Something inside me shattered.

I stepped away from the door, my breathing sharp and uneven. I wanted to throw it open, to scream, to demand an explanation. But what was there to explain? The truth was right in front of me, seeping through the cracks in the door. I was the fool. I had handed my mate over, placed him in Catherine’s waiting arms, and now he belonged to her.

I turned on my heel, walking away with my heart in pieces.

For weeks, I said nothing.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just... stopped.

Stopped making his breakfast. Stopped massaging his back after a long day. Stopped worshiping the ground he walked on like some pathetic, lovesick mate. I withdrew into myself, letting silence be my only companion.

And Luther noticed.

One evening, as I sat at the dining table, pushing my food around my plate, he sighed loudly, slamming his hand against the polished wood. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I lifted my gaze, meeting him with eerie calmness.

"You shouldn’t worry," I said, voice light, mocking. "Catherine’s there, isn’t she? Doing everything for you."

His eyes darkened. "Watch your tone, Cheryl."

I laughed softly. "Why? Afraid of the truth?"

His lips curled back in a sneer. "At least she can give me something you never could."

The words sliced through me, sharp as any blade.

I clenched my fists under the table. "Right," I murmured. "A child."

His silence told me everything I needed to know.

Then, as if fate enjoyed twisting the knife in my back, Catherine waltzed in, a smug smile on her lips. "I have news," she said, her eyes flicking between the two of us.

She reached into her bag, pulling out a small black-and-white photo. My breath hitched the moment I recognized it.

An ultrasound.

"I’m pregnant," she announced, voice thick with triumph.

The air in the room turned suffocating. I felt the walls closing in, pressing against my chest, stealing every bit of oxygen. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out every other sound.

But what truly killed me wasn’t the news itself.

It was Luther’s face. Pure, unfiltered joy.

The kind of joy he had never once shown me.

He turned to Catherine, his hands immediately wrapping around her waist. He pressed his forehead to hers, whispering words I couldn’t hear. They didn’t even notice me sitting there, a ghost in my own life.

I forced a smile, though my vision blurred. "Congratulations," I said, my voice hollow. "The Skyler pack finally has its heir."

Catherine turned to me, placing a hand on her stomach. "It’s your baby too, Cheryl. I’m just the surrogate."

I let out a bitter laugh. "It doesn’t look like one."

I left before I could break any further.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant howling of wolves. I stood at the edge, the wind biting at my skin. My mind raced, replaying every moment, every lie, every touch they shared behind my back.

I was so stupid. How could I have trusted them?

A soft voice broke through the silence. "Cheryl, I’m sorry."

I turned to see Catherine standing there, her face a mask of fake guilt.

"Sorry?" My voice trembled with rage. "You’re a homewrecker. You stole my mate."

She laughed, the sound light and mocking. "Luther doesn’t love you anymore," she said, stepping closer. "I have his baby. You have nothing."

The world turned red.

Before I could stop myself, I lunged at her. But before I could touch her, she gasped, stumbling back.

And then—she screamed.

She clutched her stomach, eyes wide with pain, before she collapsed onto the cold floor.

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

Luther eyes landed on Catherine, his face twisting in fury.

"What the hell did you do, Cheryl?!"

And just like that, I became the villain in my own story.

The slap came hard and fast, the sharp sting exploding across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, my vision blurring for a moment. The metallic taste of blood spread over my tongue as I let out a slow, controlled breath.

Alpha Luther stood before me, chest heaving with rage. His dark eyes burned with fury, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. "Apologize," he growled, his voice laced with authority.

I wiped the blood from my lip, refusing to bow. "I will never be sorry for something I didn’t do."

Catherine let out a dramatic sob, clutching her stomach like she had been the one struck. "She hates me, Luther," she cried, her voice shaking. "She said I should abort the baby—she doesn’t want me to have your child."

My stomach twisted at her lies, but I refused to let my pain show.

Luther’s face darkened. "You’re jealous, Cheryl. You’ve always been jealous of her."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Jealous? You betrayed me!"

"Enough!" he roared, making the walls tremble.

