Bestie, My Husband is All Yours Now

"Bestie! Look at you, glowing! Or... well, glistening. Same thing, right?"

Natalie's voice was spun sugar-sticky, sweet, and likely to cause cavities. She sat by the hospital bed, her perfectly manicured hand hovering over Louise's arm like she was afraid she might catch the bad luck by osmosis.

Louise managed a smile that felt more like a grimace. "It's probably the fever sweat, Nat. Not exactly a spa treatment."

"Nonsense! You're a warrior," Natalie chirped, her eyes sparkling with something that looked suspiciously like predatory amusement. "How is our patient today?"

"Dying," Louise deadpanned, adjusting the scratchy hospital blanket. "My cells are currently staging a violent coup. I think they've taken the liver hostage."

Natalie let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her pearls-figuratively, since she was wearing a blouse that cost more than Louise's first car. "Don't say that! You have to stay positive. Mind over matter! Your wolf just needs a pep talk."

Louise sighed, glancing at the IV drip counting down the seconds of her life. "My wolf isn't just quiet, Nat. She's basically a throw rug at this point. She used to be this majestic, talkative creature, and now? I think she's ghosted me."

"She'll pull through," Natalie insisted, finally squeezing Louise's hand. Her grip was tight. Too tight. "We're besties. I won't let you go without a fight."

Besties.

The word bounced around Louise's skull like a rubber ball in an empty room. It was a weird label for a step-sister who had spent high school spreading rumors that Louise had lice, and their adult years "accidentally" spilling lattes on Louise's white blouses before big meetings.

But here Natalie was. The only person visiting.

The irony wasn't lost on Louise. Her husband, David-the man she had defied fate for-was nowhere to be seen. And her mother-in-law, Ella? She was probably somewhere lighting a candle against Louise's recovery.

"Where's David?" Louise asked, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

"Oh, you know David," Natalie waved a dismissive hand. "Working hard. For you. For your future."

"Right. My future," Louise snorted softly. "The one that's currently measured in weeks."

She thought of David. Seven years ago, he was her hero. He'd saved her from a pack of drunk alphas behind a bar. He was brave, kind, and made her laugh. When the Moon Priestess warned her that choosing a chosen mate over a Fated Mate would sever her connection to destiny, Louise had practically shouted, "I do!"

She was an idiot. A romantic, adorable idiot.

Now, David was a ghost in his own house. He blamed her for their lack of children, a sentiment his mother, Ella Salinger, amplified with a megaphone.

"My son should have married Natalie," Ella had sneered just last week, standing at the foot of this very deathbed. "She's obedient. She has child-bearing hips. You? You're a barren field, Louise. A waste of seed."

"I have cancer, Ella, not a curse," Louise had whispered.

"Same thing," Ella had barked. "You're bringing my David down. Cursed woman."

And David? He had stood there, checking his watch, as if his wife being verbally assaulted was just a boring commercial break.

Louise blinked back tears, refocusing on Natalie, who was currently scrolling on her phone with a bored expression.

"Hey," Louise said, trying to inject some lightness back into the room. "Thanks for being here. Really. Even if you did put gum in my hair in the tenth grade."

Natalie looked up, grinning. "Water under the bridge, babe! I'm your ride or die now."

Suddenly, Natalie's phone buzzed violently against the bedside table. She snatched it up, her eyes widening.

"Oops," she whispered, flashing a conspiratorial wink. "It's the Big Bad Wolf. Mr. Finch. He is royally pissed I took a sick day to visit you."

Louise's stomach did a little flip. Andy Finch.

Her old boss. The billionaire Alpha with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a personality cold enough to freeze it. He was Louise's "one that got away"-mostly because she never actually had him. She was the invisible employee; he was the titan of industry.

"Is he yelling?" Louise asked, feeling a strange pang of guilt. "Tell him I'm sorry."

"Oh, he's furious," Natalie giggled, standing up. "I better take this in the hall before he fires me through the receiver. Be right back, Bestie! Don't die while I'm gone!"

