The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the otherwise silent kitchen. Amelia stood by the counter, staring blankly at her phone screen. The divorce agreement was saved in her drafts, the cursor blinking as if waiting for her to press "print."

Her thumb hovered over the screen, but her mind was elsewhere. She thought of all the things she had given up to be here—her dreams, her independence, and, most of all, her heart.

“Amelia?” Adam’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Her wolf felt uncomfortable the moment he stepped in.

She turned abruptly to see him standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. His sharp, dark eyes bore into her with faint curiosity. “Who are you calling?”

She blinked, tucking her phone into her apron pocket. “No one,” she said quickly, her tone indifferent.

Adam raised a brow. “Why are you suddenly acting like this? You seemed… different.”

The irony wasn’t lost on her. He had the audacity to call her out for being distant when he had spent years in another world entirely—one where only Bridgette existed.

“Just thinking about the groceries,” she lied, brushing past him to the sink.

The Alpha didn’t press further. He simply shrugged and glanced at his phone, the glow of the screen lighting up his face. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and Amelia didn’t have to guess why.

That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while Adam’s shallow breathing filled the room. His back was to her, his body curled slightly as he cradled his phone like a lifeline.

She listened to the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, each exhale a reminder of the emotional distance between them. It was as though a chasm had formed in their bed, wide and unbridgeable.

Her mind wandered to the woman he’d always loved. Bridgette. The name alone felt like a ghost haunting their marriage. Amelia wondered if Adam had ever truly seen her, or if she’d always been a placeholder for the woman he couldn’t have.

The next morning, the scent of a traditional English breakfast filled the kitchen. Amelia plated the eggs, toast, bacon, and beans with precision.

Adam walked in, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. He sat at the table, glancing at the spread before him. “British breakfast?” He asked, raising a brow.

“It’s all we had,” she replied smoothly, pouring herself a cup of tea.

Adam frowned but didn’t push further. Instead, his attention shifted to his phone. Amelia noticed the faint smile that appeared when his screen lit up. It was Bridgette again. She could tell by the way his posture straightened, the way his fingers eagerly tapped out a reply.

“Big plans today?” She asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Just pack matters,” Adam muttered, not looking up.

Amelia sat across from him, sipping her tea. Her movements were calm, deliberate. She reached into her bag and pulled out the divorce agreement, the neatly stapled pages pristine and waiting.

“I need you to sign this,” she said, sliding the papers across the table.

Adam didn’t even glance at them. “What is it?” He asked distractedly, his eyes still glued to his phone.

“Just some paperwork for the pack,” she replied, her tone light.

He nodded, picking up a pen and scrawling his signature without hesitation.

Amelia watched him, her chest tight with a mixture of relief and nervousness. He didn’t even bother to ask what he was signing.

As he pushed the papers back toward her, he finally looked up. “Anything else?”

“No,” she said, her lips curling into a humorless smile. “That’s all.”

Adam grunted in acknowledgment, already returning his attention to his phone.

Amelia stared at him for a moment longer, taking in the man she’d spent three years sacrificing everything for. He hadn’t truly looked at her in years. The realization wasn’t new, but it hit differently now.

She laughed softly, the sound catching Adam’s attention.

“What’s funny?” He asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just… ironic, I guess.”

He tilted his head, clearly puzzled, but didn’t press. Instead, he stood, grabbing his plate and carrying it to the sink.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need,” he said absently, already walking out of the kitchen.

Amelia watched him go, the hollow ache in her chest replaced by a strange sense of peace. The papers were signed. Her decision was final.

As she folded the signed agreement and tucked it back into her bag, she felt lighter.

Her lips quirked into a small smile. Letting go wasn’t as painful as she’d thought it would be.

The soft rustling of fabric accompanied Amelia as she folded yet another blouse and placed it into her suitcase.

The dresser held no keepsakes from her. The closet, half-empty, was filled with garments she’d bought herself. Not once had Adam thought to gift her something as simple as a scarf or a dress. Even her side of the nightstand was barren, save for the divorce papers tucked into the drawer.

She sighed, reaching under the bed for a small, dusty box. Inside were the thoughtful gifts she’d given Adam over the years: a leather-bound journal she had engraved with his initials, an expensive watch she saved months for, and a sleek pen she thought he’d use in pack meetings. All of them were untouched, forgotten.

“Let someone else appreciate these,” she muttered, setting the box aside for sale. Amelia thought that selling those things would be better than letting them all rot in the corner.

The sound of an engine outside drew her attention. She glanced out the window to see the sleek, black Maybach pulling up to the pack house driveway. Her stomach turned.

Asher. Asher, Adam’s younger brother, had been nothing but mean to Amelia from the day she married into the family. He was sharp-tongued and unapologetically hostile, his every word and action laced with disdain.

