The very night she rehearsed and planned to say 'I love you' turned out to be the night she tragically lost everything. Starting from her mate, to her best friend, then the last, her pack.
The very night she rehearsed and planned to say 'I love you' turned out to be the night she tragically lost everything. Starting from her mate, to her best friend, then the last, her pack.
Elara's Pov
My heart pounded within my chest, a wild rhythm amid the lively city scene. Today was Kai's birthday, and I had arranged the best surprise.
A weekend escape to the Whispering Pines resort, located in the heart of Redwood National Park.
Kai loves nature, the aroma of pine needles and wet soil, the serene isolation of the woods.
I imagined us walking together, exchanging soft secrets beneath the star-filled night sky.
It was a significant difference from our small apartment in the city, where the only glimpse of nature we had was the drooping basil plant on the windowsill.
I grasped the tiny velvet case in my pocket, a nervous fluttering teasing my stomach. Inside was a silver wolf pendant, finely detailed with Celtic knots. It represented our bond, a vow of eternity.
Kai was consistently intrigued by werewolf myths...the instinctive bond with nature, power, and fidelity within a group.
He would even make jokes about being one himself...a playful sparkle in his eyes.
Naturally, I simply dismissed it with laughter. I had no idea...
I checked the time on my watch. Almost there. I informed Kai that I was working a late shift at the bakery...a needed falsehood to arrange this surprise. He would never imagine anything.
He was familiar with my extended hours and my commitment to my job.
He frequently grumbled...or at least teased...about my "flour-covered" kisses, yet I was aware that he privately appreciated my enthusiasm.
I halted in front of our apartment structure: an unremarkable, brick edifice located in an unremarkable area of the city.
The elevator was not functioning...as it often wasn't...and I huffed my way up the four flights of stairs while the scent of cinnamon and sugar clung to my clothing from the nearby bakery.
Arriving at door-4B, I retrieved the spare key hidden beneath the welcome mat and entered the house.
I crept in quietly, grasping my breath. The flat was unsettlingly silent. "Kai?" I whispered gently, partly anticipating him to leap from behind the sofa with a "Surprise!"
No reply.
I scowled. He ought to have arrived home by now. He finished his shift at the bookstore hours ago. Perhaps he had taken a break for a drink with his companions? I attempted to calm the increasing discomfort in my chest. I was acting foolishly. He was likely just delayed.
I chose to utilize the time to prepare. I prepared a small cooler filled with champagne and a selection of his favorite snacks.
I quietly entered the living room and started to organize everything on the coffee table. I lit several aromatic candles, filling the space with a cozy, welcoming light.
I even played his favorite jazz album; the soothing saxophone sounds floated through the apartment.
While I was organizing the champagne flutes, a small red envelope on the coffee table caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat. It was not written in my handwriting.
I extended my hand and grabbed it, my fingers trembling a little. It was directed to Kai, written in an elegant, almost fragile, handwriting from a woman.
A sensation of fear tightened in my stomach. I was aware I shouldn't, but realized I couldn't resist. I carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was just a single half-folded piece of paper. I opened it, my gaze scanning the text, and my breath caught in my throat.
Wishing you a joyful birthday love. I am excited to celebrate with you this evening. Meet me at The Crimson Moon at 8. Put on that shirt I love. And remember... I'm staying a bit just to perceive your scent again.
The name started with A."
My world shifted on its axis. It felt like the room started to whirl, the gentle jazz transformed into a distorted, mocking melody.
My hands started to tremble uncontrollably, my champagne glass fell from my hold, and shattered on the ground.
The fragments of glass were strewn over the carpet, mirroring the shards that represented my heart.
A... Who's that?
Suddenly, it dawned on me. A... Anya. My closest friend. The one who had been helping me with Kai's surprise...
A feeling of discomfort overwhelmed me. I stepped back, grabbing my chest as though the air had been knocked from my lungs.
This cannot be real.
Simply wasn't possible. Anya would never do that. She was my closest friend; we had remained inseparable since we were kids. We talked about everything, from secrets to dreams and laughter. Apparently, boyfriends as well.
My eyes stung, the tears eager to escape.
I gripped the wolf pendant in my pocket. The silver was cool to my touch, the extreme opposite of the burning when I bought it. A lie. It all was a lie.
