“I—I’ll change the cake,” I said softly, reaching for the plate before he could push it further toward the sink.

Edwin dropped his fork with a loud clatter that made me flinch.

“Really, Selene?” His tone cut straight through me. “Still upset about the Sanctum thing? This is your idea of retaliation? Serving me this mess? You didn’t even try.”

He pushed the half-cut cake away with a look of disdain. “This is supposed to be your job”

Your job.

That phrase echoed louder than his accusation.

To him, that was all it was.

Keeping the pack house perfect. Making sure everything stayed smooth and presentable for him.

He never noticed the calendar reminders I set for warrior rotations, the budget approvals for the new daycare.

The late nights I spent balancing the pack’s funds, the scholarship program I managed for wolves studying in the human world.

The broken surveillance system I helped fix after the border glitch, or the mental health sessions I arranged for the she-wolves after the last rogue attack.

To him, I was the Luna who forgot his favorite dessert.

I forced the words out, holding the plate tighter. “It’s the same cake you’ve always liked. I used the Belgian cocoa you love and the recipe your mom taught me”

Edwin scoffed. “That doesn’t change the fact that it tastes like disappointment.”

I swallowed hard, the taste of shame coating my tongue.

I used to think life was about love. But I was just a convenient piece of trash used and discarded when no longer needed.

My sister stopped talking to me for no reason. My mate always belittled me and my mother reminded me I was a mistake, never like her perfect daughter, Laura.

I sacrificed myself without thinking about the cost.

Now I’m just a lonely woman with an emotionally absent husband, waiting for my light to die out.

The door swung open. High heels clicked sharply, and Laura’s scent filled the room.

She walked in with a smile and called out,

“Who wants dessert? Red velvet cake, anyone?”

Laura, of course. Confident, successful, her face was on billboards across the city. She wore ambition like perfume and carried herself like someone who always knew the world would bow for her.

She was the daughter our mother loved, the one she was proud to show off.

She walked in holding her son, all smiles.

“I just brought him to greet his father,” she said. “He’s been moody all week, even after the vacation his dad took him on.”

Her husband rushed to hug their son. My mother lit up instantly, showering Laura with praises.

“I heard about the new deal with the prestigious wolf company in Texas, my brilliant girl!”

Edwin, lounging at the table, lifted his head. “Any chance I could get a slice of that red velvet cake?”

Laura served him a piece, and he devoured it like it was heaven-sent.

“Now this is cake,” he said with a full mouth. “Not like that poison some people make.”

My eyes dropped to the burn on my hand—still raw from flipping my cake pan too quickly.

Then Edwin said, “Let’s go out. A Chinese restaurant just opened. My treat.”

Mother beamed. “Oh! There’s a dish on that menu I’ve been dying to try.”

Rowan, Laura’s son, turned to me. “Aunt Selene, aren’t you coming too?”

Before I could speak, Edwin laughed.

“She? Come on. Selene dropped out of college. She won’t get what we’ll be discussing, real business talk.”

Rowan paused at the door, eyes flicking toward me. “I’ll pack you something,” he muttered, barely meeting my gaze.

Then he followed them laughing, excitedly like I was never even there.

They didn’t say goodbye.

I stood there, tears slipping down before I could stop them.

The house reeked of burnt food and artificial red velvet flavouring. I sat down and reached for the same cake Edwin rejected.

I took one bite and spat it out.

It was dry, dense and tasteless.

I forgot the eggs. And the milk. God. I hadn’t even realized.

I wasn’t even present. I was here, but not really. Somewhere between surviving and disappearing.

Then I tasted the cake Laura brought.

It was soft, sweet and familiar.

Just like Edwin’s mother’s recipe.

And it hit me.

He gave it to her. The one recipe he used to call special, that I spent years learning just to be perfect for him.

I looked around the living room, eyes scanning the walls. Not one picture of me.

Edwin said I didn’t “fit the aesthetic.” Said I was too fat, and said I’d ruin the look of the house.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the cake down.

Then I cleaned the table. Washed every single plate. Wiped the counter. Sprayed his favorite air freshener lavender and cedarwood because that’s how he liked the house to smell when he came home.

Then I went upstairs.

The bedroom felt colder than usual.

I hadn’t truly shared this space with him in over six years. And the last time he touched me he moaned Laura’s name in his sleep.

I undressed slowly, slid into the bathtub. The water stung my skin, hot and too quiet. I whispered to the ceiling,

“I did this to myself.”