I lifted my chin, daring him to do worse. His gaze was wild with unchecked rage, and for a moment, I thought he might strike me again. Instead, he turned to his Beta, Mason, who stood silently by the door, watching the scene unfold.

"Lock her in the basement," Luther ordered. "She can rot there until she learns to respect her sister."

My heart stilled. "You wouldn’t."

Luther leaned in, his voice a whisper of ice. "Try me."

Mason hesitated for only a second before grabbing my arm, his grip firm. I didn’t fight as he dragged me away. It was no use. The moment Luther made up his mind, there was no changing it.

The Skyler pack basement was nothing more than a forgotten pit of darkness, damp and reeking of mildew. The heavy metal door creaked as Mason shoved me inside, the sound echoing through the stone walls before it slammed shut behind me.

The darkness swallowed me whole.

I slammed my fists against the door. "Luther! Get me out of here!"

Nothing. Just silence.

I slid down against the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs as the chill seeped into my bones. Hours passed, maybe more. The hunger gnawed at my stomach, my limbs trembling from the cold. I closed my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me, my mind drifting somewhere between sleep and despair.

This was how I would die. The lock clicked.

My head snapped up as the heavy door creaked open, golden light spilling into the basement. I blinked against the sudden brightness, my breath catching as a shadowed figure stepped inside.

For a brief, foolish moment, I thought it was Luther. But then he spoke.

"Cheryl," the deep voice was unfamiliar, yet strangely warm.

Vander Skyler. Luther’s stepbrother.

He knelt beside me, his face barely visible in the dim light. "You’re freezing.”

My body trembled, too weak to move. Vander didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped his arms around me, lifting me with ease. I wanted to protest, to demand why he was helping me, but the warmth of his body against mine lulled me into a hazy silence.

"Stay awake," he murmured as he carried me outside. "You’re not dying today."

The fresh air hit me like a slap, burning my skin. My head lolled against his shoulder as my vision blurred again.

"Why?" I managed to whisper. "Why are you helping me?"

Vander’s jaw tightened. "Because you don’t deserve this."

Everything else faded as unconsciousness claimed me.

I woke to the sterile scent of antiseptic and soft sheets beneath my body. My fingers curled into the fabric as I turned my head, squinting against the harsh white lights.

"You’re awake."

The voice was gentle, unfamiliar. I turned to see a healer standing beside me, her hands clasped in front of her. Vander stood behind her, his expression unreadable.

My throat burned, my voice barely a whisper. "Where am I?"

"Skyler Pack Hospital," the healer answered. "You were severely hypothermic when Vander brought you in. Had he waited any longer, you wouldn’t have survived."

A shiver ran down my spine. I had been that close to death?

"You need to rest," the healer continued, then hesitated before adding, "There’s something else."

Something about her tone sent ice through my veins.

"What?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

She exchanged a look with Vander before speaking. "You’re pregnant."

The words didn’t register. They couldn’t.

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline, for her to say she was joking. But she didn’t.

"That’s not possible," I breathed. "I—I can’t have children."

"The tests don’t lie," she said gently. "You’re about three weeks along."

I pressed a shaking hand against my stomach. I had spent years believing I was infertile. Years watching Luther look at me with disappointment, watching him seek solace in Catherine. And now…

A child. Luther’s child.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. No. I couldn’t let him find out. He had already discarded me like trash. If he knew about the baby, he would use it against me.

I turned to Vander, my voice hoarse. "Luther can’t know."

Vander didn’t look surprised. He studied me for a long moment before nodding. "What do you want to do?"

My chest tightened. "I want a divorce."

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t argue. "And the baby?"

I clenched my fists. "I won’t let him take my child."

Silence stretched between us before I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Would you… would you be willing to claim the baby as yours?"

For the first time, I saw something flicker in Vander’s eyes. He didn’t answer right away, just stared at me, as if weighing the weight of my words.

Then, finally, he exhaled. "If that’s what you want, then yes."

When I returned to the Skyler mansion with Alpha Vander, I saw Luther standing at the foot of the grand staircase, his face dark with jealousy, his piercing gaze locked onto Vander’s hand clasping mine.

His voice was sharp as a blade. "Why is she out of the basement?"

