“Luna Amarise, you and the Alpha have been bonded for thirty years. You share a son, a daughter and even a young cub. With such a complete pack lineage, do you truly feel no reluctance at all?”

The pack-law advocate frowned slightly, hoping I might change my mind.

Reluctance?

A cold curve lifted my lips.

Not long ago, I had been injured in a carriage crash on the mountain road. The Moon Healers contacted Alpha Emric Blackspire and our pup again and again.

No one answered. Not once.

When I finally woke from my coma, I saw that my daughter-in-law had forgotten to hide her latest crystal-recording.

That was how I learned the truth.

While I lay bound to moon-silver wards in a healing chamber, they were all gathered at Nightfang Citadel, hosting a grand feast for Emric’s first mate—Corinne Grimvale—celebrating her sculpture receiving a royal moon seal.

In the recording, my grandson ran across the stone hall, cub-laughter echoing brightly. Emric, his silvered hair catching the firelight, held Corinne close, his smile warm and unguarded.

I sat there the entire afternoon, numb, finally understanding that this self-deceiving mate bond should have ended long ago.

“I’ve decided,” I said calmly. “Prepare the bond-severance decree and the pack-equity transfer.”

On the day of our thirtieth mating anniversary, I chose to give Emric the grandest gift—and the last one.

Congratulations. He no longer needed to hide his true mate.

***

When I returned from the Council Hall, Emric stood on the balcony, speaking to his aide through a moon-communicator.

“Yes. The skyfire must bloom like a sea of stars. Only something that magnificent suits Corinne.”

In thirty years, Emric had never once brought me moonflowers. One year, I hinted that I wanted silver roses for my naming night. He only frowned.

“Why waste resources, Amarise? The gardens are full of blooms.”

I once thought he simply lacked tenderness. Yet now, he spared no expense to summon skyfire worthy of a queen—for her.

I stood silently in the hall. Emric ended the call, stepped inside, tossed his cloak at me without a glance.

“Why are you back so late? Dinner isn’t ready?”

Only then did I realize that I had never been his Luna—only a tireless pack servant.

Hiding the ache in my chest, I hung his cloak properly.

“Emric, I’m preparing your anniversary gift.”

His irritation eased. He even lifted a brow, clearly pleased.

“Then order food from the southern traders. You like cured boar meat, don’t you?”

Corinne liked it. The smell always made me ill.

Half a lifetime and he still knew nothing about me.

Before I could speak, his communicator lit up again.

He turned away quickly, but I had already seen the name.

Corinne.

Ten minutes later, he returned in haste.

“Working late tonight. Eat without me.”

I caught his wrist and handed him a single page and a pen.

“Emric, I’m thinking of replacing the pack carriage.”

He clicked his tongue, annoyed and signed without looking.

“Always extravagant. Fine. Don’t waste my time.”

He shoved the parchment back and rushed out, trampling a scarf as he went.

That scarf was one I had woven from frost-wool, fingers bleeding, for our last anniversary.

I picked it up and threw it away, as if discarding my own torn heart.

Then I removed my mate ring and entered his private chamber.

I turned the lock of his iron safe—Corinne’s birth moon.

It opened at once.

Inside lay an album, carefully preserved, filled with memories never meant for me.

Emric claimed three fixed Council journeys each year. Now I knew the truth. Every one of them was spent roaming foreign territories with her. Twenty years. From age thirty-five to fifty-five.

My hands shook as I turned to a page where they kissed beneath the golden light of Moonfall Glades.

She wore ceremonial swim-silk, radiant despite the years. He, though lined by time, still strong, still devoted. What bound them was not affection—but worship.

Earlier pages had yellowed. They were young then, reckless.

The first image showed them holding hands beneath an observatory spire as a meteor streaked the sky.

Below it, in Emric’s handwriting:

“I once missed a falling star. I hope I never miss the one who loves them.”

From black hair to white, they never did.

I remembered the day he marked me as his mate.

Under a star-filled sky on the high grasslands, he placed the ring on my finger, swearing loyalty before the Moon.

I finally understood—it was never for me.

Corinne loved the stars.

Those vows were never mine.

Pain split my chest. I set the album down as tears fell, endlessly.

I had chased Emric for three years before he accepted me.