Maybe if I hadn’t loved so hard. Maybe if I didn’t keep giving pieces of myself to people who never gave back… maybe I’d still recognize the woman in the mirror.

If I didn’t keep handing out pieces of my soul to those who treated it like scraps.

Maybe… just maybe, I wouldn’t feel so hollow now.

And as their laughter echoed from the driveway, I reached for the razor.

Watching the blood color the water, soft and slow, like the night I held my baby and watched the light fade from his tiny eyes, something in me died that night.

And I cried. For him. For me.

For everything I used to be before I stopped mattering.

I woke up sore, my body aching from crying myself to sleep.

But today, I wanted something different. To dress up, go out, maybe even leave the pack for a few days. Just… breathe.

I walked to my wardrobe, straight to the corner where I kept the few things that were truly mine.

Not Edwin’s. Not the pack’s. Mine.

I’d saved for years—my Luna allowance, cash gifts from grateful pack members, the little I earned from homeschooling young wolves and selling written guides online.

That’s how I bought it. My Hermes Birkin 30. Over three hundred thousand dollars. My dream bag.

I reached for the box.

It was gone.

My heart skipped. I opened and closed every drawer, checked every box twice. Gone. The bag was gone.

No one had access to the wardrobe except me and Edwin.

I stormed into his study, not caring that he was on a call. “Where’s my Birkin?” I asked, breathless. “The new one. The one I kept inside the wardrobe.”

He frowned, lowering the phone slightly. “What the hell, Selene? No knocking?”

“I asked you a question,” I snapped.

He sighed like I was being dramatic. “I gave it to Laura. She’s been stressed lately. Deserved something nice.”

My chest tightened. “You… gave it to Laura?” My voice shook. “That was mine, Edwin. I saved for years. Why would you do that?”

He set the phone down, annoyed. “Because she’s the mother of my son. The heir to my throne and she deserves to look the part, something you could never understand.”

The words sliced through me, but I held my ground.

“Then buy her her own. Or collect it back. That bag wasn’t yours to give.”

He scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? You don’t deserve things like that, Selene. You wear it, and people will think some housemaid stole her madam’s bag.”

I felt my knees weaken.

“You’re old. Ugly. Bitter. That womb of yours is sealed shut, and no matter what you wear or carry you’ll never be her. So stop trying to relive what’s already dead. Count your days quietly.”

I slammed my fist on the table. “I bought that bag with my own money!”

Edwin laughed, cold and cruel.

“Your own money? Where exactly? Since when do you have money? Unless you’ve been sleeping with men behind my back.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

I thought of the long nights tutoring kids for their exams, the sleepless hours helping college students with projects.

The marital guides I painstakingly wrote and sold online.

Every coin I earned was from my own sweat and pain.

I never asked him for a thing—not for myself, only for the pack and family.

And now, he gave it away like I was nothing.

Edwin’s eyes narrowed, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. “Why are you staring at me like that? Stop nagging. I’ll grab you some $15 bag from the roadside later.”

My voice trembled. “Do you still love me?”

He snapped without looking up, “Stop the drama. Be grateful for once. You should be licking Laura’s shoes, she’s doing things you never will. Now hurry up, I’ve got a hangover, and I want some pepper soup.”

I turned away slowly, embarrassed. My feet felt heavy—too numb to carry me.

I didn’t know what hurt more: the stolen bag or the silence when I asked if he still loved me.

Edwin stopped me at the door. “I’m attending a pack event. Other Alphas will be there. Then a business conference after. Should give you a break from taking care of me—for two weeks.”

Later that afternoon, the whole family gathered for lunch. Rowan, his son, accidentally blurted out, “Dad, when will my suits for the events be ready? And my beach clothes?”

I glanced at Edwin, surprised. “I thought it was just an event for adults.”

“It is,” Edwin said. “But it’s compulsory Rowan attends, he has to learn the ropes of becoming an Alpha someday.”

Rowan then asked, “Aunt, what do you want me to get you?”

“A hairband would be nice,” I said quietly.

My mother, sitting beside me, slapped my hand and scolded,

“Do you even know how wrong it is to make a child talk at the table? If you had a child, you’d know how to take care of one.”

I muttered an apology, forcing a weak smile. The hurt had dulled, leaving only a hollow ache inside.

That night, as I packed Edwin’s things for the trip, a folded paper slipped from his pocket.

I almost tossed it aside but caught myself and unfolded it.

My legs went weak.

On the cover was a pre-wedding photo of Edwin and Laura.

