The Alpha's Unwanted True Mate's Secret

Chapter 4

Word Count: 678 | Released on: Today at 09:46

ra's

to a suitcase. I would move into one of the guest rooms. I co

ock c

re, his frame filling the doorway. He s

s burning with a mixture of r

wled, grabbing my wrist. His grip was like steel

ned my stomach. "Let go of me, Conrad," I sp

a snarl, he threw me onto the massive bed. His w

the tense silence. His Alpha instincts were screaming, demanding h

ut. I fought him, my nails digg

cending toward mine when a frantic,

heard loud nois

oice, high and l

umbling in his chest. His inner wolf w

I needed. I drove my kne

ambled off the bed, pulling the shreds of my nightgown ar

rder. He smoothed his shirt, sta

e, her face stre

errified state. But her concern wasn't for me. She

, but at me. Her small fa

shrieked. "Aunt Jasmine says you're always

ughly my daughter had been turned against me. A s

to his arms. He shot me a look of p

mured, his voice a silken weapon. "

. "Your little rebellio

t like ice in my veins. I looked at the two of them, this father

ma. "Daddy's fine. We'll go downstairs

'cool off,' his tone

shoulder. She gave me one last look, her eyes

hut, leaving me al

mal. But the spiritual annihilation delivered by my own husband

the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees.

here for a

he last flicker of warmth in my

s a deep, dark, bott

Chapter End

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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.”