Chapter 2

It was almost midnight when Laurel McKinley returned to her marital home, a place she had called home for two years. The villa was dark, and the windows were shut, and as expected, no one was waiting for her.

What was she even expecting she was lying in the ER for at least ten hours but he never came? It wasn’t his uncaring attitude that broke her heart but the sheer negligence of his true legal wife. She knew from the beginning that their marriage was just a contract but she still fell for him and now that he had humiliated her in front of her office building just to please his mistress he couldn’t help but feel helpless if only he would have listened to her explanation she would have saved the crisis but there are no buts she has made up her mind that she will not allow anyone to dictate her life any further and cut all ties with him for good.

Laurel moved through the rooms like someone looking for evidence. The sofa where his jacket had once slumped looked smaller now, as if the house itself had shrunk to accommodate the truth. She touched a chipped mug and felt the weight of ordinary mornings that would never come again. The photograph on the mantel of their smiles frozen at a company party felt like a stage prop given to the press just for show. Each object was a small, private moment, a marriage contract that had always felt like a legal leash. She did not scream. She did not throw things around or make a scene.

He had humiliated her in front of her colleagues, in the place where she had built a professional life, and the memory of that burned hotter than any argument. She imagined the whispers, the sideways glances; the way people’s faces changed themselves to fit a new story about her made her cheeks hot and then cold, anger rose in her like a tide. She thought of all the times she had softened her voice, smoothed over his absences, and explained away the small betrayals. Tonight she realized those explanations she had wanted for his excuses were never coming as she was not even worth it.

He hadn't even looked for his wife, who had spent the entire day in the ER. Alpha Noah never even once came to her bedside. And neither did his Beta, to check on her. Their absence was louder than any words, a cruel reminder of how much worth she held in his eyes.

Her loyal bodyguard was the only one who was with her through the ordeal. Loyal beyond duty, he had rushed her to the hospital the moment she collapsed, carrying her through the chaos right under the nose of the reporters. Cameras flashed, microphones hovered, but none of them moved to help they only stared, recording her unconscious form as if her suffering were entertainment.

Inside the ER, while the machines beeped steadily and doctors worked to stabilize her, the bodyguard stood watch. He refused to leave her side, his presence the only shield she had against the world’s cruelty. Every time the door opened, he expected Noah but no one came.

For Laurel, the betrayal was sharper than the pain in her body. She had once believed that being Luna meant protection, meant loyalty. But as she drifted in and out of consciousness, the truth settled heavy in her chest.

In the living room, her phone’s glow spilled across the room and diverted her attention to a new message. She tapped it open, and a sudden pang of sadness shadowed her eyes.

“Your flight tickets are confirmed and you have to leave after three hours. We’ll drive you to the airport just to get whatever is needed.”

While she was lying in the ER her parents were the only ones who had rushed after knowing that she was in the ER after all the incident was broadcasted every. She had seen the pain in their eyes and the regret and they had met her decision without questioning her and that felt like a comfort..

“Mom, I want to leave.” She had said with tears in her eyes.

“We’ll take care of it,” her mother had said.

"I dont want anyone to know anout my whereaouts." 

Her parents did not question her when she confessed all the humiliation she had endured that day, their support was not just assurance but also protection.

"I dont want anyone to know anout my whereaouts but..."

When she hesitated, her father’s voice was steady, carrying the weight of promise. “No one will know where you go unless you want them to, leave the rest to us.”

He and her mother moved quickly, paying for the plane ticket, calling embassies, arranging for multiple visas, their hands working with the quiet efficiency of people who had already decided that her safety mattered more than anything else.

“But what about Noah?” Laurel’s voice cracked. She knew her father had once respected her husband, had even defended him, and now she feared that loyalty would bind him. “What about our mate bond dad?”

Her father’s reply was calm, but it carried steel. “I have only one daughter, and I will never allow any damn Alpha to humiliate my precious child. Laurel, you don’t need to worry about him, I will take care of him.”

She pressed further, her worry genuine. “But Dad, what if he comes after you and Mom? Noah isn’t ordinary, he is an Alpha, and he has the power to destroy anyone.”

Her father reached across the table, his hand warm and firm around hers. “Sweetheart, don’t you trust your old man?” His eyes glowed faintly, the aura of the ex‑Beta rising like a shield, a reminder of the strength that had once commanded packs and silenced threats. In that moment, Laurel saw not just her father but the warrior he had once been, the man who could stand against an Alpha without flinching.

She sighed, shoulders loosening, and nodded. She knew that in this world the only person who could truly control Alpha Noah was her father. Their love was not just comfort, it was shielding her from the storm she was leaving behind.

A faint creepy noise upstairs brought tremors down her body. Her breath caught. Part of her wanted to flee, but another part wanted to make sure she was not overthinking it. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear nervously and slid toward the staircase. With every step, the air grew colder, as though the house was tugging her deeper into its secrets.

She halted in front of the master bedroom door, hand firmly on the knob. A faint clink from the guest room drew her away. Her heart was racing as she slipped inside, the musky smell of alcohol washing over her even before the steady gush of water reached her ears.

Every nerve screamed that her husband was behind that bathroom door. The shower stopped running and broke the silence. She stepped back, ready to bolt, until a man’s voice called the name of the person she hated the most.

“Hello Sherry, why are you calling me this late?” Her husband’s voice broke out warm and unguarded.

Her knees weakened at the sound of that name. Sherry. The tenderness in his tone was unbearably soft while speaking to her, but to his own wife he never even bothered to have a normal conversation.