CHAPTER ONE

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I tried one last desperate attempt to seduce my husband, Alpha Derek who has never touched me.

I wore the black lace lingerie that had cost me a month's salary and lit candles around our bedroom.

When he walked in, his eyes barely looked over my naked body before he checked his watch.

"I have a meeting with the pack in ten minutes," he said flatly. "Can you put some clothes on? And blow out those candles before you burn the house down, you know how much I paid for these curtains."

As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway. "And for God's sake, get rid of that lingerie. It doesn't suit your body type."

That night, I filed for divorce.

—--------------

"Pour me another," I demanded, sliding my empty glass across my sister Bianca's kitchen island.

"I still can't believe you stayed with that emotionless block of ice for many years," Bianca said, pouring herself a glass. "But finally you've come to your senses. The pack needs you back where you belong."

I downed the rest of my whiskey. "Five years, Bianca. Five years I'll never get back, trying to warm a man who wanted to stay frozen."

"Well, it's over now, Hazel." she reached across to refill my glass. "The Northern Lake pack has been waiting for their heiress. Plus, Damon's still unmarried, you know what Dad always wanted."

I sighed. "As soon as my lawyer prepares the divorce papers, I'm coming home. It's time the heiress reclaimed her birthright."

"That's my girl," Bianca smirked as we clinked our glasses together.

That night I got home earlier than I told Derek I would. The house was quiet at first, then I heard strange moaning sounds coming from upstairs.

I followed the noises through our home. They led me to that room Derek always declared off-limits to me, claiming it was his private workspace.

When I pushed the door open, I nearly choked at what I saw.

Derek stood completely naked, aggressively thrusting hard into a mannequin that had a photograph plastered on it. I recognized it immediately. It was his stepsister Tara's face attached to the lifeless figure.

"Oh Tara, I miss you so much," he moaned. "No one will ever replace you. Not even her."

Looking around the room made me sick. The walls surrounding him were covered with countless photographs of Tara in various states of undress, smiling, sleeping, and even showering. In the corner stood a shrine with her panties displayed like trophies.

A recorder played repeatedly in the background, "Derek, how are you doing? I miss how you made me feel whole."

"Tara, Tara, I'm cumming," Derek cried out passionately.

I retreated silently but the floor made a sound below my foot, Derek didn't hear. He was too lost in his sick fantasy, moaning his stepsister's name as he approached his climax.

I should have known from the beginning that Derek's heart belonged elsewhere.

I first saw Derek volunteering at the children's orphanage, his kindness towards the children captivated me instantly. I fell hard and fast, convinced I'd found someone truly exceptional.

We dated and when he was about to propose, he simply slid the ring across the restaurant table and said, This is yours now. I was too blinded by love to see how cold that was.

Our honeymoon night should have been special. We were finally alone in our hotel room when his phone rang. It was Tara, his stepsister, crying about a nightmare. Derek left immediately and he didn't come back that night.

When he returned the next afternoon, he smelled like her perfume and had a hickey he claimed was a mosquito bite.

Once, I found him in our shower pleasuring himself to Tara's high school portrait. When confronted, he said the photo accidentally fell into the bathroom. I found more photos hidden inside his pillow that night.

Every attempt made to have sex was met with reasons all connected to Tara. She needed help moving furniture. She felt sick. She wanted company for dinner. She called with another crisis.

I tried everything humanly possible to win his attention. Explicit movies to create mood, I booked Expensive restaurant reservations, losing weight but nothing worked. He would always find a reason to leave early or not show up at all.

Now it all made sense. Derek never wanted me. He wanted Tara and I was just a cover.

That night, I slept in the garage unable to face our bed. By morning, my phone showed seventeen missed calls from Derek. I finally answered the eighteenth.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I waited all night yesterday. I even hired the best chefs for our anniversary dinner. I thought we could finally be intimate."

"Go celebrate with Tara instead," I said coldly. "I'm sure she'll appreciate your efforts more than me."

"Don't start with your insecurities again. I've prepared everything for us to finally consummate this marriage."

"Save your performance. I'm meeting with my lawyer today. Divorce papers will be ready soon."

"Divorce me? You can't—"

"Goodbye Derek." Before he could respond, I ended the call.

