Chapter 2

After dinner, as I mechanically laid out the suit he was to wear tomorrow, he suddenly pinned me down against the mattress.

"You've been so obedient lately. It doesn't even feel like you..."

As his kisses rained down on my face, the heavy scent of gardenia—the exact perfume Sophia always wore—assaulted my senses.

The heat in the room rose, making the fragrance overwhelmingly suffocating.

A sudden wave of intense nausea hit my throat.

I forced myself to swallow it down.

But lost in the heat of the moment, Alexander groaned Sophia's name.

My mind went completely blank. A searing pain tore upward from my lower abdomen straight to my chest.

In the next second, with strength I didn't know I possessed, I shoved him off me.

I sprinted into the bathroom and collapsed beside the toilet, dry-heaving violently.

Alexander followed me in.

Seeing what I was doing, the lust in his eyes evaporated instantly.

Leaning against the doorframe with a slight frown, his voice was tight with irritation. "What's wrong with you?"

I didn't answer. The sound of my wretched retching echoed through the tiles.

Losing his patience, he tossed out a cold remark:

"I'll have a private Pack Healer check on you tomorrow."

The roar of his car engine faded downstairs, taking any remnant of my sleep with it.

I curled up in the corner of the bed, struggling against the wave of physical sickness.

Inside me, my wolf whimpered in sorrow.

She was in agony from our mate's betrayal.

I climbed out of bed and rummaged through the drawers looking for medicine, but my fingers brushed against a pearl necklace tucked deep in the cabinet.

The cold metal suddenly felt scorching hot against my skin, burning so fiercely I almost dropped it.

I remembered that necklace.

It was the autumn after we first got together. Alexander took me to a charity auction. I had never cared much for jewelry, spending the whole night flipping through the catalog out of boredom. He had leaned in close, resting his chin on my shoulder, pointing at one page: "This one."

It was a South Sea golden pearl, lustrous and perfectly round. I glanced at the estimated price and shook my head. "Too expensive. Not worth it."

He said nothing, just smiled.

When the pearl was brought to the stage, he casually raised his paddle. Someone outbid him; he raised it again. The bidder pushed further, and Alexander simply threw out a number three times the estimate, silencing the entire room. When the gavel struck, he turned to look at me, his eyes shining with boyish pride and tender devotion.

"Do you like it?"

I nodded, stunned. He laced his fingers through mine, whispering, "Then it's worth it."

Later, I found out the auction was an event his father made him attend just for appearances; he hadn't planned on spending a dime. Yet he broke the rule for me.

When the necklace was placed in my hands, he said, "The color suits you. But if you ever get tired of it, I'll bid on something even better."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You waste money."

He laughed, pulling me into his chest, his chin resting on top of my head. "If it's for you, I'll waste all the money in the world."

In the years that followed, countless jewels flowed into my dressing room—rare, bespoke, and priceless pieces beyond count. But the one I wore most often was always this necklace. Not because of its value, but because of the way his eyes looked when he said "it's worth it" that night. They were the brightest stars I had ever seen.

Later, it became something I couldn't bear to throw away.

And now, it was something I needed to discard.

Pulling myself out of the memories, I carried the necklace to the balcony and hurled it into the night with all my might.

The golden pearl vanished into the flower beds below, lost from sight.

Two months later, an unexpected visitor arrived at the door.

Sophia.

She was dressed in the latest Chanel-style designer suit, an exorbitant luxury watch on her wrist.

Even the diamond earrings she wore were the ones Alexander had fiercely bidded on at an auction a while back.

I knew she had accepted Alexander's obsessive, possessive love.

Like so many women before her, she came to demand that I sever my Mate Bond with Alexander.

"He doesn't love you anymore. There's no point in holding onto this position," she sneered.

"And I need the Luna title to wash away the shame of being called a mistress."

Yet, right now, I needed the title too.

All I had left was Charles.

I could yield on everything else, but on this, I could not back down.