Having grown up alongside Bridgette, the woman he believed was destined to be Adam’s mate, Asher had built an image of what his sister-in-law should have been. Bridgette was familiar, kind, and deeply rooted in their world—a perfect match for his brother. But when she left, everything changed.

In her place came Amelia, a stranger in every sense of the word. To Asher, she was an intruder, someone who didn’t belong in their family. His bitterness toward her wasn’t subtle. He challenged her decisions, dismissed her efforts, and made it clear he saw her as an outsider.

She didn’t need to wait long. The door slammed, and heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Within moments, her brother-in-law appeared at the doorway, his smirk as sharp as a blade.

“Well, well,” Asher drawled, leaning against the frame with mock casualness. “If it isn’t the Alpha’s charity case.”

Amelia stiffened but didn’t stop folding her clothes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Selling things now?” He continued, nodding toward the box. “What’s next? A roadside stall? Or are you finally leaving this place for good?”

She calmly folded another blouse, her hands steady. “I don’t see how it concerns you, Asher.”

“It concerns me because I’ve spent the last three years watching you embarrass this pack,” he snapped, his tone turning cold. "Now that Bridgette is back, why don't you go back to where you truly belong?"

Amelia paused, her hands gripping the fabric in her lap. For years, she’d swallowed every insult Asher threw her way just to honor the deal she had with Aunt Camille, but now she didn't need to endure any of it anymore. The contract was done and she was leaving soon.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze for the first time. “I don’t belong here." She smirked, making Asher's eyes widen in shock. He didn't anticipate her response to be like that. Usually, Amelia would just bow her head and receive insults.

Her calmness seemed to unnerve him. Asher’s smirk faltered before he recovered. “Good riddance,” he muttered. Then, as if on cue, another car pulled up, this one far too familiar.

Amelia didn’t need to know who stepped out. She could feel the shift in the air, the way the energy around the house seemed to change.

“Looks like someone’s back where she belongs,” Asher said, his smirk returning.

Amelia turned her head as Bridgette emerged from the car. The woman was stunning, with flowing auburn hair and delicate, poised air. She carried herself like a Luna returning to her throne, her every movement graceful and deliberate.

Bridgette smiled warmly as she approached the house, her soft voice carrying up the steps. “Asher, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Bridgette,” Asher greeted, his tone dripping with affection. “It’s about time you came back. Things haven’t been the same without you.”

Amelia stepped aside as they exchanged pleasantries, feeling more invisible than ever. But then, Asher turned his attention back to her, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“Amelia,” he said with mock sweetness, “why don’t you help Bridgette with her luggage? It’s the least you can do.”

For a moment, the room felt still, as if the very house was holding its breath. Amelia met Asher’s gaze, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she straightened, her eyes flicking to Bridgette, who stood awkwardly by the door.

“No,” Amelia uttered, firm and composed.

Asher’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Amelia picked up her suitcase and walked past them without another word.

It wasn’t long before Adam arrived. The familiar growl of his engine made Amelia pause at the top of the stairs, her suitcase in hand. She descended slowly, her steps measured as she watched him step into the pack house.

Adam’s face lit up when he saw Bridgette, his smile wider than it had been in years. “You’re here,” he said warmly, pulling her into a brief hug.

Bridgette smiled shyly, glancing at Amelia as though hesitant. “I hope I’m not imposing,” she said softly.

“Not at all,” Adam reassured her quickly. “You can stay here as long as you need while the renovations are done. Amelia won’t mind, will you?”

He turned to Amelia, his expression expectant.

In the past, this moment would have set her heart racing with fury and jealousy. She had mastered the art of playing the part—acting heartbroken, pained, and possessive—just as everyone expected a devoted Luna to be. It was how she fooled them into believing she truly loved him.

But now, she didn’t need to pretend anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.

“Of course not,” she said, a small, composed smile playing on her lips. “I’m happy to help.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard. Asher, standing nearby, shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. In the past, even the mere mention of Bridgette’s name would have triggered Amelia’s anger or jealousy. Yet here Bridgette was, standing right in front of her, and Amelia looked entirely unaffected.

For a moment, the room felt heavy with unspoken questions. Adam’s gaze lingered on her, puzzled, while Asher frowned, as though trying to decipher the shift in her demeanor.

Amelia caught their reactions and felt a quiet amusement bubbling within her. She almost laughed at their stunned expressions, their inability to comprehend the calm in her voice, and the indifference in her gaze.

It was funny, really—how she had once played this part so convincingly, bending herself into someone she wasn’t for the sake of appearances. But now, none of it mattered. She would be leaving soon, free from this charade.

A banquet was arranged to happen before her departure.