Wedding?

I blinked as if that'd change what I was seeing, but their smiles didn't vanish.

My hands trembled as I read the details — the same Moonstone Sanctum I’d begged him to visit for our anniversary.

The venue, the events, the honeymoon plans. Then, the guest list.

Everyone was invited. My mother, our son, the pack elders — all in on it, except me.

No one said a word.

I covered my mouth, choking back a scream. My chest tightened; it felt like my heart was breaking.

Fifteen years of sacrifice, and now I was nothing but a fool — a forgotten shadow in their lives.

I remember the day I caught Edwin staring at Laura’s picture days before our mating ceremony and he said to me.

“She’s not wife material. Too young to understand what it takes to be Luna.” Then he looked at me and whispered, “But you, Selene, you’re different. I love you because you’ll always tend to my needs.”

I was only nineteen, almost twenty.

Like any foolish girl in love, I believed him. When he asked for a small court wedding, I didn’t argue. I’d dreamed of a fairy tale wedding, but I said yes because I loved him. I did everything he wanted, even when it hurt.

Now I see clearly. I ignored the red flags, thinking love had to be difficult. But while I thought he was my mate, he only saw me as a maid, someone to cook, clean, and obey without question.

Like I expected, no one noticed my tear-rimmed eyes, the patch of hair I’d pulled out in despair, or the fresh scars I hid beneath my sleeves, my only way to dull the pain.

My hands trembled as I stared blankly at the pancake batter, muttering nonsense just to stop myself from breaking down.

As usual, I washed endless dishes and cooked meal after meal to satisfy everyone’s cravings.

By noon, shopping bags spilled across the house—shoes, clothes, jewelry—proof I didn’t matter.

Rowan, my husband’s son, showed off his suit, grinning. “We have an important wedding on this trip. What do you think?”

I asked quietly, “Why a wedding? Isn’t this supposed to be a business conference?”

My mother snapped, “If you spent less time poking around and more time fixing your childlessness, maybe you’d be useful.”

Edwin sneered from his seat, “Since when did you become a detective? If you watched the news, you’d know one of my business partner’s daughters is getting married. Now, go get me a cold beer. The whole place smells like you haven’t showered today.”

I swallowed my tears, feeling invisible and worthless in the house I once called home.

As I handed Edwin his beer, he clicked his tongue. “The dry cleaner bailed. Family emergency. And every other place is closed. I want everything ironed—tonight. No creases, Selene..if I notice anything, you'll sleep in the cell”

Evening came fast.

The house buzzed with cologne, zipped luggage, and scattered shoes.

I stayed in the background, adjusting sleeves, buttoning shirts, tying scarves, wiping smudges from their polished shoes.

I even dabbed Edwin’s face with moisturizer like he asked, careful not to mess up his hair.

Then it happened.

A shriek tore through the hallway. “Mom! My dress!”

Laura stormed in, clutching her gown—ivory, pearl-stoned, and worth more than a year of my life.

The zipper hung open, broken clean through. She was trembling. “It’s ruined!”

Before I could speak, my mother was on me. A sharp slap cracked across my cheek, knocking the breath from my lungs.

“You stupid mistake of a child! What did you do?” she yelled.

I stood there, dazed, my fingers still stained with fabric softener and heat cream like a servant who forgot her place.

“I—I didn’t do anything,” I stammered, heart pounding. “I spent the night ironing, just like you asked. I didn’t even touch the dress.”

Edwin scoffed. “Of course you didn’t. Jealousy looks so ugly on you, Selene. You hated that I bought your sister something special, so you ruined it.”

My lips parted, searching for words but none came out.

“No, I swear—”

“Shut up!” he snapped.

Then he turned to the guards by the door. “Take her to the dungeon. Six lashes. Leave her there until I say otherwise.”

“What?” My voice barely came out.

“Don’t worry,” he turned to Laura, gently pulling her close, “I’ll get you another one, something even more expensive once we land. Let’s go, or we’ll miss our flight.”

The guards didn’t wait. Rough hands gripped my arms.

My feet scraped against the marble floor as they dragged me out.

Behind me, laughter resumed, luggage zipped, perfume filled the air.

The last thing I saw before the heavy door slammed shut was the hem of Laura’s heels brushing the floor... and no one even turned to look at me.

And as the guards shoved me into the damp, dark cell, pain laced through my back and my chest in equal measure.

I wondered—is this how I’ll spend the last days of my life?

Locked away like filth, punished for something I didn’t even do?