"Shut up, you wicked woman!" Lorde snapped, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

He was furious. Again. Wrecking everything I had worked so hard to prepare. It was his birthday. No event planner agreed to take us in. They’re too busy, they claimed. I didn’t argue. I found a way. I pulled together a small, meaningful celebration just for him. I baked cakes and cupcakes, cook food until my hand felt numb. For his classmates. For his trainers. I thought it would be enough.

But it never is.

“Lorde!” I shouted, panic rising as he grabbed the tray of cupcakes I had made from scratch and hurled one straight at my chest.

He grinned. That smile didn’t belong on a child. It was twisted, cruel.

“That’s what you deserve!” he yelled.

I shielded myself, arms raised as the frosting splattered across my blouse. My lips trembled, but I swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall. I didn’t know where the pain was coming from anymore. Was it the humiliation in front of his guests, the wasted effort, or the truth I’d buried for too long, that no matter what I did, I would never be enough for him?

“This woman is a lying bitch!” he spat, pointing at me. “She’s the reason I never had a real mom. She ruined my birthday just by being here.”

He turned to his friends. “Isn’t she a nuisance?”

They nodded, wide-eyed and quiet. Of course they did. Lorde was the future alpha of this town. No one would dare oppose him. Not even now he's six.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lucian’s voice rang out, loud and sharp, shaking the air.

Everyone froze. My husband stepped into the room, eyes scanning the mess, the frosting, the shattered glasses, the half-eaten food, the stunned council members in their clean suits.

Then he looked at me.

Lorde’s smile stretched wider as he turned to face his father, then flicked his eyes back toward me with a tilt of his head, almost daring him to see it.

“She ruined it,” Lorde said quietly. “Just like she ruined everything. She’s the one who killed my mother.”

The silence that followed swallowed everything. Even the music stopped.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. His gaze burned with rage.

“Hestia,” he said my name like it was poison.

I dropped to the floor and began picking up the fallen cupcakes with shaking hands. Maids rushed over to help, but no one looked me in the eyes. No one said a word.

I tried to fix the buffet. I wiped away the frosting, tried to align the trays, but my vision blurred. My fingers slipped.

“Sing for me,” Lorde said suddenly. “I want to blow the candles now.”

Lucian grabbed my arm. His grip was firm, his voice like ice. “Go.”

He dragged me closer. My steps felt heavy. My feet numb.

“Happy birthday to you…” the children began to sing, voices small and unsure.

I forced my lips to move. My voice cracked.

“Happy birthday, Lorde…”

Tears welled in my eyes. I wiped them away and smiled, hoping no one would notice the way my hands were trembling.

“I’ll make a wish now,” Lorde announced.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blow the candles. Just stared at me.

Lucian leaned close and whispered, “He’s waiting. Don’t make him wait.”

I hesitated.

Lucian shoved me forward. “Move.”

My knees buckled as I stepped closer. Lorde climbed onto a chair, eye level with me now. His eyes gleamed.

“I have a wish,” he declared. “On my seventh birthday, I wish…” He paused. The silence stretched too long. Then he pointed at me. “…for this woman to die. Just like she killed my mother. Her death would be the best gift I could ever receive.”

I gasped. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before I could react, he reached behind my head and shoved my face into the cake.

Pain burst through my temple. A wooden topper dug the skin near my eye. A caked seared into my cheek. I heard gasps. A few stifled laughs.

Frosting filled my nose, my lips, and even my ears.

I pulled away, choking, my face drenched in cake and blood.

“Happy birthday to me,” Lorde yelled behind me, laughing as he ran to his friends, “and happy death to my mother’s murderer!”

I staggered back, wiping the blood and cream from my face. My left eye stung. My vision blurred. The burning sensation didn’t stop.

I looked for him. For the boy I had raised. For the child I had tried to love. But all I see is how dark the truth is I can never make him love me.

I turned to Lucian. He didn’t blink, didn’t move. He and his son didn’t care whether they trampled me to the point I can’t think of anything but divorce.

