Adeline POV:

I parked my car at the scenic viewpoint of the cross-sea bridge. The howling night wind couldn't blow away the sickening afterglow of that man's climax, still pulsing faintly through the mate bond.

This disgusting sensation slithered through my veins like a venomous snake.

I closed my eyes and delved deep within. In the depths of my mental sea, the golden cord connecting my soul to Elliott's was flashing with a blinding light.

"Lyra," I called out coldly in my mind.

Accompanied by an earth-shattering wolf howl, the extreme freezing power of the ancient white wolf erupted instantly. I didn't try to pull or tug at the bond; instead, I mobilized this overwhelming power, turning it into absolute zero ice, and violently backlashed it along the cord!

Crack—

The bond, a symbol of submission and control, was completely and unilaterally frozen solid. I forcibly stripped his scent and his senses from my world, the way one cuts away dead tissue so the wound can finally close.

I picked up the phone again. The number I had dialed earlier was finally answered.

"Who the hell is this?" Sloane's voice was a gravelly, sleep-filled growl. "This better be a life-or-death emergency, or I'm billing you at triple my usual rate for waking me up."

Sloane Hayes (Shark).

Sloane had been my friend in college, before I became Adeline Carlisle. She was brilliant, ruthless, and had the sharpest tongue of anyone I'd ever met. Now, she was the most feared, and most expensive, divorce attorney in Northgate City.

"Sloane," I said, my own voice eerily calm. "It's me. Adeline Carey."

There was a three-second pause on the other end. I could almost hear the gears turning in her brain.

"Addie?" Her voice was suddenly wide awake, laced with disbelief. "Four years. Four years and not a single call, and now you call me at this hour. I thought you'd forgotten all about us poor people after you married into the Carlisle family?"

I ignored the question's accuracy. There was no time.

"I want to file for a Rejection."

"What?!" Sloane's voice sharpened instantly, all traces of sleep vanishing. "You want to Reject the Carlisle Alpha? Are you out of your goddamn mind? The Council of Elders will never allow an Omega to initiate a Rejection!"

"He cheated. With his secretary. On my marital bed," I stated, my tone as flat as if I were discussing the weather. "And, I already have the HD video of their climax."

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a low curse: "That son of a bitch."

"I don't need your comfort, Sloane. I need you to be the most ruthless shark you can be." I stared at the distant city skyline, murderous intent filling my eyes. "I don't just want a divorce. I want him stripped of everything. I want to tear off his hypocritical skin, and I want his entire family's empire to burn to the ground for what he did with his lower half. Can you do that?"

Sloane was silent for a moment. Then, I heard a chilling, low chuckle. It was the thrill of a shark smelling blood in the water.

"I absolutely love the new you, Addie. Tomorrow morning at nine sharp, bring your nuclear weapon to my office," Sloane's professional instincts fully awakened.

Hanging up the phone, I started the car engine again.

Tonight, I was absolutely not going back to that nauseating Pack House.

I turned the car around and drove toward the bustling heart of the city. A sleek, anonymous skyscraper stood tall in the night. I swiped a black card—one that only I in the entire world possessed—and drove into the ultra-exclusive private underground garage.

The elevator took me straight to the top. The doors opened to reveal a priceless, luxurious penthouse apartment. This was a property I had bought in full using an overseas shell corporation years ago. The entire Carlisle family knew nothing about it.

They thought I was just a dependent, clinging vine of an Omega, assuming the Carlisle family even had to pay for my art classes.

Little did they know, long before I married Elliott, I had already built my own business empire.

I walked up to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the brilliantly illuminated city below.

Elliott, you think you're in control of everything?

Enjoy your last peaceful night. Because tomorrow, when the sun rises, your hell begins.

Adeline POV:

The next morning, at precisely nine o'clock, I walked into the lobby of the most expensive office building in Northgate City.

I was wearing a charcoal grey suit. The tailoring was immaculate, the fabric whispering of quiet, untouchable wealth. My hair was pulled back in a severe, low ponytail. The fragile, artistic Omega was dead. Today, I was a predator stepping into another predator's territory.

Sloane's office occupied the entire top floor. The decor was aggressively minimalist: concrete floors, black leather furniture, and a single, massive abstract painting that looked like a blood splatter.

