Chapter 1

The day before my mate ceremony with James, I caught him in bed with Isabella.

He looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Emily, but Isabella is my fated mate."

I wasn't even surprised. I just thought to myself: *Like mother, like daughter. A home-wrecker's child will always be a home-wrecker.*

Without a second thought, I took the silver dagger James had gifted me and slashed Isabella’s face.

James threw me into the Pack's dungeon immediately.

And my Alpha father, Arthur, didn't raise a single objection.

While I rotted in prison, James married Isabella and became the heir to the Moon Shadow Pack.

Three years later, I was released.

James assigned twenty werewolf warriors to guard Isabella, terrified I would hurt her again.

But he was flattering himself.

Like a drop of water vanishing into the ocean, I completely disappeared from his life.

Our paths crossed again at my friend's tattoo parlor.

She was away on vacation, and with nothing better to do, I agreed to watch the shop for a few days.

His aura hadn't grown stronger at all. It didn't look like marking his fated mate had given him the power boost he expected.

My wolf, on the other hand, had long since recovered. She was even stronger than she was three years ago. Not that I felt the need to let anyone know.

But none of that mattered to me anymore.

I spat out my toothpick, tore open a sterile tattoo needle package with my paint-stained fingers, and asked calmly,

"Want to get this tattoo removed?"

He stepped closer. Sensing my scent, he clenched his jaw and squeezed out,

"Emily, this is the matching tattoo we got together."

My hand froze mid-air.

"Oh. It's been a few years. It definitely needs to go."

My tone was so indifferent that James winced. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.

After a long silence, he finally nodded.

I didn't say another word. My movements were swift and precise.

James's expression shifted before he finally forced a mocking smirk.

"Emily, if you're strapped for cash, you could have just called me."

"There was no need to post those ads on Snapchat just to lure me to this sketchy place and put on a show."

I smiled, keeping my tone as light as if I were chatting with a random customer.

"If I could act, I'd be in Hollywood."

"Besides, you saw that on Snapchat? A regular customer of mine posted that to help bring in some business."

With that, I grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the ink from my hands.

James stared at the towel.

It was once gray, but now it was faded and frayed at the edges.

He couldn't take it anymore and raised his voice.

"Emily, you used to be as proud as a princess!"

"Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled Alpha's daughter. If there was even a weird smell in your room, you'd kick the maids out instantly..."

"And now look at you..."

"Hey, Emily! Look at this tattoo, the color's fading already!"

The glass door swung open, and Maggie, wearing a floral shirt, walked in. She threw some design sketches onto the counter.

"Sure, Maggie. Leave it here, and I'll take a look in a bit," I said, taking the sketches. "It might be an issue with the pigment. Easy fix."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it." Maggie patted my shoulder, glanced at James, and whispered, "Got a client? I'll head out then. Talk later."

After Maggie left, I smiled politely at James.

"Well, Mr. Harrington, we're all done here. That will be twenty dollars, please."

"You..."

James stared at me, looking paralyzed. Finally, he pulled out his wallet, grabbed a few hundred-dollar bills, and slammed them on the counter.

I looked at the cash and shook my head.

"Mr. Harrington, this is too much."

"Keep the change," James said, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "Redo another tattoo for me. Is this enough?"

I was thrilled.

"More than enough. What design do you want? I can sketch it up for you."

I dragged a stool over and pushed it toward him.

Looking at his expensive, tailored suit, I found a clean cloth and laid it over the stool first.

James fell silent. He sat down stiffly, elegant but tense, resting his hands on his knees.