The message from Gate31 sat on my screen until dawn.

I took a screenshot, dragged it into a hidden folder, and shut the laptop. Today was our third anniversary. I planned to give Carter one last chance to explain himself.

I spent the afternoon in the kitchen, replicating the exact recovery soup from his rookie season. I placed the steaming bowl opposite his chair. The silver gift box holding my positive pregnancy test rested right next to his spoon.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Carter walked into the kitchen, already dressed in a tailored black suit.

He ignored the soup. Instead, he slid a gold-embossed charity gala invitation across the marble island.

"Sienna needs to re-enter the public eye," he said, adjusting his expensive watch. "You are giving her your seat at the head table tonight."

I stared at the thick cardstock. "Tonight is our third anniversary."

"We have plenty of time for dinners," Carter replied, snapping his cufflink into place. "Sienna's comeback is only tonight. You need to stay here and prepare her evening pain management."

He tossed a heavy garment bag onto the counter. "Iron this for her. The silk wrinkles easily."

I stepped back from the island. "You want me to prep her dress while you take her to the Pack gala?"

"Do not make this a fight, Lena." He reached past me, pulling a single silver-white rose from the anniversary bouquet I had arranged that morning. "She needs this for her lapel."

He turned and walked out the door.

Two hours later, I sat alone at the dining table. The soup had gone cold.

On my tablet screen, camera flashes illuminated the red carpet. Sienna clung to Carter's arm. Pinned to her silver gown was the Northcliff silver wolf badge—the crest meant exclusively for the captain's mate.

A reporter thrust a microphone forward. "Captain, who was your anchor during that brutal rookie shoulder injury?"

Carter paused. He did not mention the nights I stayed awake measuring his proteins or icing his joints. He turned his gaze to Sienna.

"She was the first person who taught me how to dream," he said.

Sienna offered a tearful smile. The live comment feed scrolled in a blur, fans typing furiously.

The reunited ice lovers.

She belongs by his side.

I tapped the screen, freezing his devoted expression. The empty chair across from me mocked my silence. I picked up the silver gift box. The plastic stick inside felt like a burning needle against my palm.

My phone buzzed. The official Pack account had just updated the gala roster. They replaced the traditional "Captain and Luna" portrait with a candid shot of Carter and Sienna. My name was entirely erased from the event’s thank-you list.

I stood up, covered the cold soup with a ceramic lid, and turned off the kitchen lights. I was done waiting.

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. Carter's caller ID flashed, but Sienna's frantic voice answered.

"Lena? The nerve painkiller is missing from the hotel recovery suite. Carter says only you know where the backup supply is."

Rain lashed against my windshield as I drove to the downtown hotel. I clutched the sealed plastic pillbox, my knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.

I pushed open the door to Suite 402 without knocking.

Carter knelt on the carpet, gently unfastening the metal buckles of Sienna's ankle brace. Her fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He stood up immediately, his jaw tight. "Did any reporters see you outside?"

Not a single question about my safety in the storm. Not a word about why I had to drive through the pouring rain.

"I used the service elevator," I said, my voice flat.

I bypassed him and walked straight to the duty nurse standing by the medical cart. "Check the seal," I told her, handing over the box. "Verify the dosage against my logs."

The nurse nodded, breaking the tamper-proof tape.

Sienna swallowed the pill with a sip of water. Seven minutes later, the glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor.

"Carter," she gasped, her hands clawing at her throat. "My chest is burning. My legs are numb."

"Sienna!" Carter lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor. "Get the medics! Now!"

The sterile lights of the Pack Medical Center hummed overhead. I stood in the hallway, locked out of the emergency room while Carter paced beside Sienna's bed through the glass window.

A doctor stepped out, his expression grim. "We pumped her stomach. She ingested a high-grade muscle relaxant, completely different from her prescribed nerve medication."

Carter walked out of the room. He slammed an empty amber pill bottle onto the waiting room table. My handwritten label was plastered across the front.

"Security pulled the footage," Carter said, his tone laced with ice. "Someone used your recovery-staff access code to enter the hotel suite medication room right before the gala. The woman on camera was wearing your gray cardigan."

"I was at the pharmacy on 4th Street," I said, meeting his furious gaze. "Two miles away. I was picking up your joint supplements."

"Show me the receipt," he demanded.

"I paid by card. The receipt is in my car."

"You have the most motive," Carter snapped, stepping into my space. "You know her medications better than anyone, and you were angry about the gala."

"Check the pharmacy cameras," I shot back. "Call them."

"I am not playing detective, Lena." He pointed a finger at my chest. "You swapped the pills."

I dug my hand into my purse. My fingers brushed the smooth edges of the silver anniversary box. I pushed it deep into the lining, burying it under my keys.

"Tomorrow morning," Carter ordered, loud enough for the duty nurses to hear, "you go to the locker room and apologize to Sienna in front of the team."

"I will not apologize for something I did not do."

"Then do not ever show up to the team as my wife or the future Luna again."

He turned his back on me and walked through the swinging doors to Sienna's room.

I watched the doors swing shut, my pulse pounding in my ears. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the Pack registry server.