Sloane was standing by a floor-to-ceiling window, wearing a silk robe and holding a mug of coffee. Her red hair was tied in a messy bun, but her eyes were as sharp and focused as an eagle's.

She looked me up and down, letting out a low, mocking whistle. "Well, well. Look at you, Luna. The Carlisle money certainly suits you."

I didn't flinch. I walked straight past her and sat in one of the severe black leather chairs opposite her massive glass desk.

"Actually, I paid for this suit myself," I replied, my voice devoid of any warmth. "Carlisle's money carries a stench I can't stand."

Sloane raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my icy tone.

Before she could speak, I slid a thick document across the glass desk. "Before I show you anything, sign this. It's a Level-One Non-Disclosure Agreement drafted by my personal legal team. Sign it, or I walk out that door right now."

Sloane's smirk vanished. She looked from the paper to my face, a flicker of genuine shock in her eyes. She was looking at a side of me she never knew existed—the side that was absolutely in control.

She snatched the document, her lawyer instincts kicking in as she scanned the ironclad clauses. Without another word, she signed her name with a flourish. "Done. Now, show me what kind of disaster is worth you blowing up your perfect little life over."

I took out my phone, typed a few commands, and sent an encrypted link to her email. "The password is 'infidelity,' all lowercase."

Sloane sat down and typed in the password. The video began to play on her large monitor.

The office fell dead silent, save for the faint, tinny sounds coming from the speakers. The sounds of my husband and his secretary. Their grunts, their breathless whispers. Their disgusting betrayal, broadcast in crystal-clear high definition.

I watched Sloane's face.

Her initial look of professional curiosity rapidly morphed into sheer disbelief. Her jaw tightened violently. When the camera angle made it undeniably clear that the backdrop was my marital bed, a sharp curse escaped her lips.

"Son of a bitch."

When the video ended, the silence in the room was heavy, suffocating. Sloane gripped her coffee mug so hard I thought the ceramic would shatter. She had seen a lot in her career—ugly divorces, outright brutality—but an Alpha defiling his own marital bed with a secretary? It was an insult to the very concept of the mate bond.

"He fucked his secretary... on the Luna's bed?" Sloane's voice was raspy, disbelief warring with professional excitement. "This isn't just infidelity, Addie. This is a nuclear bomb to his Alpha authority. When was this?"

"Last night," I said calmly.

"Who is the slut?"

"Katy Lawson. His personal secretary."

Sloane's fingers flew across her keyboard like lightning. A few seconds later, Katy Lawson's professional profile filled the screen.

"Hometown girl, scholarship to state university, Omega..." Sloane murmured, scanning the details, her tone dripping with contempt. "Graduated top of her class but from a dirt-poor family. Looks like a classic rags-to-riches wannabe who thought spreading her legs was a career move."

"I want her completely investigated," I said, my eyes glinting with a cold light. "Every bank record, every text message, every dirty little skeleton in her closet."

"Consider it done," Sloane leaned forward, her expression turning predatory. "Now, let's talk endgame. What do you want, Addie? Take half his empire? Bleed his bank accounts dry?"

I turned my head to look out the window at the city sprawling below. In the distance, the Carlisle Industries tower stood tall, a monument to his family's arrogant power.

"I don't want a single cent of his filthy money," I said softly.

Sloane just stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. In her world, revenge meant taking everything a man owned.

I turned back to face her, my gaze as sharp as a scalpel. "I don't need his money, because I have more than enough of my own. What I want... is his absolute ruin."

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a steely whisper. "I want a public Rejection initiated by me, completely humiliating him in front of the entire Pack Council. I want him stripped of his pride, his status, and his Alpha dignity. I want to watch Carlisle Industries crumble to ashes. By the time I'm done, I want him to be a penniless stray dog who can't even afford the bed he cheated on."

Sloane sat frozen for a long moment. Then, a slow, terrifying smile spread across her face. It was the smile of a great white shark that had just smelled a bloodbath in the ocean.

"Addie," she breathed, her voice vibrating with a newfound, profound respect and a thrilling madness. "You're not just asking for a divorce. You're asking for a slaughter."

"And I need you to be the butcher," I said coldly.

"I'm taking this case," Sloane declared, slamming her hand on the desk. "Let's make that arrogant bastard pay in blood."