The Alpha's Unwanted True Mate's Secret

Chapter 2

Word Count: 819 | Released on: Today at 09:46

ra's

e lights when I got

apped box with the Patek Philippe watch-which I'd snatched from the dining table in a daze before heading out-slid

at there

d midnight. Headlights swep

as h

scent of expensive wine and Jasmine's cloying perfume with him.

k? You look like a ghost." His

ice was terrifyingly calm.

face before his usual arrogance settled back in. "There was an emergency a

lips. "Yes. Just an anniversary. Not ne

. "Did you follow

ice called from the top of the st

ent her home with a driver an hour ago, presumably to steal more private time wi

or Conrad. "Aunt Jasmine said this one'

ulated strike, a testament to

in a pout. "Mommy, why did you call Daddy?

s lips. He looked at me as if to s

a folder in her hand. She stopped dead, her gaze taking in the scene: Conrad's

me the folder. "The background check you ordered l

voice a fierce whisper only I could hear. "It confirms your suspicions, ma

p. I stared at he

ly needs you. To them, you're nothing more than a tool. A

rmed the cold calculus I had begun to suspect. Th

voice cut through my shock, laced with irrit

d in. "Aunt Jasmine is sick, but she still

accusation from my daughter. Thi

ectly at him. The love that had lived in my eyes for so long was

walked past him

I felt a strange tremor through our bond-a flicker of

room and locked t

k, pulled out a sheet of heavy crea

Aurora. Always.' The mate bond had hummed bright and gold between us then. Now, it was a severed wire, sparking uselessly in the void. I couldn't believe

the page, I wr

e Agre

It illuminated the path I w

Chapter End

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The Alpha's Unwanted True Mate's Secret

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“On our sixth wedding anniversary, I sat at a cold dining table, waiting with a luxury watch I had spent months sourcing for my husband. But a vehicle tracker led me to an upscale restaurant, where he was throwing a lavish party for his "sick" assistant, Jasmine. What shattered me wasn't just the family heirloom he fastened around her neck. It was seeing our six-year-old daughter happily cutting the cake for her, forming a perfect family portrait. When they returned home, my daughter angrily accused me of ruining their night. Then, my assistant handed me a file revealing a sickening truth: Jasmine was infertile. The wealthy Harris family only married me so I could be a womb to breed a pure-blood heir. Conrad even bought Jasmine a replica of our mansion and let her wear a copy of my custom wedding dress. When I confronted them and tore the stolen gown off her, my own daughter violently shoved me into a sharp wooden banister. "You're a bad woman! Stop hurting Aunt Jasmine!" she shrieked. Writhing in agony, I watched my husband wrap his jacket around his weeping mistress, completely ignoring my injured back. He carried her away, while my daughter casually kicked the scattered diamonds from my ruined dress like dirt. Years ago, I nearly died taking a fatal blow for him, yet he gave Jasmine the credit and treated me like disposable trash. As I watched them walk away, my heart finally turned to ash. I slowly stood up, pulled out my phone, and called the world's top oncologist to cancel Jasmine's life-saving surgery. If they wanted her to live, it would cost them exactly fifty percent of their family empire.”