Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Rejected Mate, His Contract Wife: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 5

The pen in Amora’s hand trembled violently. It wasn’t just nerves; it was her wolf, whimpering in the back of her mind, sensing the impending severing of their bond. Three years. Three years of being a "Stand-in Luna." Three years reduced to a single signature on a pack-legalized decree of separation. Across from her, Duncan Alonso, Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack, didn't even look up. His sandalwood scent, so soft, usually calmed her. Today, it felt like poison. "Sign it," he commanded. His Alpha tone vibrated in the air, forcing her fingers to tighten around the pen against her will. "Duncan..." she finally managed, her voice cracking. "Did you ever feel it? Even for a second? The bond?" For a second…just one…he looked up. Those piercing grey eyes, flecked with the silver of his lineage, met hers. Once, she had believed those eyes could soften for her. She thought that even if she wasn't his "Fated Mate," a chosen bond could be just as strong. "Even

Duncan didn't sleep that night. The penthouse lights stayed on until dawn, but the modern luxury felt like a cage. The chocolate torte sat on the coffee table, its scent of sugar and cocoa now masked by something that made Duncan’s inner wolf pace the perimeter of the room. It was the scent of Amora’s departure. He prowled the living room, his heightened senses dialled to a maddening frequency. Every time he caught a lingering trace of her lavender scent, his wolf let out a low, mourning growl that vibrated in his chest. He’d replayed the clinic exchange a thousand times. The way she stood her ground. The way her scent had flared with that strange, intoxicating power. The returned five million, the dead phone number, the full closet. Each detail sharpened the unease in his chest into something he couldn't ignore. By six a.m., he was already dressed. No tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink of his pack tattoos. He drank his coffee black, but it tasted like a

"More pancakes, Amora? That Alpha pup is going to need every calorie to fuel those growth spurts. You’re eating for a future King now!" Susan Wayne, Oscar’s older sister and the pack’s lead healer, beamed as she slid another stack of golden-brown pancakes onto Amora’s plate. Susan was a whirlwind of earthy energy, bright-eyed, steady, and completely unimpressed by the stiff, high-society protocols Amora had lived under for years. To the Wayne Pack, Amara wasn't a billionaire’s discarded wife; she was a protected female carrying a sacred weight. Amora felt a lump in her throat as she looked around the sun-drenched kitchen. The air here didn't smell of ozone and cold marble; it smelled of home. "Thank you, Jess. It’s just... I’m not used to being looked after like this. In the city, I was expected to be invisible." Oscar walked in, his presence immediately grounding the room. He wore a simple flannel shirt, but the sheer breadth of his shoulders and the controlled grace of his m