Natalie breezed out of the room, leaving a trail of expensive perfume in her wake.

Louise lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Don't die while I'm gone. Funny.

A minute passed. Then two. The silence of the room started to itch. Louise decided she didn't want to be the reason Natalie got fired. Maybe she could talk to Andy? Tell him to back off? It was the least she could do.

Grunting with effort, Louise swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her body felt like it was made of lead and rusty hinges, but she forced herself up. dragging her IV pole like a dance partner.

She shuffled to the door, leaning against the frame to catch her breath.

Down the hallway, she heard Natalie's voice. But she wasn't sounding professional. She wasn't apologizing to a grumpy boss.

She was laughing. A throaty, dark laugh that Louise had never heard before.

"You are a genius, baby," Natalie purred.

Louise froze. Baby? Mr. Finch was strictly a "Ms. Salinger, this coffee is swill" kind of guy. He wasn't a "baby."

"I've never met anyone with such vision," Natalie continued, her voice dripping with lust. "God, I love you. You're a born investor."

Louise's heart hammered against her ribs. She leaned closer, pressing her ear to the cold wall.

"How much is the payout? Five million?" Natalie practically squealed. "Holy Moon Goddess, we're going to be swimming in it! Yes, yes... don't worry. She looks terrible. Like a walking corpse."

The air left Louise's lungs. She means me.

"The doctor said two weeks, but honestly? I give her two days," Natalie laughed again. "She's so gullible, David. She actually thanked me for coming. It was pathetic."

David.

The world tilted on its axis. The floor seemed to turn into liquid. Natalie wasn't talking to Andy Finch. She was talking to Louise's husband.

"I know, I know," Natalie cooed into the phone. "We can use the insurance money for the villa in the South. Finally, we can get rid of her debt and start our family. Does your mom know? Oh, she's thrilled? Tell sweet Ella I said hi. Okay, I have to go back in there and pretend to give a damn. Love you, David. See you tonight at your place? I won't wear panties."

Click.

Louise stood there, vibrating. It wasn't the cancer killing her. It was the betrayal.

Her "bestie." Her husband. Her mother-in-law.

They weren't just indifferent; they were vultures. They were waiting for her to die so they could cash in her life insurance and play house on her grave.

She had spent years feeling guilty for not giving David a child, for losing his money, for getting sick. And the whole time, he had been waiting for the payout.

Natalie's footsteps clicked on the linoleum, coming back.

Panic surged. Louise scrambled back to her bed, throwing herself under the covers just as Natalie breezed back in. Her heart monitor was beeping faster, a erratic staccato rhythm that betrayed her terror.

"Everything okay?" Louise asked, her voice trembling. She hoped it sounded like pain, not fury. "What did Mr. Finch say?"

Natalie sat down, looking at the picture of concern. "Oh, just work drama. Nothing important." She reached out and stroked Louise's hair. "He's such a slave driver. But enough about him. You need to rest, Louise. We're all so eager to throw a big party... once you recover."

A party for my funeral, Louise thought, her vision blurring red.

"Can I really get better?" Louise whispered, letting a tear slip out. She needed to sell it. She needed time.

"Of course," Natalie smiled, her eyes dead cold. "You have the heart of a wolf. Cancer can't bring you down, Bestie."

But a knife in the back might.

Louise looked at Natalie-really looked at her. She saw the cruelty behind the makeup, the greed behind the smile.

I have to divorce him, Louise thought, her mind racing with a clarity she hadn't felt in months. I have to change the beneficiary. I have to call Andy Finch and ask for a lawyer. I have to burn their lives to the ground before I go.

She had to play along.

The plan was simple.

Evidence first. Confrontation later. Collect what she needed tonight, then divorce David and navigate whatever wreckage followed.

Yet, she never expected she'd die in the process.

Louise stood outside her own bedroom door, phone raised, hand steady.

From inside came the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame she had picked out three years ago at IKEA, accompanied by sounds that were definitely not someone assembling furniture.

She suppressed the urge to vomit. Instead, she focused on the camera framing. The lighting was decent, thanks to the hallway lamp. The audio was crystal clear.

