CHAPTER 4

"I told you to call her, not to give me a look like I’ve lost my mind, Teresa!"

I paced the length of the dining hall at the Blackwood Estate, my boots echoing against the cold stone floor. The house manager, Teresa, stood trembling by the sideboard, her eyes darting toward the shattered remains of my smartphone on the rug. I’d slammed it down the moment I read the first page of the documents left in the guest wing.

"Due to the husband's sexual dysfunction and infertility, the marriage has irretrievably broken down."

The words were a snarl on the page, a direct insult to my status as the Alpha and captain of the Manchester Ice Kings. My jaw was locked so tight I could feel the pulse thumping in my temple.

Dysfunction? Infertility?

I slammed the papers onto the Macassar ebony table. The nerve of that woman. Had she forgotten the way she’d gripped my shoulders three nights ago? I had marked her, claimed her, and made her scream my name until her voice gave out. Her body had been a wildfire under mine, far more honest than the ice-cold legal jargon she was hiding behind now.

I hadn't wanted this marriage, but the pack elders and my grandmother, Doña Carmen, had been relentless. They’d driven Valentina out of the city, claiming an actress was a "taint" on the Blackwood lineage. I’d chosen Elena Navarro because she was the only debutante who didn’t look at me like I was a trophy to be mounted. She was quiet, humble, and stayed out of my way.

For three years, she’d been the perfect Luna. She kept the estate running, managed my schedule, and never questioned my late nights at the rink or the "business trips" to London. But now, she wanted a pup.

It wasn't about a child. I knew the game. This was a power move. She wanted to solidify her place, to become the "ideal wife" my mother, Isabella, and the rest of the pack demanded. She wanted to leash me.

I’d ignored her for three days, assuming she was just sulking. It wasn't until my breakfast was served by a stranger that I realized the silence in the house was literal.

"Teresa," I growled, pointing at the stairs. "Go up to her room and bring the Luna down here. Now."

Teresa scrambled up the stairs, only to return minutes later, her face drained of color. "Alpha... the Luna isn't in her suite. Her wardrobes are half-empty, and she... she left this on your desk."

She handed me the envelope. I scanned the lines, my wolf pacing restlessly in the back of my mind. Divorce papers. And the financial demands—a split of the Blackwood holdings? She’d married me for the status and the gold, playing the "dutiful mate" while waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Freeze her accounts," I told my assistant over my shoulder. "Every card, every line of credit tied to the Blackwood Group. She’ll be calling by tomorrow morning, begging for a way to pay for her mother’s care at St. Mary’s."

But the call didn't come. By the next morning, the silence was deafening. I sat at the head of the table, glaring at the navy suit laid out for me. Elena usually planned my outfits a month in advance, matching the silk ties to the color of my eyes—a detail I’d never admitted I noticed.

"Call her," I commanded Teresa. "Put it on speaker."

The phone rang twice before a sleepy, guarded voice answered. "Who is this?"

She didn't even have my number saved.

"Luna," Teresa stammered, looking at me for cues. "I’m sorry to bother you, but... where did you put the Alpha’s navy suit? The one for the board meeting at the Blackwood Tower?"

I smirked, leaning in to hear her reaction.

"Fifth cubby on the left, Teresa," Elena replied instinctively, her voice thick with sleep. "The cufflinks are in the silver tray."

She was still tethered to her duties. She couldn't help it.

"And the shirt?" Teresa pressed. "There are so many whites..."

"The crisp linen! Any of them!" Elena’s patience snapped.

"And the tie? And the skates for practice? Maybe you should come back for just an hour to help—"

"If he’s too incompetent to dress himself, let him lead the pack meeting naked!" Elena shouted, and the line went dead.

I snatched the phone from the table, my eyes flashing. "Call her back. Now."

This time, she picked up immediately, her voice like a winter gale. "I am not three years old, Elena. You have a role to fulfill."

"I am sending an inventory of your belongings via courier," she said, her tone shifting from heat to a cold, wounded hollow. "Do not contact me for trivial matters again, Sebastian."

"Trivial?" I let out a dark, mirthless laugh. "You spent three years micromanaging the scent of my laundry and the color of my socks. Was that your only 'life goal'?"

The silence on the other end was heavy, like the air before a lightning strike.

"You're right," she whispered, and for a second, I felt a sharp, unexpected pang of guilt. "Being your servant wasn't much of a goal. That’s why I’m done. Sign the papers, Sebastian. Let the contract die."

"I don't have time for your tantrums, Elena. Come home and we can discuss a budget increase."

"Tantrums?" She let out a jagged laugh. "You’ve treated me like a stray you took in for PR purposes. Strays don't throw tantrums, Sebastian. They just leave."

She hung up again. I felt a surge of fury. A servant? Who spends their nights tangled in the sheets with a servant? Who gives a servant the Blackwood name?

My phone rang again. I answered, hoping to hear her voice breaking.

"Boss," it was Theo Bennett, my lead scout. "It's about Miss Valentina Cruz. She’s at St. Mary’s Private Hospital. There’s been a complication with the... the situation. She needs to see you. Now."

I stood up, grabbing my coat. Valentina. The woman I’d actually chosen before the pack had interfered. I felt a pang of responsibility. Elena was just playing a game—her father, Fernando, would never allow the Navarro-Blackwood alliance to crumble. His failing shipping business was held together by my signatures alone.

"I’m coming," I said, heading for the door.

Elena would be back. She had nowhere else to go. No one walks away from a Blackwood and survives the winter.