Elara's POV
The sound of laughter coming from my bedroom stopped me cold at the top of the stairs.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew that laugh—warm and breathy, the kind Dante only made when he was truly happy. I hadn't heard it directed at me in six years of marriage.
My hands trembled as I clutched the grocery bags tighter. I'd left the pack hospital early to surprise him with his favorite dinner. Stupid. So incredibly stupid.
The bedroom door stood half-open. I should have turned around. Should have walked away. But my feet moved forward like I was being pulled by invisible strings, each step bringing me closer to the truth I'd been denying for months.
Through the gap in the door, I saw them.
Dante—my mate, my husband, the father of my child—tangled in our sheets with Selena. My best friend. The woman who'd held my hand through my nightmare pregnancy. The woman who'd sworn she'd always protect me.
The bags slipped from my numb fingers. Apples rolled across the hallway floor.
Dante's ice-blue eyes snapped to me. No guilt. No shame. Just cold, empty nothing, like he was looking at a stranger who'd interrupted something important.
"Elara." His voice was flat. "You're home early."
That was it. No explanation. No apology. Just annoyance that I'd caught him.
Selena sat up, pulling the sheet around herself. Her green eyes were wide, but I saw something flicker in them that made my stomach turn. She wasn't surprised. She wasn't even sorry.
She looked triumphant.
"I can explain—" Selena started, but her voice was cut off by the sound of small feet running down the hallway.
"Mommy!"
My son. My baby. My whole world.
I spun around, arms already reaching for Kieran. Five years old with his father's black hair and my amber eyes. The only good thing that came from this broken marriage.
But Kieran ran right past me.
He ran past me like I wasn't even there.
"Mommy!" he cried again, and this time he threw himself at Selena, wrapping his little arms around her legs. "You said you'd play blocks with me! You promised!"
The world tilted sideways. My knees wanted to buckle. My chest felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed my heart until it burst.
"Kieran," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Baby, I'm right here."
He looked at me over his shoulder. Looked at me the way he looked at the housekeepers. Polite. Distant. Like I was just another adult in his life who didn't really matter.
"Oh. Hi, Miss Elara." He turned back to Selena, tugging her hand. "Can we play now? Please?"
Miss Elara.
Not Mommy. Not Mama.
Miss Elara, like I was his teacher. Like I hadn't spent thirty-six hours in labor bringing him into this world. Like I hadn't bled for days after, so weak I could barely hold him. Like I hadn't loved him more than my own life from the moment I heard his first cry.
"When did—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't push words past the glass shards in my throat. "How long has he been calling you that?"
Selena smiled. It was gentle. Kind. Absolutely devastating.
"Oh, sweetie, don't be upset. Kieran just feels more comfortable with me. You know how you're always so busy at the hospital. Children need consistency. They need someone who's actually there." She ran her fingers through Kieran's hair with practiced ease. "Someone strong enough to be a real mother."
The words hit like physical blows. Each one carefully chosen. Each one designed to cut exactly where I was weakest.
I looked at Dante, desperate for him to say something. To defend me. To tell our son that I was his mother, that I'd sacrificed everything for him, that I loved him more than anything in this world.
But Dante was already pulling on his pants, his movements casual. Bored, even.
"Kieran, go to your room," he said, his Alpha command making our son obey instantly. Kieran scampered away without even glancing at me.
The silence that followed felt like drowning.
I stared at the man I'd given six years of my life to. The man I'd almost died for during a rogue attack two years ago, throwing myself in front of silver-tipped claws meant for him. The man who'd barely visited me in the hospital after, who'd looked annoyed when I cried from the pain.
"How long?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "How long have you been sleeping with her?"
"Does it matter?" Dante buttoned his shirt without looking at me. "We need to talk. Downstairs. Now."
Not an answer. Not an explanation.
A command.
Like I was just another pack member he could order around. Like I wasn't his wife. Like the bond between us—the sacred connection the Moon Goddess herself was supposed to have created—meant absolutely nothing.
Selena slipped out of bed, wrapping herself in my robe. My favorite silk robe that Dante had given me for our anniversary three years ago. She walked past me, and I caught the scent.
Mating heat. The unmistakable musk that came when wolves bonded.
She'd bonded with my husband. In my bed. While my son played down the hall.
"Downstairs," Dante repeated, his ice-blue eyes boring into me. "There are papers you need to sign."
Papers.
My hands started shaking so badly I had to clench them into fists. I knew what papers meant. Every wolf knew.
Rejection papers.
After six years of marriage. After nearly dying for him. After giving him a son. After enduring his coldness, his distance, his mother's cruelty, and the pack's whispers that I wasn't good enough to be Luna.
After everything, he was going to reject me.
And from the cold, empty look in his eyes, he'd already made up his mind.
There would be no fighting for me. No second chances. No love left to salvage.
I was about to lose everything.
My wolf whimpered inside me, curling up small and broken. She'd always been weak—I'd always been weak—and now we were finally paying the price.
Dante walked past me toward the stairs, not even bothering to check if I followed.
Selena paused in the doorway, and when she looked back at me, her smile was pure poison.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Elara. You were never strong enough to be his Luna anyway. Everyone knew it. Even you." She tilted her head. "Especially you."
Then she followed Dante downstairs, leaving me standing alone in the hallway surrounded by scattered apples and the shattered pieces of my life.
I could hear voices downstairs. Dante's deep rumble. Selena's light laughter.
And from Kieran's room, the sound of blocks crashing down as my son played, completely unbothered that his entire world was about to change.
Or maybe it wouldn't change for him at all.
Maybe I was the only one about to lose everything.
My legs finally moved, carrying me toward the stairs. Each step felt like walking toward my own execution.
But I went anyway.
Because that's what I always did.
I obeyed. I endured. I survived.
Even when surviving meant watching everything I loved get ripped away.