And... Action.

She pushed the door open.

The scene before her was like a bad soap opera. David was on top, sweating like a pig at a roast, and Natalie was underneath him, her manicured nails digging into his back.

Louise didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply kept recording.

"Smile for the camera, lovebirds," Louise deadpanned. "The resolution on this thing is fantastic. I can see every pore of betrayal."

"Fuck!" David yelled, scrambling off the bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own discarded boxers. He grabbed a pillow to cover his privates, looking like a frantic, naked toddler. "Louise! Baby! Wait-it's not what it looks like!"

Louise let out a short, sharp laugh. "David, you were literally inside my step-sister. Unless you tripped and fell, and she just happened to be naked to catch you, I think it is exactly what it looks like."

"Please, let me explain!" David pleaded, his face turning a blotchy red.

"There is nothing to explain," Louise said, ending the recording and hitting save. Cloud backup: On. "We're done. I have the evidence. I'm filing for divorce, and I'm sending this to your mother. Let's see if Ella thinks her son is 'cursed' now."

David's face went pale. "You can't do that. I'm up for a promotion! Mr. Finch will fire me if this gets out. He hates scandal!"

"You should have thought about your career trajectory before you decided to host a team-building exercise in our marital bed," Louise retorted. She turned her gaze to the bed, where Natalie was pulling the sheet up, managing to look both guilty and smug at the same time.

"Anything to add, Bestie?" Louise asked, her voice dripping with sugar-coated venom.

Natalie sniffled, summoning a few crocodile tears. "Louise... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. We just... we couldn't help it. It's love."

"Love?" Louise raised an eyebrow. "You call sneaking around behind a cancer patient's back 'love'? I call it being a trashy cliché, Nat. Honestly, I expected better from you. Actually, no. I didn't."

"It's not entirely our fault!" David interrupted, finding his courage now that he had his pants back on. "I'm a man, Louise! You've been sick for months. You're always tired, you're always at the hospital... I have needs!"

The room went silent.

Louise looked at the man she had vowed to love forever. The man she had given up her fated mate for.

"So it's my fault?" Louise asked quietly, the sarcasm slipping away to reveal the hurt beneath. "My cells are eating me alive, David. I am fighting for my life. And you think because I couldn't serve you, you were entitled to sleep with my sister?"

"I didn't say entitled..." David mumbled, looking at the floor.

"That is exactly what you meant," Louise snapped. "You are a weak, pathetic little man."

She turned to leave, grabbing the doorknob. She needed fresh air. She needed a lawyer. She needed to get away from the stench of their cheap perfume and cheaper excuses.

But David lunged.

He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. "You can't leave, Louise. You can't post that video."

"Let go of me!" Louise shouted, trying to wrench her arm free. "I'm going to the police if you don't let me go!"

"I won't let you ruin me!" David growled, panic making his eyes wild. "You're my wife. You stay here and we fix this."

"Fix this?" Louise laughed incredulously. "There is no fixing this! I am divorcing you, and I am taking half of everything. Including the cat!"

Natalie sat up in bed, her eyes narrowing. "Wait... David? What do you mean 'fix this'? You said you were going to dump her anyway. You said she was a boring, barren burden."

David froze, caught between two angry women.

"Shut up, Natalie!" David snapped. "I just said that to get you into bed! Louise is my wife. She's... she's stable. She's good for my image. I'm not divorcing her for a fling like you."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Louise almost felt sorry for Natalie. Almost.

"Wow," Louise chuckled darkly. "Trouble in paradise already? Don't worry, Nat. You can have him. I'm generous like that."

Louise took advantage of David's distraction and shoved him hard. "Get out of my way!"

"No!" David shoved back.

It wasn't a calculated move. It was the desperate shove of a coward losing control.

But Louise was weak. Her body was frail from the chemo, her balance compromised. She stumbled backward. Her feet tangled in the rug.

She flailed, reaching for something, anything-but her hand only grasped empty air.

CRACK.