“Divorce?” my stepmother gasped on the other end of the line. Her voice couldn’t hide the shock after I dropped the news the morning after the party.

“Yes, Mom. I’m sorry. I think… I can’t take this anymore,” I said, voice trembling in shame.

She married my father, and just a year later, he died in an accident. We were poor. She was wealthy. But she loved him so much that she saw a part of him in me and couldn’t let me go. She gave me everything. Education. A home. A future. She raised me like I was her own, even when her real daughter, Reese, refused to accept me.

“You can try harder, hija. It’s been five years. I’m sure they’ll learn to love you. And Lorde… he needs a mother,” she told me gently.

A bitter smile formed on my lips as I touched the cut on my arm from last night. I saw how happy they were, how peaceful they looked in my absence. While I was soaked in frosting and blood, they laughed like nothing had happened.

Lorde. I raised him.

After the accident that took my sister’s life, I woke up in the hospital to find her son already a year old. Lucian didn’t know how to care for a child, and the maid they hired was careless, often cruel. I was the only one who could look after Lorde without hurting him.

The Supreme Council decided Lucian needed a Luna, and Lorde needed a mother. I was the one who had to step up. And I did. For them. For my stepmother’s sake.

“Are you still there?” she asked again, her voice softer now. “Lorde used to love you. You just need to be patient with a child like him, hmm?”

He did love me once. Completely.

“Mommy, I want to eat with you, sleep with you, stay with you until I’m strong like Dad. Until I’m old, hmm?” he used to say when he was four, crawling into my lap.

“But you’re the future Alpha. You’ll be busy just like him,” I would tease, kissing his tiny hand.

“But you can stay with me! Teacher said a mother cannot live without her child. And I’m your child. You’ll love me endlessly, remember? You promised!” he’d say, showering my cheeks with kisses. “I’d be your forever baby.”

I laughed through the pain the memory brought. That boy would’ve thrown a fit if he saw me like this. Hurt. Bleeding. Alone. He used to shield me from his father’s rage, standing in front of me like a tiny warrior.

But that version of Lorde is gone now.

Poisoned by whispers from those who hate me, my sister’s old friends, her father who never wanted me in the picture. Who wanted me gone.

I went to the kitchen to make breakfast, hoping a simple routine might ground us both. But the moment I stepped inside, a saucer flew past my face.

It nearly hit me. Then came a plate that shattered against the wall behind me, pieces cutting into the back of my foot.

“Lorde, enough, baby,” I begged.

His brows furrowed, his teeth clenched. “Where’s the food? That’s the only thing you’re good at. The only reason you’re not completely useless is because you cook for us! Now, where’s the food?!”

I shut my eyes to calm my nerves. I didn’t answer. I simply walked to the fridge to grab ingredients. I didn’t want to make things worse for either of us. But silence only irritated him more.

“So now you’re numb?” he asked, stepping beside me.

“No, baby. I’m sorry. Mommy just wants to—”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. What happened next stunned me.

“Trying to act numb, huh? Here you go.”

I watched, frozen, as he pressed the back of a heated pan onto my stomach.

The fabric of my shirt clung to my skin. When he pulled it away while laughing, we both glanced down at my stomach. His laughter faded gradually while looking at my scar. Old scar.

It was long and rough, like something had sliced through me and been stitched back together. My stepmother once said it came from the accident. A piece of wood had hit me during the crash. I was lucky it only pierced my stomach. My sister… she hit a tree head-on. She didn’t survive.

Lorde’s expression changed. He stared at the scar, trembling. His lips parted. He blinked like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“It’s okay… Mommy’s fine,” I said, my voice shaking, trying to hide the pain.

He looked at me, horrified. “You…” he mumbled. “Did you have a baby… before?”

I frowned. “No, Lorde. Of course not. You said you didn’t want Mommy to have another baby—”

“But I love medicine! I read medical books, I’ve watched surgeries online. That…” He pointed at my stomach. “That’s a surgical wound from childbirth."