My parents warned me. Said his heart was elsewhere. I believed love could be earned.

But a bond forced into being never grows sweet.

After thirty years, I had tasted only bitterness.

I fed him, raised our heirs, cared for the cubs, never resting.

Once young and radiant, I became worn and heavy with time. While he and his beloved remained untouched, glowing still.

Ten years ago, he began forgetting anniversaries, missing my birth nights, leaving me alone in healing halls with only a cold message.

I told myself—sixty-six disappointments and I would leave.

This was the sixty-sixth.

I placed the mate ring and the signed severance decree into his safe.

Then I lifted my communicator and dialed.

“Zevran Silverhaze,” I said softly, “do you still want my shares in the Blackspire Council?”

“Did I hear that correctly?” Zevran Silverhaze’s deep voice rose in disbelief. “You value me enough to hand over your council shares?”

When I stayed silent, he let out a low laugh.

“Then I’ll accept them. But in exchange, I have a gift for you, Amarise. How about signing a lifelong pact with me?”

“You always loved wandering beyond pack borders, didn’t you? I’ve invested in a grand inter-pack travel chronicle. I’m still missing the right voice to lead it.”

I stiffened. “But I’m no longer young and my image—”

“It’s never too late,” Zevran cut in calmly. “Fifty-five is nothing. The Amarise I remember was the brightest Moon-Voice to rise from the High Academies.”

He didn’t ask what I had endured. His tone left no chamber for refusal, as if fate itself had already aligned.

“Forget Blackspire. Look forward. I’ll come for you when I return from this journey.”

He was still just as forceful as he had been in his youth.

After a long pause, I exhaled. “Alright. I accept, Zevran.”

Yes. My life was only beginning. This time, I would live it for myself.

Emric did not return to the pack manor that night.

At dawn, he sent a message ordering me to bring breakfast to the council tower. “Prepare two portions. We have company.”

For thirty years, he had refused anyone else’s cooking. Fevered or exhausted, I still rose before dawn to prepare his meals.

An hour later, I pushed open the doors of his office—and froze.

Corinne stood there in a pale-gold jacket and fitted skirt. At her feet lay my favorite painting, torn to pieces, scattered across the stone floor.

Where it once hung now stood a new sculpture.

My mind went blank. Then anger surged.

“Who did this?” I shouted. “That was my painting!”

Corinne widened her eyes and covered her mouth lightly. “Oh no. I thought it was useless clutter—it was so unpleasant to look at. I replaced it with my own work. I’ll give you another someday.”

That painting was the only piece Emric and I had ever completed together, during a journey we once called our most precious memory.

Emric, flipping through documents, didn’t even look at me. He took the thermal container from my hands.

“No need. That thing had no value. Now that Corinne’s piece is here, this office finally has taste.”

He brushed past me toward her, careless enough to knock me aside. I fell hard.

Broken frame nails pierced my palm. Blood spilled instantly, pain sharp enough to steal my breath.

As I struggled to rise, my gaze caught something in the corner—soft pink undergarments, casually discarded.

My chest tightened as if crushed by an unseen claw.

But Emric saw none of it. Not the blood. Not the truth.

When Corinne looked up at him with teary eyes and said softly, “Emric, there were nut seeds in the oat stew. I’m severely allergic. I almost died,” his face darkened at once.

Without hesitation, he dumped the meal I had spent an hour preparing into the trash.

Then he glanced at me on the floor with cold contempt.

“Stop acting weak, Amarise. Get up and clean that trash. And don’t ever put nut seeds in food again.”

With that, he led Corinne away to enjoy a luxury breakfast in the upper district.

My body shook. My palm throbbed. Hot tears finally spilled.

That evening, at Corinne’s celebration feast, I saw him holding her hand, refusing to let her carry even a small pouch.

“Hands that shape art should be treated like a goddess’s.”

Yet I had spent half my life serving him like a low-ranking pack servant—scrubbing, cooking, enduring—no one ever asking if I hurt.

At home, I dabbed salve onto my wound and began sorting through every gift Emric had ever given me.

Each festival, he bought things in pairs. I once thought it was thoughtfulness, until I saw the truth through a hidden crystal-feed. Everything he gave me, he gave her as well.

Not a single gift was meant only for me.

He simply could not let her lack anything.