Her temple collided violently with the corner of the solid oak nightstand.

The world exploded in white light, then instantly faded to gray.

Louise collapsed to the floor, a doll with its strings cut. A warm, sticky sensation spread rapidly through her hair.

"Shit! Louise!" David screamed, dropping to his knees. "Louise, wake up! I didn't mean to!"

He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking so hard he dropped it twice. "I have to call 911. She's bleeding. There's so much blood."

He was about to dial when a hand snatched the phone away.

"Give it back!" David shouted at Natalie. "She's dying!"

"Exactly," Natalie said. Her voice was icy calm.

David blinked, looking up at her. Natalie stood over them, naked wrapped in a sheet, holding the phone out of reach.

"What?" David breathed.

"Think, David," Natalie hissed. "If she wakes up, what happens? She saw everything. She has that video. She will divorce you. You'll lose your promotion. Mr. Finch will fire you. You'll be broke, disgraced, and paying alimony to a woman who hates your guts."

David looked down at Louise. Her eyes were half-open, glazed and unfocused. She was trying to speak, but only a gurgle came out.

"But... she's my wife," David whimpered.

"She's an anchor dragging you down," Natalie stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But if she dies? It's a tragic accident. The poor, sick wife fell and hit her head. You're the grieving widower. You get the sympathy. And..."

Natalie smiled, a cruel curving of lips. "You get the life insurance. One million dollars, David. Plus the double indemnity for accidental death."

David's breathing hitched.

Divorce and ruin... or Death and millions.

Louise, lying on the floor, felt her consciousness flickering like a dying candle. She couldn't move her limbs. But she could hear. She could hear every word.

Call the ambulance, she begged silently. David, please. I was your wife. I loved you.

She looked up at him, trying to find the hero she had married seven years ago.

But David wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Natalie. He was looking at the phone.

"We... we can't just let her die," David whispered, but he didn't reach for the phone.

"We aren't killing her," Natalie soothed, stroking his hair. "We're just... letting nature take its course. She was sick anyway, David. She was in pain. This is a mercy."

"A mercy," David repeated, the word tasting like ash.

"Be a man, David," Natalie scoffed, her voice hardening. "I love your big cock, but sometimes you really lack the balls to do what's necessary. Do you want to be rich, or do you want to be ruined?"

David looked at Louise one last time. He saw the blood pooling around her head. He saw the betrayal in her dimming eyes.

He stood up.

He stepped back.

"I'm sorry, Louise," he whispered.

He turned his back on her.

Rage, cold and sharp, pierced through Louise's fading mind. He's leaving me to die. For money. For her.

Natalie crouched down next to Louise. She didn't check for a pulse. Instead, she placed her bare foot squarely over Louise's heart.

"Father always thought you were better than me," Natalie whispered, leaning in close so only the dying woman could hear. "Because you were the good sister. The smart one."

Louise tried to gasp, but her lungs felt heavy as stone.

"Sorry, Bestie," Natalie smirked. "But here's a little family secret to take to hell with you: Your mom was a bitch. She stole my dad first. I'm just balancing the scales. I stole your husband. I stole your life."

She pressed down with her foot, harder.

"Goodbye, Louise."

The last thing Louise saw was the victorious smirk on her killer's face.

I hate you, Louise thought, her soul screaming into the void. I hate you both. If there is a God... if there is a Moon Goddess... let me come back.

Let me burn you both to ash.

And then, the darkness swallowed her whole.

"Yes, you heard that correctly. Project Chronos is accomplished. This Christmas, Moonlit Tech is proud to present: The Time Button."

Andy Finch leaned back in his leather chair, spinning a pen between his fingers with the casual arrogance of a man who owned the skyline. He flashed a grin at the video screen-a grin that had closed billion-dollar deals and broken a few hearts along the way.

"It cost us two billion to convince a witch to sell us the proprietary spell work. Why a witch? Well, Mr. White, I know you hate the occult. I do too. Pointy hats, bubbling cauldrons, terrible fashion sense. But trust me, only those mystical ladies know how to rewind the cosmic clock. Finding one who wasn't already crispy from a medieval BBQ was a real treasure hunt."

