Chapter 2: Rejected

I nearly refused to become Stefan Catwright’s wife with everyone watching.

Returning to the ceremony had seemed easier when he was still somewhere beyond the doors, but standing in front of him at the altar made the decision feel entirely different. Stefan was undeniably handsome, and he stood tall above me, his broad shoulders hanging out from his suit. His blue eyes were always striking whenever he smirked with that usual arrogant confidence.

“Repeat after me,” the elder instructed. “I, Naomi Bellari, take Stefan Catwright as my husband and Alpha.”

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “I, Naomi Bellari…”

I stopped before reaching his name, and the pause drew quiet murmurs from the guests.

In the front row, Katerina frowned at me. I looked past her to my father, standing among the people who trusted the agreement between the Bellaris and the Catwrights, and I thought of the disgrace that would follow if I ended everything right here. I had chosen to finish the ceremony because I wanted an explanation. Part of me still believed there had to be one.

I gripped my bouquet and forced the rest out. “Take Stefan Catwright as my husband and Alpha.”

Stefan repeated his vows without hesitation. His voice remained steady when he promised to protect me, honor our bond, and place the pack above himself. I listened to him speak about honor and wondered how the word came so easily to him after the night before.

The elder pronounced us husband and wife.

Stefan took my left hand and slipped the ring onto my finger, and my hand felt numb as I did the same for him. Looking past his shoulder, I saw Phoebe standing with her arms at her sides, refusing to clap while everyone around her cheered.

Stefan leaned toward me for the ceremonial kiss. I wanted to pull away, but refusing him in front of both families would only create another scandal before I got the answers I came for. His lips touched mine briefly, without any affection, and the applause around us only made the whole thing feel false.

We moved to the back lawn of the Catwright mansion for the reception, where round tables covered in white linen surrounded a dance floor set over the grass. Stefan spent most of the evening moving from table to table, talking with guests as though nothing about the day was unusual. I walked through the crowd, enduring congratulations from one person after another while waiting for any chance to get him alone.

When I sat down at our table to catch my breath, Katerina approached with Phoebe beside her, her displeasure obvious before she even reached me.

“Smile properly,” my mother ordered, stopping by my chair. “People are beginning to notice.”

“Why is she here?” I asked.

“Phoebe is your sister,” Katerina replied, as though that settled everything.

“She was in my husband’s bed this morning.”

Phoebe checked the nearby guests before leaning closer. “Lower your voice.”

“You were not worried about shame when you slept with Stefan,” I retorted.

Katerina stepped between us, irritated with me instead of the daughter who caused the problem. “This is your wedding reception. You chose to continue, so behave like a wife instead of creating another scene with that long face.”

It was always me who was expected to behave. Phoebe could come to the reception after everything she claimed happened and still worry about being embarrassed in public.

Stefan walked over just then and pulled out the chair next to mine. Katerina took Phoebe’s arm and walked away before he could hear anything.

Stefan sat down, loosened one button at his collar, and looked at my untouched plate with irritation.

“Don’t you think it’s time you told me why you’ve been carrying a long face all day?”

“We need to talk,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “Meet me inside.”

I pushed my chair back, gathered the front of my dress, and walked away from the tables into the mansion. I took the stairs up to our bedroom, closed the door behind me, and yanked the pins out of my veil, dropping it onto the bed.

A moment later, the door opened and Stefan walked inside.

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

Stefan shut the door behind him. “Do what?”

I took my phone from the dressing table, opened the photographs, and held the screen toward him. “Why was Phoebe naked in your bed?”

Stefan took the phone and swiped through the pictures. His thumb stopped on the last one for a second before he handed it back to me. No denial, no apology. He just stood there looking annoyed that I was asking for something from him.

“You don’t have anything to say?” I demanded.

“What do you expect me to say?” he asked.

“Tell me they are false.”

“I drank last night, so I was drunk. I woke up late to prepare for the ceremony,” Stefan replied, tugging at his collar.

“Did you sleep with my sister?”

“I do not remember enough to answer that.”

Not remembering was not a denial. He could not even tell me it had not happened.

“You were in bed with Phoebe on the morning of our wedding, and you have nothing else to say?”

“I didn’t tell you I woke up with her,” Stefan said, his tone sharpening.

“We lived under the same roof for six months,” I said. “I tried to make this work. I learned everything to be a good wife for you. Was all of that meaningless?”

“You chose to do those things,” Stefan replied bluntly.

“Because I believed we were building something.”

Stefan scoffed at that. “We were preparing for an agreement between two families. You saw it as a love story.”

“So you never wanted me at all?” I asked.

Stefan frowned. “You want an answer that will make this easier for you. I do not have one.”

“Do you love Phoebe?”

“This is not about Phoebe.”

“It became about her when she entered your bed,” I retorted.

“You want the truth? Fine,” Stefan snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t love you. You married me because the Bellari family needs this alliance. You wanted the Catwright name, the Luna title, and everything attached to them. You have them now. Do not demand feelings that were never part of the arrangement.”

I stared at him. “You believe I spent six months trying to reach you because I wanted your money?”

“What else was I supposed to believe?”

“That I loved you.”

Stefan laughed humorlessly. “You barely know me.”

“I knew enough to defend you when everyone warned me you did not want me.”

“I didn’t ask for any of it,” he replied flatly.

Every bit of anger drained out of me.

“Will you ever love me?” I asked.

“No,” Stefan answered without hesitation. “I regret marrying you, Naomi. I do not want you as my wife.”

The words hit me harder than the photographs ever had.

It was not just the pictures of Phoebe in his sheets. It was this. Standing in front of me, Stefan genuinely did not want me.

A sickening wave of humiliation washed over me, leaving me feeling terrible and foolish. My father had given me the choice this morning. I could have walked away. I should have called off the wedding right there in my bedroom before I ever set foot in the cathedral. Instead, I had been stupid enough to convince myself that there had to be another explanation, that maybe the photos were lies or something Phoebe had coined to hurt me. I had walked down that aisle clinging to the pathetic hope that my husband cared.

He did not. He never had.

Stefan turned toward the door to walk out.

“Stefan,” I said.

He stopped, turning his head back toward me.

I reached down, pulled the wedding ring from my finger, and set it on the bedside table.

“I want a divorce,” I told him, my voice steady. “I am leaving tonight, and I am going back to my father’s house.”