The grand hall shimmered with opulence, the glow of chandeliers casting warm light over rows of lavishly set tables. The room was alive with chatter and the subtle clink of crystal glasses. Pack members were gathered in clusters, their hushed conversations rippling through the air like the hum of a restless forest.

Seated quietly at a chair behind Adam, Amelia maintained her poise. Her placement, however, spoke volumes. Beside the Alpha sat Bridgette, radiant in her carefully chosen gown. The contrast wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. Amelia—the supposed Luna—was relegated to the background, while Bridgette took the place of honor at Adam’s side.

Adam rose to address the room, his commanding voice silencing the crowd. “Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the strength of our pack but also to honor the connections that make us unbreakable.” His tone was steady, but there was an unmistakable warmth when he glanced at Bridgette. “I’d like to introduce Bridgette, who is not only dear to me but to our pack. She’ll be staying with us from now on.”

The room rippled with murmurs, eyes darting between Amelia and Bridgette. Amelia caught snippets of whispers.

“So, she’s the real Luna.”

“The fake one should step aside. Everyone knows she’s not strong enough.”

“She never even got the Alpha's affection. That says it all.”

From across the room, Asher leaned back in his chair, his smirk sharp and cutting. “Well, isn’t this fitting,” he drawled, loud enough for Amelia to hear. “The Alpha’s Luna sits in the shadows while the real Luna shines.”

Amelia met his gaze, her expression calm, almost amused. The remarks weren’t new. For three years, she’d endured such petty jabs, each one met with the same practiced indifference. Inside, however, she couldn’t help but find it amusing how little they understood.

Adam’s voice broke through again. “Bridgette,” he said, signaling a servant forward with a small, ornate box. “This belonged to the previous Luna, a symbol of strength and unity within our pack. It’s time it was passed down.”

Amelia’s eyes flicked to the box as it was opened, revealing an intricately designed silver necklace, its centerpiece a luminous moonstone. She’d heard of it before—a treasure meant to signify a Luna’s rightful place beside her Alpha.

But Amelia had never received it.

“As the Alpha,” Adam continued, his tone brimming with purpose, “it’s my honor to entrust this to you.” He placed the necklace into Bridgette’s waiting hands.

The room erupted with whispers.

“She deserves it.”

“Bridgette is a true Luna. Not like her.”

“No wonder Amelia never got it. She’s weak.”

Amelia allowed a faint smile to curve her lips, though her amusement was far from kind. He couldn’t even wait until I was gone. He had to do it here, in front of everyone. It’s almost laughable.

Well, it was not as if the Alpha knew she would be leaving him soon.

And it was laughable, in its own twisted way. The Alpha, so sure of his righteousness, had no idea she would soon leave this charade behind. The irony made her want to laugh outright.

The evening continued with performances in the center of the hall. She-wolves danced gracefully to the rhythm of steady drums, their movements fluid and mesmerizing. The pack watched, captivated, the earlier tension melting into a semblance of calm.

But not for long.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—a she-wolf, her demeanor tense and charged. Her steps were deliberate, her gaze locked on Adam as she approached his table.

“Alpha Adam,” the woman called, her voice carrying a tremor of rage. She clutched a dark, ominous box in her hands. “You killed my husband!”

Gasps swept through the hall.

With a violent motion, she opened the box, revealing a bubbling black liquid. The acrid scent hit Amelia’s senses immediately. The liquid hissed, its malevolence palpable.

The woman was a rogue who slipped into the banquet with the help of her witch friend. In the past, Alpha Adam participated in a rogue hunting contest and killed the rogue woman's husband. Since that moment, she vowed to kill the evil alpha. Even if she had to put her life in danger, she urged her witch friend to give her the acid. She would kill the Alpha of Lotus Pack no matter what.

“I’ll make you pay!” The woman screamed, hurling the acid toward Adam.

Time slowed. Bridgette’s shriek cut through the chaos as Adam yanked her down, the pair dodging under the table just in time. The acid splattered against his chair, sizzling and eating away in the polished wood.

But not all of it.

Amelia’s sharp eyes tracked the remaining arc of liquid. It was coming toward her because Alpha Adam dodged the acid together with Bridgette under the table.

Time seemed to slow as the deadly substance hurtled closer. She growled, trying to pinch herself to get her act together.

Teleport, she thought to herself. Save yourself! No one else will.

But if she teleported now, in front of so many witnesses, her secret would be revealed. The Rising Moon bloodline--her rare and coveted ability-- would no longer remain hidden.

No one knows, she reminded herself, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Not Adam. Not Aunt Camille. No one.

Her mind raced. If her identity was exposed, it wouldn't end here. Wolves across the world would come for her. Rogues, packs, witches--everyone. They'd hunt her for the power she carried in her veins.

But the acid was mere seconds away. She had to make a choice!

Do it now! Or get hurt!

Her breath hitched. She had to decide.