Bittersweet

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

I was Rebecca, mate to Gavin Clarke, Alpha of the Ironpelt Pack—the strongest among the northern werewolf packs. Gavin was a once-in-a-century business genius, his trade networks expanding across a dozen northern packs, making his pack a successful business empire. He'd claimed me for four years. We stood together, awaiting our bonding ceremony... until his childhood sweetheart Vivian returned. The moment I saw them reunite, the truth shattered me: What I'd believed was love had only ever been my own delusion. His eyes held only her. I'd just been... convenient. At least he'd never marked me. No mate bond, just cold paperwork from the Pack Council. That made things simpler. So I crafted my revenge—disguised the Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement as a routine university permission slip. When his pen touched that paper, our bond dissolved in the stroke of an inkwell. He never realized what he'd truly lost that day: Not just a mate. But the future heir to the Ironpelt legacy. Now he hunts me across continents. Is it love? Or the pup? Or just an alpha's pride, burning because I made him dissolve the mate bond without even realizing he'd been outplayed?

I never thought I'd end up severely injured and lose my baby on my wedding day. That day, I walked toward my husband full of excitement, only to watch him rush right past me and straight into the arms of his secretary. Confused, I turned around and saw someone in a wedding dress lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath her. It was his secretary, Quinn Fable. Steve York, my soon-to-be husband, panicked and scooped her up, but Quinn stared at me with tearful eyes, crying, “Summer, I ate the candy you gave me… Why would you want to hurt my baby? Please, Steve, save our child… please…” Steve was beside himself with rage. Without a second thought, he kicked me hard in the stomach. I collapsed into the champagne tower, shards of glass embedding into my skin. Blood poured from between my legs. Yet, they still clung to each other, crying bitterly as if I didn't exist. When the ambulance arrived, they didn't even hesitate to push me aside to save her first. “Forget about her!” Steve shouted. “Save Quinn! She's lost so much blood. She must be in terrible pain! As for Summer, that vicious witch… she deserves to die!” Due to the delay, I suffered a ruptured uterus and missed the window for proper treatment. And as if that wasn't enough, Steve personally announced that our marriage was null and void. He marched straight to the clerk's office with Quinn and made it official. On my ICU bed, I received a text from him. “Pack your things and get out. Quinn wants you out of her sight.”

Just before my wedding, my fate mate, my Alpha fiancé, Micheal, stripped me of my wedding dress—our wedding dress—and handed it to his mistress, Becky Porter. Not only that, but he locked me in the dressing room like some rabid wolf he needed to contain. "Becky has a terminal illness.She just wants to experience being a bride before she dies." I lunged forward, my wolf howling inside me. Alpha's strength pressed against mine, his dominance forcing my muscles to lock. My claws twitched, itching to break free. "You bastard!" I snarled, my breath ragged. Micheal barely blinked. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head . "She’s dying, and you can’t even show a little compassion?" His tone dripped with disappointment, as if I were the villain here. "You’re only losing a wedding, but Becky… Becky is losing her dreams and her life."

When my husband, Robert Bowen, takes his assistant, Bianca Strickland, to a prenatal checkup, I'm being kissed by his 18-year-old version in a corner. "You're already 30 years old, yet why do you smell so nice and taste so kissable? I love you so much, honey! "By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why didn't he come pick you up after work?" I push the 18-year-old Robert away helplessly, only to meet the icy gaze of his 30-year-old self from afar. "You already have a young side piece, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me? Don't make me look down on you, Kaitlyn Hudson." As I watch Robert leaving the hospital with his arm around Bianca, his 18-year-old self begins throwing a temper tantrum in my arms. "That idiot! How dare he speak to my wife in such an arrogant manner! I might as well commit suicide right now so that he'll disappear from this world permanently!"

Three days before our engagement, Zach Jefferson called me. “We’ll need to postpone the engagement party by a month. That day is Sienna’s first concert since she returned, and I need to be there. “It’s just a postponement. It’s no big deal.” He had postponed our engagement three times that year. The first time was because Sienna Lynch had been hospitalized with appendicitis. He said he had to take care of her and rushed over. The second time, Sienna said she was feeling down. He was worried she might get depressed and immediately booked a flight to see her. It was the third time. I simply said, “Okay.” After hanging up, I turned to the good-looking and refined man beside me. “Are you interested in marrying me?” Later, during Sienna’s concert, Zach left her without hesitation. With red, teary eyes, he rushed to my engagement ceremony. “Yulia, are you really getting engaged to this man?”

I was sitting in City Hall, about to sign that damn mate bond certificate with Logan—Alpha of the Eastside Moonclaws—when his phone buzzed. One glance. Then he stood up like this was all just another errand. Didn’t even flinch when he said: “Something came up. Let’s push the bond signing to another day, yeah?” And just like that, he was gone. Left me sitting alone, surrounded by bonded pairs, all glowing with that sickly sweet “forever” vibe. Why? Because Emma, his darling little childhood packmate, twisted her ankle during pack-speed training—trying to keep up with the advanced wolves when she barely passed the basic shifts. Ten minutes later, I get a text: “Emma’s injury’s kinda serious. I gotta stay with her. Let’s move the wedding, okay?” Just another time—maybe the last—Logan picked her over me. But this time? No tears. No begging. No rage. The clerk gave me a quiet look, like she already knew how the story ended. “Ma’am... do you still want to proceed?” I pulled out my phone.Didn’t wait for him to change his mind. The clerk gave me that soft, pitying look. “Ma’am... do you still want to proceed?” I shook my head, and dialed home. The moment my Beta sister picked up. “Tell Alpha Dad I’m coming back to the Ridge. Today.” A pause. “You sure?” “Yeah,” I said, standing up, my voice steady. “I’m done here.” And just like that, I walked out. Not just from the building—but from him.

At six in the evening, Allen Bennett prepared a perfect dinner, with each dish carefully chosen to match Sarah Foster's preferences. By seven, he had run her bath, adding lavender essential oils and rose petals to the warm water, filling the bathroom with a calming fragrance. By eight, he placed her comfortable slippers by the entrance, awaiting her return. At nine, the front door finally opened. Sarah walked in, and Allen immediately went to greet her. With practiced grace, he helped her out of her coat and placed her slippers before her feet, then hung the coat in the entryway closet. Turning to her with a gentle smile, he asked, "Would you prefer to have your bath first or would you like to eat?"

Stephen's beloved Phoebe fell into a coma. To everyone, I became the villain—accused of harming her out of unrequited love for Stephen. Mute, I had no way to defend myself before Stephen locked me away in the basement. He said I would only be freed when Phoebe woke up. Broken and hopeless, I succumbed to fear and starvation, eventually developing amnesia. Day by day, my memories began to slip away. Yet, Stephen, tears in his eyes, begged me not to forget him. But all I wanted was to leave it all behind and keep moving forward.

Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years. His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. "This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love." I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him. What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love. During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me. Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement. That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary. That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family. In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside. After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.