By the time I finished, the sun was already sinking. I didn’t even fix my hair before rushing to fetch my grandson, Nolan, from the academy.

As Nolan walked out with his classmates, a few cubs laughed and pointed.

“Hey, Nolan, is that your grandma?”

His face flushed. Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! She’s our pack servant!”

Then he held up a magazine image of Corinne, radiant and refined. “This is my grandma. She’s a famous sculptor!”

My ears rang.

This was the cub I had raised with my own hands.

While my son and his mate managed pack affairs with Emric, I had fed him, healed him and sung him to sleep. And now he denied me.

To him, I was shame.

In the carriage, Nolan kept his head down, staring at his shoes or the passing road.

This time, I said nothing.

No scolding. No correction.

Only silence—and the quiet mockery of the woman I had become.

When we reached my son’s home, Nolan whispered, kicking the ground, “Grandma… aren’t you angry?”

I looked at him calmly. “Nolan, do you want a different grandmother?”

“If you do,” I said softly, “I’ll help you get one.”

I handed him to the nanny and drove away without looking back.

When I returned to the pack estate, exhaustion weighing on my bones, the first thing I saw was the moon-harp piano dumped on the lawn like scrap.

Inside, Ronan stood at the entrance, hauling several large travel trunks inside.

“Mother,” he said coolly, “Aunt Corinne will be staying within our territory for some time. She dislikes noise, so I cleared out your music chamber and turned it into a sculpting hall for her.”

I stared at him. In that moment, I understood—I no longer belonged. I was an eyesore, a remnant left behind, stubbornly occupying a place where I was no longer wanted.

That piano had been his eighth naming-day gift to me, bought with every coin he had saved that year.

He once sat beside me in the sunlight, laughing, fingers tapping the keys, clinging to my arm and saying he loved me most. That cub was gone.

Swallowing the ache, I forced a smile through the tears pressing at my eyes.

“So this is how you treat your mother now.”

Unease flickered across his face—brief, awkward—when soft footsteps sounded behind him.

Emric stepped into the yard with Corinne at his side. His gaze was as cold as Ronan’s as it landed on me.

“Corinne fears the dark. Your chamber receives the most sunlight. Move out and let her stay there.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll take my things and leave.”

They had expected protest, perhaps tears. My calm answer clearly startled him.

“Amarise—”

“Oh, Amarise, you’re far too kind,” Corinne interrupted with a sweet smile. “Let’s live in harmony during this time.”

I didn’t look back. I turned and went upstairs.

One by one, I dragged out heavy storage bags. Each held years of silence, endurance and unspoken sacrifice.

When I tossed thirty years of memories into the disposal wagon, Emric followed, his brow furrowed.

“Why are you throwing away so much?”

“Just things I’ll never need again.”

My tone unsettled him. He reached into a bag and froze.

“These… these are the things I gave you.”

I smiled faintly. “Things from decades ago should’ve been discarded long ago.”

Just like certain people.

His expression darkened. “You used to cherish them.”

I had. Anything from him once made my heart light, clutching it as if it were the world itself.

But forever was too long. A heart soaked in betrayal couldn’t bear it.

I brushed past him. “There’s someone new in this house now. You never liked crowded spaces, did you?”

He seemed about to explain that Corinne’s stay was temporary, but I was already loading the last of my belongings into the carriage.

He sighed. “There’s a banquet tonight. You haven’t attended one in years. Come along with Corinne.”

He hadn’t brought me to a formal gathering in a long time. Since I aged and gained weight, I no longer fit beside him.

At the banquet grounds, they stepped out first.

The host smiled brightly. “Alpha Blackspire, your Luna is as radiant as she was in her youth.”

Emric didn’t correct him. He simply took Corinne’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“And this lady is…?”

Only then did he glance my way. A brief pause—then indifference. “She’s our aide.”

I stood rooted in place. I had expected it, yet it still felt like my chest had been split open.

Holding back the burn in my eyes, I lifted my head and walked inside with the last of my dignity intact.

Corinne clung to Emric’s arm, swirling her wine as they moved through the noble packs with ease, every inch a bonded pair.

I stood apart, a shadow watching from the edge. The laughter, the splendor—none of it belonged to me.

Then, without warning, sharp agony tore through my injured right calf.