I tapped the icon to initiate an emergency mate bond severance request.

"Read the statement, Lena," Carter ordered, adjusting the camera tripod in the center of the locker room. "The elders are watching the live feed. The entire coaching staff is waiting."

I ignored the typed paper resting on the wooden bench. Instead, I pulled a folded receipt from my pocket and flattened it directly over his script.

"Check the timestamp," I told him, tapping the printed ink. "I swiped my card at the pharmacy exactly when your security footage shows someone opening the hotel medicine cabinet. I want the original video file sealed."

Carter did not even glance at the receipt. He stepped into my space, his hand reaching for my neck. He unhooked the laminated team family lanyard from my collar. Next, his fingers brushed my shoulder, unclasping the silver future Luna badge from my jacket.

"Until the investigation concludes, you are banned from the medical wing," he announced, his voice projecting for the microphone. "You do not touch the players' food, and you do not handle any medications."

I turned my head. Sienna sat on the bench next to his captain's stall. She held the leather-bound Pack guest registry I had spent two years compiling. My handwritten sticky notes were gone, replaced by fresh white labels bearing her name.

"I am willing to forgive you, Lena," Sienna murmured, smoothing her thumb over the leather cover. "Just stop causing scandals. Carter needs to focus on the playoffs, not family drama."

I looked back at Carter. "Sign a receipt for the pass and the badge. Write down your exact reasons for revoking them."

"I am not playing legal games with you," he snapped.

I pivoted toward the blinking red light of the camera lens. "On this date, Carter Mills revoked my medical and dietary clearances based on an unverified accusation, refusing to review contradictory financial evidence."

Carter's jaw hardened, but he did not stop the recording. This was the first time his stripping of my rank left a permanent public record.

Naomi, the head healer, pushed through the swinging doors. She held the empty amber pillbox up to the harsh fluorescent lights, examining the edges of the label.

"The tamper tape on this bottle does not match the medical center's current inventory batch," Naomi stated, her voice echoing off the metal lockers. "Someone relabeled it after it left the pharmacy. I need forty-eight hours to run a full supply audit."

"Sienna's nerve reaction is worsening by the hour," Carter shot back. "We are not waiting two days for an audit just to give a jealous wife an alibi."

Sienna pushed herself up from the bench. "Carter, I think we should just—"

Her right leg buckled. She pitched forward, her shoulder slamming hard into the steel locker door.

Carter lunged, catching her waist before she hit the tile floor. "Naomi! Prep the surgical suite right now."

Naomi did not move. "Sudden loss of motor function does not align with last night's muscle relaxant overdose. I need to run a secondary scan."

"You will prep her for surgery," Carter snarled, hauling Sienna up against his chest. "Or Northcliff will find a healer who knows how to follow orders."

Ten minutes later, the diagnostic screens in the emergency bay flashed red. Naomi tapped the glass display.

"The nerve pathways are completely blocked," Naomi explained, crossing her arms. "To restore conduction this fast, she needs Moon Blood with a strong Alpha mate resonance. None of our current Northcliff vault samples are a match."

I turned toward the exit doors. I was no longer cleared for medical procedures.

Carter stepped into the doorway, blocking my path. "Where are you going?"

"You banned me from this wing," I reminded him.

"You are the only one here who shares a mate bond with a future Alpha," he said, his tone turning dangerously low. "If you did not poison her, prove it. Do the matching screen."

I stared at the broad chest I used to rest my head against. "You want me to use my body to buy back my innocence?"

"You caused the harm," he replied. "She is the injured one."

"Would you ask Sienna to risk a blood draw to prove a point?" I asked.

He did not blink. "Get in the chair, Lena."

Naomi stepped between us. "A screening swab does not equal consent for a therapeutic draw."

I walked past Carter and extended my arm toward Naomi. "Take the sample. And log a formal note in my medical file that I never refused life-saving intervention. I am only refusing his conviction."

I paused, locking eyes with the healer. "Also, document the seal anomaly from the pillbox in her official chart."

Naomi nodded, swiping the scanner over my forearm. She was the first neutral party to permanently record my side of the story into the Pack system.

The machine hummed. A printed slip slid from the diagnostic tray.

Naomi picked up the paper. She did not check the Moon Blood resonance percentage. She stared at the top line, her mouth pressing into a thin line. Her fingers gripped the edges of the report so tightly the paper crinkled.

I recognized that silence. I reached out and pulled the slip from her hands.

HCG levels. Seven weeks.

The secret I had buried in a velvet box last night was now printed in bold black ink.

Carter walked over, his steps heavy on the linoleum. He snatched the paper from my fingers. His eyes scanned the text, then dropped to my hand resting flat against my stomach.

For a single second, all the anger vanished from his face, leaving behind a complete, hollow blankness.

From the hospital bed, Sienna shifted her numb leg. "Carter?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Does this mean my surgery is canceled?"

Naomi stepped around the diagnostic cart and pushed the paper flat against Carter's chest.

"She is seven weeks pregnant," Naomi declared, her voice slicing through the quiet room. "Any therapeutic Moon Blood draw could mean this child will not survive the night."