Mr. White, the gruff CEO of White Enterprises, chuckled on the other end of the line. "You have a way with words, Finch."

"I try. Most of them didn't vacation well in the Middle Ages," Andy quipped, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But with this little gizmo? One press. That's it. You hop back in time to fix a blunder. Delete a text message, unsay a stupid comment, or... well, you tell me. Got any regrets you'd like to erase?"

"I want to go back and stop my daughter from having that child with a total loser!" Mr. White bellowed, the audio crackling.

Andy winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. Family drama. Classic.

"Fantastic motivation!" Andy recovered instantly, his salesman mask never slipping. "So, if I said a cool million could fix that slip-up-stop your daughter from swooning over the gentleman in question-would you part with the cash?"

"Not just a million. I'd shell out ten," Mr. White snarled.

Ten million. You could hire a very expensive hitman for that price. But time travel was cleaner. Usually.

"Exactly!" Andy pointed the pen at the screen. "Now you're seeing the vision! We're going to clean up."

"Swell. Can we go back as far as we want?"

"Ah, the fine print," Andy waved a hand airily. "Not quite. The chronal-energy displaces exponentially. Seven years, tops. Our whiz kids are working on stretching it, but for now, seven is the magic number."

"Seven years..." Mr. White mused. "Have you tested this contraption yet?"

"It's set for beta testing the moment the board gives the nod. Don't worry, our legal eagles are ready for any-"

Knock. Knock.

Andy's spiel was cut short. He frowned. He had a strict 'unless the building is on fire, do not disturb' policy during pitches.

The door creaked open. It was Everlyn, his secretary. Usually, the woman was as poised as a statue, but today, her face was pale, her hands gripping a tablet like a lifeline.

Something was wrong.

But ditch Oliver White, the Lycan King of industry? Not a chance.

Andy muted the mic, mouthing, "Make it quick."

Everlyn didn't move. She just stared at him, her voice trembling. "Louise is dead."

The pen in Andy's hand stopped spinning.

"Come again?" Andy blinked, his charming smirk faltering for the first time. "Which Louise?"

He only knew one Louise. But his brain frantically offered alternatives. Louise from Accounting? Louise the barista? Louise, his second cousin twice removed?

"Mrs. Salinger," Everlyn clarified, bursting his bubble with the force of a sledgehammer. "David's wife. She worked here until recently. You... you remember her, right?"

Not remember her?

Fat chance. He was half-senile from caffeine and overwork, but he'd remember Louise Salinger even if he had a lobotomy.

Without a word, Andy reached out and tapped the red 'End Call' button.

Mr. Oliver White, mid-sentence about stock options, vanished into the digital void.

"That was Mr. White," Everlyn whispered, eyeing the black screen.

"I don't care if it was the Moon Goddess herself," Andy snapped, standing up. His legs felt weirdly numb. "What happened? You said she was sick. Sick people recover. They don't just... drop dead. She has a wolf for god's sake."

"It wasn't the cancer," Everlyn said, swallowing hard. "It was an accident. A few hours ago."

Andy gripped the edge of his mahogany desk, his knuckles turning white. "Explain."

"Somehow she slipped at home and hit her head on the nightstand." Everlyn looked down. "By the time the ambulance got there, she was gone."

A roar of pure, unadulterated rage erupted in Andy's chest, so hot it almost burned.

She couldn't just die like that!

He didn't say another word. He grabbed his car keys, hurdled a potted plant, and sprinted out of the office, leaving a stunned Everlyn and a ten-million-dollar contract in his wake.

Andy's hands trembled on the steering wheel like he was vibrating out of phase with reality.

Louise.

Louise with the thick glasses that constantly slid down her nose. Louise, who used to sit in the farthest corner of the university library reading "The Socio-Economic Impact of Pack Dynamics" while everyone else was partying.

The girl he had poured his soul out to in a love letter during freshman year-a letter that contained, admittedly, some very mediocre poetry involving the moon.