“Lucian, I want a divorce,” I said the moment Lorde left the dining table.

I caught him mid-sip of his wine, hoping the timing would soften the blow. But as soon as my words settled in the air, his bored gaze sharpened with irritation.

“If this is about Lorde again—”

“Why not?” I interrupted. “Whatever my reason is, can’t you just listen to me for once? I want to divorce you. Now.”

Lucian didn’t flinch. He let out a low chuckle as he stood from his chair, casually walking over to where I sat.

“Is this about that night I didn’t have time for you? I was busy,” he muttered, leaning in. “Fine. Let’s mate right now. Right here.”

He grabbed my hand to pull me up, lifting the edge of my dress like it meant nothing. My fury ignited. I shoved him away with all the strength I had, but it barely moved him. He was too strong. Too much.

His eyes darkened. “Now you’re acting like you don’t want it? What’s your problem?”

“This is my problem!” I snapped. “We’re not a real family! Lorde doesn’t want me here—”

“You’re upset over his attitude? He’s just a child!” Lucian shot back, irritated. “A mother should cater to her child’s needs, not act like this. No wonder he can’t stomach you. You’re overly dramatic.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me gutted once again by his words. I was about to follow him, to keep fighting, when I noticed a small shadow lingering under the archway near the kitchen.

“You want to leave us already?” Lorde’s voice was low, calm, but dripping with venom. “You want to escape me?”

I froze. The way he spoke, it was too calm, too deliberate. My lips trembled. My heart went cold with fear. He stepped into the light, his eyes burning with hatred.

“You probably want to live child-free, huh? Or maybe you just want to get out of here so you’ll no longer be tormented by the son of the woman you killed.”

His words pierced like blades.

“Lorde… I’m tired. I just want to rest,” I said, each word heavy with double meaning.

“Liar!” he spat. “You killed my mother to take her place, and now that you see how hard it is, you want out. You think this is prison, don’t you?”

He tilted his head mockingly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you leave this family.”

Then he turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

The next day, he was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know if he was hurting from the idea of me divorcing his father, or if he was celebrating my decision.

But that night, as I returned from my stepmother’s house, I walked into the kitchen and saw three people: Lucian, Lorde, and Beverly. She’s Lucian’s gamma. Much trusted than his beta and maybe because they have other relationship that that. I felt like I’d ruin the moment any minute but I must.

I cleared my throat. They all looked up, but only Beverly met my gaze with a smirk full of triumph. I knew she’s one of those who poisoned my son’s mind and turned him against me. They’re winning. He hates me.

“Finally, you’re here,” she said, her tone laced with mock sweetness.

Lucian followed with a disapproving glare. “Where have you been? You’re not even embarrassed that Beverly had to cook for us tonight?”

I didn’t respond. I just let out a breath and quietly said, “I’ll set the table.”

I kept silent as they talked. Lucian pulled out a chair for Beverly beside him. She served him and Lorde with practiced ease. I sat a little farther from them, unnoticed, forgotten. They looked like a happy family.

My chest tightened when I saw Lorde lean toward Beverly and ask her to feed him. The same boy who used to beg me for one more bite, one more bedtime story, now reached for someone else with trust and warmth I hadn’t seen in years.

I quietly started eating, but after my first bite, I lost all appetite.

“Are you okay?” Beverly asked, feigning concern.

Before I could answer, Lorde cut in.

“She’s fine. After all, she’s divorcing my dad. She’s leaving our family.” He turned to Beverly with a grin. “You’re a better mother for me, Aunt Bev.”

I felt a lump build in my throat. I grabbed the glass of juice in front of me and drank it down, trying to bury the ache. But halfway through, something felt wrong.

My stomach burned. My chest tightened. Then, nausea hit me hard. I began to vomit. First, it was just the juice. Then there comes the blood from both my mouth and nose.

“What’s happening?!” Beverly and Lucian shouted in unison.