I had to know. I had to know what had really happened.
I took my purse in my shaking hands. I couldn't stay here, in this apartment, surrounded by the remnants of my carefully constructed surprise, the echoes of their betrayal ringing in my ears.
I ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me. I didn't even bother locking it. What was the point? My life, as I knew it, was already shattered.
I hailed a taxi and gave its driver the address of The Crimson Moon, one of the 'in' places downtown. I knew Kai hung out there. He had once taken me there several months ago. I still remembered the low-lit inside, plush-velvet-covered seats, air thick with the smell of expensive perfume and unspoken desires.
As the cab whizzed along the city roads, I suddenly felt detached from the world around me-some supernatural controls turning my life into a movie. I was numb. In shock. I couldn't believe this was happening to me.
The cab pulled up in front of The Crimson Moon.
I paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the cab.
For a moment, I hesitated, my hand hovering in the air over the door handle. Part of me wanted to turn back, to convince myself I hadn't seen the letter, to hold on to that illusion of happiness, however fragile it was. But I knew I couldn't. I wanted the truth, however painful.
Taking a deep breath, I heaved the door open.
The bar was crowded, the music loud and pulsating. I scanned the room, my eyes searching for Kai. And then I saw them.
They sat in the little, low-lit corner booth against the back, framed in the pale yellow light filtering from a neighboring lamp.
Even Kai was donning the same shirt Anya had written in the letter of. He seemed to be chuckling, having his arm around Anya's shoulders.
And Anya inclined her head sideways into him as her hand went across his chest. They actually looked... comfortable. HAPPY.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. It was a physical blow, a punch in the gut, and the wind was knocked from my lungs.
I stood there, frozen, unable to move, my eyes fixed on them. I watched as Kai leaned in and kissed Anya, a slow, lingering kiss that made my blood run cold.
Everything around me faded into the distance: the music, the chatter, the laughter... all so muffled. The only thing I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears, the echo of their betrayal ringing in my mind.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't even feel anger. I just felt... empty. Hollow. Like a part of me had died.
I turned and walked away-my footsteps echoing on the polished floor. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
The smell of betrayal was heavy in the air, a bitter, acrid smell that clung to me like a shroud. It was a smell I knew I would never forget.
She was a world-renowned divine doctor, the CEO of a publicly traded company, the most formidable female mercenary, and a top-tier tech genius. Marissa, a titan with a plethora of secret identities, had hidden her true stature to marry a seemingly impoverished young man. However, on the eve of their wedding, her fiance, who was actually the lost heir to a wealthy dynasty, called off the engagement and subjected her to degradation and mockery. Upon the revelation of her concealed identities, her ex-fiance was left stunned and desperately pleaded for her forgiveness. Standing protectively before Marissa, an incredibly influential and fearsome magnate declared, "This is my wife. Who would dare try to claim her?"
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.
Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.
Nicole had entered marriage with Walter, a man who never returned her feelings, bound to him through an arrangement made by their families rather than by choice. Even so, she had held onto the quiet belief that time might soften his heart and that one day he would learn to love her. However, that day never came. Instead, he treated her with constant contempt, tearing her down with cruel words and dismissing her as fat and manipulative whenever it suited him. After two years of a cold and distant marriage, Walter demanded a divorce, delivering his decision in the most degrading manner he could manage. Stripped of her dignity and exhausted by the humiliation, Nicole agreed to her friend Brenda's plan to make him see what he had lost. The idea was simple but daring. She would use another man to prove that the woman Walter had mocked and insulted could still be desired by someone else. All they had to do was hire a gigolo. Patrick had endured one romantic disappointment after another. Every woman he had been involved with had been drawn not to him, but to his wealth. As one of the heirs to a powerful and influential family, he had long accepted that this pattern was almost unavoidable. What Patrick wanted was far more difficult to find. He longed to fall in love with a woman who cared for him as a person, not for the name he carried or the fortune attached to it. One night, while he was at a bar, an attractive stranger approached him. Because of his appearance and composed demeanor, she mistook him for a gigolo. She made an unconventional proposal, one that immediately caught his interest and proved impossible for him to refuse.
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
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