Vander stepped forward, his grip tightening protectively around my fingers. "Why the hell did you lock up your own mate? Left her to die in hunger and cold?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Luther scoffed. "She hurt Catherine—her own sister. And now she wants to harm the baby that will strengthen our bond."

I yanked my hand from Vander’s, stepping past him. "Enough!" My voice echoed through the grand hall. "I want a divorce, Luther."

His eyes flashed. "No."

The word was final, dismissive. As if my choice didn’t matter. As if I was nothing.

Days passed. I was trapped within these walls, unable to leave, unable to see Vander. Luther had barred him from entering the mansion, and the guards made sure I couldn’t sneak out either. I was a prisoner in my own home, suffocating in a golden cage.

I spent most of my time staring out the window, my mind racing for a way out. I couldn’t simply leave; it would damage my pack. A divorce wasn’t just between two people—it was political, a shift in alliances. Timing was everything.

Then, one evening, Luther came to my room. I didn’t look at him, but I felt his presence looming behind me.

"Catherine’s birthday is coming up," he said. "You’ll help prepare for it. It’s your only chance to apologize."

I turned slowly, my hands clenching into fists. "Apologize? For what?"

His gaze was cold. "For your jealousy. For making things difficult. This is your chance to prove you still have a place here."

I let out a bitter laugh. "A place? Do I look like a fool to you?"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The answer was clear.

Catherine would always come first.

The night of Catherine’s birthday party arrived, and the mansion was unrecognizable. Elegant decorations adorned the walls, expensive wines flowed endlessly, and the grand ballroom sparkled with golden chandeliers. It was a celebration fit for Luna.

But Catherine wasn’t the Luna. I was.

I stood near the back of the room, unnoticed, watching as Luther paraded her around like she was his queen. The way he looked at her, the way he held her waist, it was something I had never received from him.

My own birthday had passed months ago. No celebration. No party. Just me, sitting alone while Luther claimed he had urgent packing matters to attend to. But now, seeing this—how he moved heaven and earth for Catherine, I realized how blind I had been.

The expensive gifts he had brought for her weren’t simple tokens of appreciation. The lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way he defended her at every turn—it wasn’t just favoritism.

It was love.

And I had been nothing but a placeholder.

The party carried on, the loud music and laughter filled the air. I was nothing more than a shadow against the walls, listening to the whispers that floated around me.

"Isn’t she the Alpha’s mate? Why is she standing alone?"

"It’s obvious, isn’t it? The Alpha treats her like a stranger."

"I heard Catherine is carrying his real heir. Maybe Cherry’s being pushed aside."

Their words dug into me like claws, tearing at wounds that had barely begun to scab over. My hands trembled as I turned away, my vision blurring. I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out.

I spun on my heel, ready to escape, when a sudden screech rang through the ballroom. The microphone.

The music died. Conversations halted. All eyes turned to the stage.

And there, standing under the bright lights, was Vander.

My breath hitched.

His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with something fierce, something determined. He held the microphone in his hand, gaze sweeping across the crowd before landing on Luther.

"I won’t stay silent any longer," Vander’s voice carried through the room. "You all deserve to know the truth."

A murmur rippled through the guests, confusion and curiosity buzzing in the air.

"Alpha Luther has been lying to all of you." Vander continued. "Catherine was never Cheryl’s surrogate. She was never meant to carry the Alpha’s heir. Because she isn’t just a surrogate—"

He turned to Luther, voice laced with venom.

"She’s his mistress."

Gasps filled the room.

I felt my heartbeat slam against my ribs as every eye turned to Luther, to Catherine. Catherine’s face drained of color, her hands shaking as she stepped forward. "Vander, stop this. You’re ruining the party—"

"Oh, I’m not done yet," Vander cut her off. "I wonder, Luther—how long were you planning to keep up this act? How long were you going to pretend that Cheryl was your Luna when you’ve already replaced her?"

Luther’s fists clenched, his face twisting with fury. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t I?" Vander let out a cold chuckle. "Then why don’t we ask Cheryl?"

Silence. Everyone turned to look at me, and Vander gave me a look that silently urged—this was my moment to speak up.