His Regret, My Rise
When I married Alpha Damian Blackwood, I believed my love could melt the ice in his eyes. Five years, countless sacrifices, and a son later, I finally learned the truth: to him, I was nothing but a convenient Luna and a free babysitter.
I discovered this the day I walked into our home and found him buried inside another woman, our five-year-old son sitting on her lap, calling her "Mommy."
The pheromones in the air didn't lie. He'd chosen her. He'd always chosen her.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I threw my wedding ring at his feet and walked out with nothing but a small suitcase and my shattered pride.
What Damian didn't know—what no one knew—was that the "pathetic Luna" he discarded also