He remembered her response clearly. A note sent back not even by herself, "I won't accept an idiot. Leave me alone. Andy Finch."

He had taken it as a challenge.

For four years, he had stalked-coincidentally met-her at coffee shops. He convinced himself that her harsh words were just a defense mechanism. She was a Beta, he was an Alpha; she was shy, he was loud. It was a classic rom-com setup.

He remembered that Christmas party senior year. Natalie had spiked the punch. Louise, tipsy and adorable, had wandered off.

Andy had followed her, his Alpha instincts prickling. He found her cornered by three rogues near the dorms.

"What color are your panties, darling?" one of the rogues had sneered.

Louise, bless her intoxicated, logical heart, had blinked and slurred, "I... I haven't checked the label today. I forget."

The rogues had laughed, moving to grab her. "Take 'em off, we'll check for you."

Andy hadn't thought. He hadn't planned. He just broke the leader's nose and scared the other two off with a growl that shook the snow off the trees.

He carried her back to her dorm piggy-back style.

"Who are you?" she had mumbled into his neck, her breath smelling of peppermint schnapps.

"A concerned third party," he'd deflected, trying to play it cool.

"You're nice," she whispered, patting his cheek clumsily. "I'm gonna marry a hero like you someday. Not a jerk. A hero."

"I'll hold you to that," he had whispered back.

He had walked home on air. He planned to ask her out properly the next day. He was going to be her hero.

But he waited too long. He played it too cool.

Two days later, she was dating David Salinger. A safe, boring, unremarkable Beta.

Andy had been crushed. He became the "efficient hater." For ten years, he watched her from afar. When she joined his company, he mocked her to keep her at a distance, terrified that if he was nice, he'd fall in love all over again.

"Do you always fail to deliver on your promises, Mrs. Salinger?" he used to taunt her.

It was his twisted way of asking: What happened to marrying the hero?

A few months back, Louise handed in her resignation. Andy was knee-deep in a big-deal negotiation in Los Angeles, and by the time he strolled back into the office, her desk was a hauntingly empty space. He stared at it, feeling an emptiness echo in his chest. Trying to play it cool, he casually asked David where his wife had disappeared to.

David shrugged it off, mentioning something about a minor illness and the need for some rest-nothing to lose sleep over, apparently.

Andy couldn't help but wonder if he'd been too hard on her all those years. In a rare moment of sentimentality, he even splurged on a bouquet of her favorite purple tulips, planning a visit once she was back on her feet.

And now?

Now she is dead.

Andy screeched his Aston Martin to a halt outside the Salinger residence. Police lights painted the suburban street in chaotic flashes of red and blue. The policemen were chatting with David, who regretfully blamed himself for not taking good care of his wife. A coroner's van was already there.

He watched as they wheeled a body bag out of the front door.

It hit him then. The finality of it. There would be no more sarcastic banter. No more watching her push her glasses up her nose. No more purple tulips sitting in his office vase, waiting for her to return.

She was gone.

Andy slammed his hand against the steering wheel, the leather groaning under his grip.

If I could go back...

If he could go back ten years, to that night in the snow, he would have kissed her. He would have told her, "I'm Andy Finch. I'm the hero. Choose me."

But the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

His gaze fell on the prototype sitting in the passenger seat. The silver box. The Time Button.

Seven years. That was the limit.

Seven years ago, Louise was already engaged with David. She was already lost to him.

Going back seven years wouldn't give him a clean slate. It would drop him right in the middle of the mess. He would have to be the villain. He would have to be the relationship wrecker. He wouldn't leave Louise to David this time. That man didn't deserve her.

Andy looked at the body bag one last time.

Then, a dark, reckless grin-the grin of a man with nothing left to lose-spread across his face.

"Seven years," he whispered to the empty car. "Challenge accepted."

He didn't care if he had to fight David, the Moon Goddess, or fate itself.

He picked up the silver box.

"Hold on, Louise," Andy murmured, his thumb hovering over the glowing red button. "Your idiot is coming to get you."

He pressed it.