I left the house and jumped into my car without looking back. My phone kept buzzing with Derek's calls and messages, but I ignored every single one.

The divorce lawyer's office was quiet when I walked in. I slapped down my ID and marriage certificate, got the paperwork, and filled everything out in record time. The final document awaited only Derek's signature, and then I'd be free of his pathetic obsession with Tara.

When I walked out of that building, I smiled for the first time in months. The sun warmed my face as I breathed in sweet freedom.

I couldn't face going home. Instead, I did something I'd never dared before.

I pulled out my phone and logged into our joint account—the one Derek always controlled.

Five years of marriage, and he'd insisted we maintain one account with both our names on it for emergencies. I'd never touched it, not once.

My fingers traced the raised numbers. According to Derek, there was nearly $3.4 million in there. His rainy-day fund. His security blanket.

Too bad it was about to rain.

I transferred $2.5 million to the children's orphanage where I'd first met him. The same place where he'd fooled me with his fake kindness and warmth.

Next, I drove to Luxury Mannequins, the most exclusive display figure boutique in the city. The saleswoman's jaw dropped when I placed my order.

"You want... how many mannequins?" she stammered.

"Fifty-six," I replied calmly. "And I need them delivered today. I'll pay extra."

The truck was being loaded when Derek finally got through on my phone.

DEREK: "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO WITH MY MONEY?"

I responded. "Bought myself a divorce present with our emergency fund. Consider it payment for five years of fake marriage and real disappointment."

"You're out of your goddamn mind! Do you know what you've done? I needed that money—"

I ended the call and turned back to the saleswoman.

After finalizing my purchase, I headed straight to Derek's private garage where he kept his collection of luxury cars. The keypad code hadn't changed since I'd last seen him enter it.

Inside sat his most prized possession: a limited-edition Bugatti he'd never even let me touch. The one he'd always promised to take his precious Tara for a ride in someday.

I snapped a picture of myself sitting in the driver's seat and sent it to him with the message: "Permit me to use your prized and treasured possession."

His reply was immediate: "DON'T YOU DARE."

The engine purred to life and I felt a rush of power as I pulled out onto the open road. At every stoplight, I snapped photos and posted them to my social media. Finally getting what I deserve, I captioned them.

By evening I pulled into Giovanni's, the most expensive restaurant in town.

The hostess led me to a table by the window. I ordered everything expensive on the menu—the aged steak, the rare caviar, the champagne. I was halfway through my Lobster when they burst through the door.

Derek looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. But it was Tara who charged toward me first.

"You BITCH! How dare you drive HIS car! That's my brother's baby!"

I took another bite of the Lobster. "Mmm. This is divine. You should try it—oh wait, you can't. I spent all your dinner money."

Derek grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dragging it across the floor.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? That account was for emergencies."

"This is an emergency," I replied. "My emergency exit from this sham of a marriage."

Tara's face had turned an alarming shade of red. "He promised we would ride in that car together for the first time! It was supposed to be OUR special moment!"

I took another bite of steak, chewing slowly before answering. "Well, I beat you to it."

"You've ruined everything!" Tara continued. "He's broke now because of you! He can't even buy me my favorite dessert for my birthday next week!"

Derek approached, grabbing Tara's arm but she wrenched free. "I've been with him since childhood. I'm the one who knows him, who understands him! You're just a gold-digging whore who stole him away! Now he's more focused on your drama than on me!"

I smiled coldly. "Not my fault if he married me instead of keeping his attention on you. Perhaps you should ask yourself why."

"Get away from our special table," Tara hissed, her hands trembling. "This is OUR place."

"Seems like a public restaurant to me." I took another bite.

"You don't deserve any of this. You don't deserve him!"

"Neither do you, apparently," I replied, watching her face contort.

Derek tried to pull her back, but she lunged forward, grabbing a steak knife from my table. Her eyes were wild and unhinged.

"You should just die for coming between us! Then I’ll have him all to myself." she screamed and drove the knife straight into my chest.

I woke up feeling like my chest had been torn apart.

Every heartbeat sent waves of pain through my skull. I tried to lift my hand but even that small movement felt like torture.

"She's waking up! Get the doctor!" a voice called out from somewhere above me.

