He Won an Award With My Song then Cast Me Aside

The spotlight blazed down on Jax like liquid gold, casting him in the kind of ethereal glow that made hearts skip beats across the nation. From my position in the shadows backstage, I watched him cradle the crystal trophy—the Moonlight Music Award for Best Song of the Year.

I was more than proud.

Because he used my song.

The one I'd poured three sleepless nights into, bleeding my soul onto the piano keys as I crafted every note, every lyric, every breath of "Eternal Bond" to celebrate our ten years together.

It was an honor to us both.

The crowd's roar was deafening, a tsunami of adoration that filled me with pride.

This was our moment. The moment when Jax would finally acknowledge what I'd given him, what we'd built together.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host's voice cut through the chaos, "Jax Arnold of Midnight Howl! Tell us, what inspired this absolutely breathtaking composition?"

My breath caught. This was it. The moment he'd promised me in our penthouse just last week, his hands gentle in my hair as he swore he'd tell the world about his brilliant mate, his secret weapon, his—

"Well, Marcus," Jax's voice carried that trademark smoky rasp that made millions of fans weak in the knees, "I have to give credit where credit's due."

Yes. Finally.

But instead of looking toward the wings where I waited, instead of calling my name, Jax's arm swept out to pull someone else into the spotlight. Sienna Blake materialized beside him like a vision in glittering silver, her sequined mini-dress catching every camera flash as she pressed herself against his side with practiced innocence.

"Sienna isn't just my bandmate," Jax continued, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he used to reserve for me, "she's my muse. Her free spirit, her wild soul—without her, this song would never have existed."

The world tilted sideways.

The audience erupted into screams of "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" and Sienna, that calculating little snake, let herself swoon dramatically into Jax's arms. Her dark eyes found mine through the crowd of crew members and security guards, and the smirk that curved her glossy lips was pure venom. She knew exactly what she'd done.

Something inside my chest cracked. Not my heart—that had been breaking slowly for months as I watched her slither closer to what was mine. This was deeper. This was the sound of ten years of faith shattering like cheap glass.

I stumbled backward, my hands shaking as I gripped the metal railing of the backstage platform. The roar of the crowd became white noise, distant and meaningless. All I could hear was the echo of Jax's words: *Her free spirit. Her wild soul. Without her, this song would never have existed.*

But it had existed. In my apartment at three in the morning, tears streaming down my face as I played the melody that captured everything I felt for him. In the demos I'd recorded on my phone, humming harmonies while I cooked his favorite meals. In the notebook I'd filled with lyrics about eternal love and unbreakable bonds—the same notebook currently sitting on his nightstand, covered in coffee rings and forgotten.

"Avery!" A production assistant grabbed my arm. "You need to move. They're bringing the winners backstage for photos."

I nodded numbly and let myself be herded toward the green room, but my legs felt like water. Every step was a monumental effort, every breath a conscious choice. The familiar weight of my engagement ring—the modest princess cut Jax had given me when we were barely out of college—suddenly felt like a shackle around my finger.

The after-party at Crimson Shadow's ballroom was a glittering nightmare. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow prisms across marble floors while the pack's elite mingled in designer gowns and tailored suits. The air thrummed with congratulations and champagne toasts, everyone eager to bask in the reflected glory of our—his—success.

I pushed through the crowd, my simple black dress feeling shabby among all the glamour. Every face I passed was lit up with excitement, every conversation centered on Jax's triumph. My triumph. The song I'd written in our shared bed while he slept off another night of partying with the band.

"Jax! Jax!" A cluster of music journalists surrounded him near the champagne fountain, their recorders thrust forward like weapons. "Tell us more about your creative process with Sienna!"

"Oh, it's magical," Jax laughed, that easy charm that had first captured my heart now feeling like a knife between my ribs. "She'll just start humming something, or she'll say a phrase that sparks this incredible melody in my head. It's like she reaches right into my soul and pulls out the music."

Sienna giggled—actually giggled—and buried her face against his shoulder. "Stop it, you're making me blush! I just try to inspire you the way you inspire me."

The way I used to inspire him. The way I'd spent a decade inspiring him, only to watch him hand my inspiration to someone else.

I forced myself forward, my heels clicking against the marble with each determined step. "Jax."

He looked up, and for just a moment, I saw a flicker of something—guilt? fear?—cross his features. But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Avery! There you are." His smile was bright and empty. "Isn't this incredible? I can't believe we actually won."

"We?" The word came out sharper than I'd intended. "I'm sorry, but did I miss something? Because from where I was standing, it sounded like Sienna wrote that song."

The journalists perked up like vultures sensing carrion. Sienna's grip on Jax's arm tightened, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his jacket.

"Avery," Jax's voice carried that warning tone I'd learned to recognize over the years, "can we not do this here?"

"Do what?" I stepped closer, close enough to smell his familiar cologne mixed with Sienna's cloying perfume. "Ask why my fiancé just credited another woman with three nights of my blood, sweat, and tears?"

The crowd around us had gone quiet, sensing drama. Phones appeared, cameras angling for the perfect shot of the future Alpha's domestic dispute.

Jax's eyes flashed with Alpha authority, and I felt the familiar pressure of his dominance pressing against my mind. "Avery, you're being petty. Sienna was just helping with the performance aspect. You know how important stage presence is for the band's image."

"Stage presence?" I laughed, and it sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Is that what we're calling it when someone takes credit for work they didn't do?"

Sienna chose that moment to let out a small, wounded sob. "Oh no," she whispered, her voice trembling with perfectly practiced vulnerability, "Avery, I'm so sorry if I said something wrong. Jax, maybe we should clarify? I don't want to cause any trouble, even if it means losing those endorsement deals..."

The implication hung in the air like poison gas. The band's success meant money for the pack. Money meant power. And power meant everything in our world.

Jax's jaw tightened. "See? This is exactly what I'm talking about. Sienna understands what's at stake here. She's thinking about the bigger picture instead of getting caught up in petty jealousy."

Petty jealousy.

Ten years of devotion, ten years of sacrifice, ten years of pouring my soul into his dreams—and he called it petty jealousy.

Something cold and final settled in my chest. I looked at Jax—really looked at him—and for the first time in a decade, I didn't see the man I loved. I saw a stranger wearing his face, a stranger who had taken everything I'd given him and handed it to someone else without a second thought.

I reached for my ring finger, and the motion was so automatic, so natural, that I didn't even realize what I was doing until the princess cut diamond was sliding over my knuckle.

"You're right," I said quietly, my voice cutting through the sudden silence like a blade. "I am being petty."

I held the ring up, letting it catch the light from the chandeliers one last time. Then I drew back my arm and hurled it with all the strength I possessed.

The ring arced through the air in slow motion, a tiny missile of shattered dreams and broken promises. It struck the champagne tower dead center, and the impact sent crystal glasses cascading to the marble floor in a symphony of destruction.

The sound was magnificent.

"Jax Arnold," I announced to the stunned crowd, my voice carrying clearly in the sudden silence, "we're done. Not just as mates—as everything. I'm terminating all contracts between myself and Midnight Howl, effective immediately."

Jax's face had gone white, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. "Avery, you can't—you don't mean—"

"I mean every word." I turned on my heel, glass crunching under my feet as I walked toward the exit. "Enjoy your muse, Jax. I hope she's worth it."

The last thing I heard before the ballroom doors closed behind me was Sienna's voice, high and panicked: "Jax? Jax, what does this mean for the tour?"

I smiled as I stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in ten years, I had absolutely no idea what came next.

And it felt like freedom.