Chapter 2

Elara POV

The cold, gray light of dawn finally crept through the high windows of the Great Hall, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the dead air. I hadn't moved from the shadows beneath the staircase. My blistered hand throbbed, a grounding reminder of the silver poison in my veins and the absolute lie that was my marriage.

The heavy front doors groaned open. Adrian stepped inside, bringing the damp morning chill with him. But beneath the scent of rain, a sickeningly sweet aroma hit my nose-*tuberose and champagne*.

Seraphina's scent. It clung to him like a second skin, aggressive and territorial.

I stepped out of the shadows, keeping my face a blank canvas. Adrian paused, startled, before quickly arranging his features into a mask of doting concern.

"Elara? You're up early," he said, stepping forward to pull me into a hug.

My stomach heaved at the overwhelming stench of his mistress. I subtly shifted my weight, stepping just out of his reach. "I couldn't sleep."

His arms fell to his sides, a flicker of annoyance crossing his handsome face before he masked it with a smooth smile. "Pack business in the neighboring city kept me all night. An emergency with the commercial real estate accounts."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bright orange Hermes box, holding it out to me like a peace offering to a child. "A late anniversary gift. To make up for my absence."

I didn't reach for it. My eyes bypassed the expensive box and locked onto his collar. There, stark against the crisp white fabric, was a dark red lipstick smudge.

Adrian followed my gaze. The silence that stretched between us was deafening. The charming, apologetic husband vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by the ruthless Alpha who despised the woman standing before him.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, rumbling cadence. He lunged forward, his hand snapping around my wrist with bone-crushing Alpha strength.

Pain flared up my arm, but I didn't flinch. I just stared at him with dead, empty eyes. I was playing the broken, wolfless Omega he believed me to be, letting him feel the absolute control he craved.

Disgust flashed in his eyes. He shoved my arm away as if touching me physically repulsed him. "Ungrateful mutt," he spat. He tossed the orange box onto the sofa cushion and stormed past me, his heavy footsteps echoing up the grand staircase.

I stood alone in the quiet hall for a long moment. Then, I picked up the box and walked straight to my private bathroom, the only room in the Pack House with a lock I controlled.

I clicked the deadbolt into place and leaned against the sink. I opened the box. Inside lay a brightly colored silk scarf.

It was expensive, certainly, but it didn't make sense. Adrian didn't buy me gifts. I pulled out my phone and opened a private browser, navigating to an exclusive luxury forum dedicated to the high-society she-wolves of the packs.

It only took a three-minute search to find the exact scarf. My blood ran ice-cold as I read the thread.

The scarf was widely mocked on the forum as *purchase-with-purchase trash*. It was a mandatory, useless add-on item that clients were forced to buy to build enough purchase history for the real prize: a custom, *silver-free Birkin* bag.

Adrian hadn't bought this for me. He had used pack funds to buy Seraphina the ultimate status symbol, a bag completely devoid of the metal that could harm our kind. And he had tossed me the leftover requirement, the literal garbage of his transaction, to keep his docile wife quiet.

I looked at my pale reflection in the mirror. There were no tears. The sheer magnitude of his disrespect didn't break me; it forged me. He had quantified my worth-less than his mistress's wrapping paper.

I carefully folded the scarf, placed it back into the orange box, and shoved the entire thing into my worn canvas tote bag. I needed to keep it. I needed to look at it every time I felt a sliver of hesitation.

If I was going to tear Adrian's life apart, I needed to start with the woman he was building it for. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. It was time to go to work.