said, wiping a stray tear. "The next one will be better."

Just then, my phone chimed. It was a text from an unknown number. Carllo glanced at it as we sat at a red light and gasped.