BROKEN

COURTNEY

Two weeks passed after Bryan left on the private jet. The mansion was quieter than a graveyard, and the heavy silence sat on my chest like a lead weight every single hour.

My phone chimed with a reminder for my medical appointment. I had to head to the pack hospital to pick up my monthly routine medication. Three years ago, when both of Diego’s kidneys began failing due to a rare, toxic strain of wolfsbane poisoning, I didn't hesitate for even a second. The doctors said his body was rejecting standard shifter healing, and without a match, he would die. I was a direct match. I spent eight hours on an operating table, giving him one of my kidneys so he could live.

Even now, my body required specialized routine drugs to keep my single kidney functioning smoothly without triggering organ rejection or complications.

I drove back from the hospital holding the brown paper bag of medications on the passenger seat. As I turned down the long, tree-lined driveway of the pack estate, my heart did a sudden, violent leap.

Parked in front of the grand entrance was Diego’s full entourage. Sleek black SUVs, heavy security detail, and guards bustling around unloading luggage.

My Diego was back.

A wave of pure relief and excitement washed over my entire body, erasing weeks of ache and loneliness. Even though he had not bothered to call or text to tell me he was returning, I didn't care in that fleeting moment. I was just so genuinely happy. I threw the car into park, grabbed my bag of drugs, and practically sprinted toward the front doors. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around his neck and hold my son.

"Welcome back, Luna Courtney," a house servant said with a low bow as I burst through the front double doors.

"Good afternoon, Luna—" another called out from the foyer.

I ignored all of their greetings, completely consumed by the desperate need to see my family. I took the grand staircase two steps at a time. I didn't stop at my own wing. I ran straight down the west corridor, directly toward Diego’s master suite.

Without knocking, I pushed his heavy mahogany room door wide open.

"Diego, you're back—" The words choked in my throat, freezing into ash on my tongue.

The sight before me shattered my entire world into a thousand unfixable pieces.

Diego was on his massive king-sized bed, fully engulfed in the act of making love to another woman. He was pounding into her with a raw, fierce passion I had never seen from him in five years of marriage. He was kissing her deeply, his mouth pressed against hers as if he were starving for her taste. And the woman—a beautiful blonde with pale skin and soft curves—was moaning out loud, her high-pitched gasps echoing off the walls of the room.

He warned me not to moan, the thought flashed through my brain like a searing blade. He told me over and over that it irritates him.

Clearly, the sound of moaning did not irritate him at all. I did.

"I love you," Diego whispered against the blonde woman's lips, his voice thick with a warmth and tenderness I had prayed for every night of my life. "I love you so much, baby."

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand there like a ghost watching my own murder.

"Diego!" I screamed out his name, my voice cracking into a ragged sob.

Diego didn't startle. He slowly paused, leaned down, and kissed the woman over again on her lips, soft and lingering. He reached for a white silk sheet from the edge of the mattress and gently handed it to her to cover her nakedness. But he didn't bother to cover his own naked body.

He slid off the bed, standing tall and imposing as he turned around. His dark eyes locked onto mine, completely devoid of guilt, shame, or fear. They were as cold and sharp as frozen steel.

"What right do you have to walk into my private room?" he asked, his tone so calm and casual it felt like a slap across my face.

"I am your wife," I replied, my lips shaking so violently I could barely form the words.

"Are you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, a mocking edge in his deep voice. "Wives do not have separate rooms with their husbands, Courtney. Tell me, when was the last time I told you I love you?"

I stared at him, tears blinding my vision, unable to answer.

"I have never even said that to you," he continued coldly, taking a slow step toward me. "I have never even kissed you. I only slept with you once a month because, somehow and strangely, your body still makes me climax. That was all it was. A biological release."

He turned his head slightly toward the bed, gesturing to the blonde woman who was clutching the sheet to her chest, watching me with quiet, calm eyes.

"This woman right here on my bed... she is the one who gives me pleasure," Diego declared, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "She is the only one I love."

I stood there listening to everything he said. Every word was a physical strike against my ribs, tearing through the flesh of my heart. But then, something inside me snapped shut. The tears running down my cheeks slowly stopped. The overwhelming pain turned into a strange, hollow numbness.

My mind cleared with a single, sharp objective. I was done. I was completely done with this man, this pack, and this lie.

"Where is my son?" I asked, my voice suddenly flat and steady.

My plan was simple. I was going to walk away right now, take my child, and never look back at this place again.

Diego didn't answer right away. He casually reached for his trousers draped over a chair, pulling them on and buttoning them up with unhurried precision. Once he was dressed, he walked over to the side door that connected his suite to the private lounge and opened it.

"Bryan," Diego called out softly. "Come in here, son."

A second later, small footsteps sounded against the floorboards. Bryan walked into the bedroom. My chest swelled, and I took a step forward, reaching my arms out toward him.

"Bryan, baby—" I started.

Bryan didn't even look at me. He walked right past me as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture in the hallway. He ran straight toward the bed, climbing onto the mattress next to the blonde woman. He threw his small arms around her neck and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek.

"Mommy," Bryan said softly, nestling his head against her shoulder. "I missed you while Daddy was talking to the guards."

The blonde woman smiled gently, running her fingers through my son's dark hair. Diego walked over to the side of the bed, placing a large, protective hand on Bryan's back, looking down at the two of them with immense pride and devotion.

I stood completely still, watching a father and son choose another woman over me.

My son, whom I had carried for nine months, whom I had raised and loved with every fiber of my soul, called another woman his mother without a second thought. They looked like a complete, perfect family. And I was the intruder standing in the doorway.

No words came out of my mouth. No more screams. No more tears.

Slowly, I turned my body away from the bed. No, I didn't go to my room to pack my clothes. I didn't grab my bag, my shoes, or my medication.

I walked straight down the long corridor, down the grand staircase, and past the servants who stared at me in stunned silence. I pushed open the heavy front doors of the mansion and stepped outside.

The cold gravel of the driveway dug into the soles of my bare feet, but I didn't feel it. I kept walking down the winding road, leaving the grand gates of the Crescent Moon Pack behind me. I walked out into the vast, empty world on bare feet and with a utterly broken heart.