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?

Five days

That’s how long I spent in that cell, starved, cold, reduced to nothing in the eyes of the very people who once bowed in respect when I walked past.

Now they whispered, smirked, pointed like I was a joke.

The moment they let me out, I limped straight to the kitchen.

I didn’t care what I looked like. I tore into a loaf of bread with trembling fingers and drank the last juice box in the fridge like my life depended on it.

Then my phone pinged.

It was a message from Laura.

I didn't even know she had my number.

The message read

[Hey, I know we don’t talk much, but I hope that changes. The dress wasn’t your fault. It was a factory error. Please take something for the pain]

I read it once. Then again.

A production mistake?

After being whipped and locked away like an animal, this was supposed to patch it all up? Was this her version of comfort or guilt dressed in politeness?

I didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

I was still standing there, pasta in hand, water boiling behind me, when my phone pinged again.

This time, the message was from Edwin.

[I’ve asked my beta to issue a cheque for $100,000. That should cover your two weeks]

I laughed bitterly as tears slipped down my cheeks.

So this was it? Money as an apology? As if a check could erase the cell, the slap, the shame?

I could almost hear him: You better take it or leave it. Plenty of women would kill to be you.

I read it once. Then again. Then I deleted and blocked their numbers.

By evening, I needed air. Edwin never let me step outside the packhouse, not even to the market.

But tonight, I will.

I let my hair down. The long blonde curls he once called “ugly” spilled over my shoulders.

From a forgotten box, I pulled out a red dress I used to wear before I stopped trying to get him to notice me.

It clung to my body, showed my legs, made me feel something again.

I slipped into heels, shaky at first, but steady after a few steps.

Then I withdrew a little from my secret stash just enough for the night and went to the club.

I didn’t know how the night would end.

But tonight, I planned to forget. Even if just for a few hours.

Once, Laura came home raving about the club music and drinks.

I begged Edwin to take me too, just once.

He snapped.

“A Luna has no business in a club. No self-respecting woman does.”

But every Friday, he took Laura there to catch up over drinks and dance to loud music.

So tonight, I walked in on my own.

Heads turned. Men whistled. Women smiled. Complimented my dress, my hair.

I didn’t know how to respond. I just smiled awkwardly and kept walking.

At the bar, I ordered a few shots of liquor Edwin always said wasn’t “ladylike.”

I sipped slowly, scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from the crowd.

Then I saw it. A post from Katrina, our childhood friend.

I tapped it.

It was them.

Edwin and Laura. Exchanging vows in the Moonstone Sanctum.

Kissing like it wasn’t their first time.

Like I had never existed.

I watched as Edwin lifted Laura in his arms, spinning her around the sanctum, calling her the most beautiful wife.

My mother was in the background, crying.

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” she said.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered.

My marriage meant nothing. I was just a sacrifice. A stepping stone he used to rise to Alpha.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, tossed a few bills on the counter, and walked out.

Across the street was a spa I had passed a thousand times with Edwin in the car but never dared to enter.

A young woman smiled as I stepped in.

“Welcome to deluxe spa house”

“I’m here for a full facial and body massage,” I said.

The woman at the desk smiled and took my details. After a moment of checking, she looked up.

“We only have a male masseuse available right now.”

I smiled. “That’s fine.”

If Edwin could cheat with my sister, then I had every right to feel the touch of another man even if it was just for peace.

Inside the room, the masseuse’s hands moved with expert ease, kneading through the tension I didn’t realize I’d been carrying for years.

I passed my phone to the receptionist, asked her to take a few pictures and short clips.

As his hands moved to my lower back, I took a deep breath and made a call to a close friend at the pack court—someone who’d once offered to help when I was ready.

Then I made the call I’d been avoiding for years now.

“I’m done with this marriage ” I said simply. “It’s time I chose myself.”