Chapter 3
+ 5 Points
I stared at him, wide–eyed, completely thrown.
Marry him?
Was he serious?
I mean, sure, I didn’t exactly have a low opinion of myself, but–come on. Why would someone like him go out of his way to pick me as his Luna?
From the moment Lawrence marked me, the mate bond between Francis and me was severed. I’m not even considered his fated mate anymore.
It made no sense.
And yet, there he was, looking at me like he meant every word. His gaze was sharp, intense–too intense. I couldn’t hold it. I looked away, flustered, and that’s when I
Still gripping the fork.
His knuckles were white.
Wait… was he nervous?
The realization hit me like a splash of cold water. Somehow, it calmed me down. If Alpha Francis could be nervous, then maybe this moment wasn’t as terrifying as I thought.
I hesitated, then quietly asked, “Aren’t you and Lawrence… friends?”
His eyes went flat. Cold. “Him? That clown?”
Well… fair enough. The Silver Claw Pack wasn’t even in the same league as the Red Moon Pack. They were amateurs in comparison.
I took a breath, gathering what little courage I had left. “Do I… have a choice? Can I say no?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at me, expression unreadable, silent and still. But his grip on the fork tightened.
There was something about him–this quiet dominance, this tension beneath the calm–that made my spine stiffen without meaning to. It wasn’t fear exactly. More like… pressure. Like standing at the edge of something too big to see.
My lower abdomen throbbed faintly, the ache still lingering. Maybe it was that pain- or maybe it was remembering how this man once stood up for me, unprovoked–that kept me from brushing him off.
So I didn’t look away this time. I met his
eyes.
“Alpha Francis,” I said softly, “I just got out of a marriage that was completely empty. No love. No trust. I barely made it out in one piece. I don’t know why you’ve chosen me, but I can’t believe it’s because you actually…
“I do.”
His voice cut in, low and steady. Calm, but not casual. Like the kind of still water that hides deep currents underneath.
My heart skipped a beat. I forgot what I was saying.
And then he leaned forward, not much, just enough for his words to brush against my
ear .
“You can think about it,” he murmured. “Until the day you and Alpha Lawrence finalize the divorce. For now, eat. You don’t look well.”
I didn’t argue.
The rest of the meal passed in a blur. I barely tasted a thing. My mind kept circling back to what he said, like I was stuck in a loop I couldn’t break.
By the time we stepped outside, my
boughts were still spinning And then I
thoughts were still spinning. And then I spotted Alpha Lawrence and his entourage lounging near the entrance.
I stiffened, instinct kicking in. The last thing I wanted was to be seen with Alpha Francis. Not because I was embarrassed, but
because I knew how this little crowd thrived on gossip.
So I picked up my pace.
Alpha Francis noticed. His lips quirked into a faint, unreadable smile, and without a word, he adjusted his stride to match mine.
Across the room, I felt the shift. The sudden
attention.
Lawrence’s table went quiet as heads turned to follow our exit.
All they could see was the hem of my back. I wasn’t even trying–but next to Francis, I must’ve looked like a statement.
We were walking close. Too close.
His chest was practically brushing my back. We must’ve looked like lovers already. Or something dangerously close.
From behind us, Miranda’s voice cracked the silence. “That woman… doesn’t she look like Sophia?”
Lawrence scoffed. “No way!”
Then one of his friends chimed in, smug and loud, “Exactly. Come on, that’s Alpha Francis we’re talking about. Why would he be with Sophia, of all people? And in public? Nah. Sophia’s probably curled up at home, crying her eyes out like the doormat she’s always been.”
Lawrence, apparently feeling generous, pulled out his phone. The memory of me signing those divorce papers must’ve crossed his mind–so quiet, so compliant. He
sent me a million dollars and followed it up
with a message like he was doing me some kind of favor.
I’ll be staying with Miranda for now. Not convenient to come home. You’re pregnant, so make sure to eat well and take care of yourself.
The notification lit up my screen just as I stepped outside.
I stared at it, face unreadable.
Three years of marriage.
I’d tried to love him. I really had. But Miranda’s return had chipped away at whatever feeling I had left–until nothing remained but numbness… and the slow burn of betrayal.
So he did remember I was pregnant.
Interesting. In three years, he’d never once transferred me a dime. Not when I was sick.
Not when I moved into his pack. Not once.
Now that we were divorced? Suddenly, he had deep pockets.
I didn’t reply. But I accepted the money.
I wasn’t too proud for that. Recovering from a miscarriage wrecks your body, whether anyone else acknowledges it or not. And if I could use his guilt to pay for some peace and protein, so be it.
I took a few days to myself–long, quiet days at home, resting, healing. For the first time in forever, there was no Lawrence. No walking on eggshells. No pretending I was okay when I wasn’t.
Just me.
The sun streamed across the balcony, golden and warm. I stretched out on a lounger and let it wash over me, soaking in the stillness like it was medicine.
Chapter 4
Then my phone rang.
+ 5 Points
The moment I answered, a sharp voice pierced through the line like a whip:
“Get your ass back to the estate–now!”
It was old Luna Kayla.
My ex–mother–in–law.