I forced my eyes open, everything was a blur of white and shadow.

"Where am I?" My voice came out as a whisper.

"Northern Memorial Hospital," the nurse replied, adjusting something on the IV beside me. "You've been unconscious for nearly fourteen hours. Stab wound to the chest, missed your heart by centimeters. You're lucky to be alive."

I tried to swallow. "Who brought me in?”

The nurse nodded toward a corner of the room. "That young lady brought you in. She said she witnessed everything."

I turned my head slightly. A girl, probably in her early twenties with a messy ponytail and concerned eyes, offered a small wave.

"You saved me?" I whispered.

She nodded. "I was at Giovanni's celebrating my graduation. Saw everything. I used to be a lifeguard, so I knew to apply pressure until the ambulance arrived. Then I rode with you here."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"What about my husband? And Tara?" I asked, wincing as I tried to sit up.

The nurse's face darkened. She pulled out her phone and pressed play on a voicemail.

Derek's cold voice filled the room: "This is Derek Montclair. I received your call about Hazel. Do whatever you want with her. She deserves all of this for what she's done to me financially and emotionally. I have nothing more to do with her. Don't call this number again unless she's dead."

My fingers clutched the thin hospital blanket as I processed his words.

Just then, a notification pinged on the young girl’s phone. She frowned, glancing at the screen.

"What is it?" I asked, sensing her discomfort.

"You might not want to see this," she warned, but I snatched the phone from her hands anyway.

There on the screen was an Instagram post. Derek and Tara, tagged at the exact Maldives resort where Derek and I were supposed to have our honeymoon.

Tara was wearing the exact black lace lingerie he'd told me "didn't suit my body type." They were laughing, drinking champagne from the bottle. The caption read: "Finally where we belong. #AlwaysWasMeant2Be."

Another post showed them in our pack's sacred bonding cave—the place where Alpha with their Lunas traditionally consummate their marriages. Derek was holding Tara possessively, his lips against her neck.

"Son of a bitch," I whispered.

"You're about twenty, right?" I asked the girl who'd saved my life.

She nodded, confused.

"You recorded what happened at the restaurant, didn't you?"

Her eyes widened. "I—yes."

Without asking permission, I forwarded the video to myself.

"What are you doing?" the woman asked as I opened my social media account and uploaded the raw footage.

"Getting justice," I replied, watching as the likes and shares started multiplying by the second. The video went viral within minutes.

My phone rang—the police department. They confirmed they'd received multiple reports about the video and were opening an investigation.

An hour later, my phone rang again.

"Ms. Hazel?" the officer's voice sounded strained. "I regret to inform you that the case against Tara has been... dismissed."

"What?" I sat up despite the searing pain. "How is that possible? There's literal video evidence!"

“The footage has been flagged as manipulated. And we've received testimony that you were the aggressor."

The line went dead. I checked social media—the video had vanished from every platform as if it never existed.

That's when the door slammed open.

Derek stood there, his perfectly tailored suit contrasting with the wild rage in his eyes. Tara lurked behind him, her face twisted into a triumphant smile.

"You really thought you could destroy us with that edited video? You must be joking."

"Edited?" I laughed bitterly. "We both know what happened."

"What I know," he snarled, "is that you're going to post an apology video immediately. You'll explain that you doctored the footage because you're unstable and jealous of my relationship with Tara."

"Go to hell."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Perhaps you don't understand the situation. My influence extends to this hospital too. One word from me, and the doctor will administer drugs that will render you genuinely mentally unstable." He leaned closer. "All of this happened because of you. You pushed Tara. You provoked her."

"I won't do it," I said.

Derek grabbed my rescuer by the arm, yanking her from her chair. He pressed his forearm against her throat. "Post the apology or this Good Samaritan will need her own hospital bed."

The young girl's eyes widened in terror.

With shaking hands, I recorded the apology, tears streaming down my face. The moment I posted it, Derek released the girl who collapsed gasping on the floor. He checked my post and nodded with satisfaction.

"Pack your things once you get better," he ordered. "You're coming home with us."

"Us?"

"Tara will be living with us now," he said. "She needs protection from false accusations. And you need to be reminded of your place."

He leaned over, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered: "This is just the beginning of your punishment, Luna Hazel."