Genius Luna: Her Ex-Alpha Regretted it

After an intense moment of passion, Rhea Seehorn lay in Patrick Fabian's arms, her body glistening with sweat. For once, Patrick didn't immediately slip away to the shower. Instead, he held her tightly from behind, with an intensity that made her feel as if he wanted to merge their bodies into one.

Rhea felt herself melt into his embrace, her heart unexpectedly light and filled with excitement, tension, and a hint of sadness. It had been three years since their wedding, yet this was the first time he had ever held her like this.

For the first time, she felt truly loved.

Her heart raced, beating wildly, as if a caged bird inside her chest had been set free. She slowly turned around to face him, hugging him back with all her strength. A pure, sweet smile spread across her face as if she had embraced the whole world.

They stayed like that, entwined in silence.

Finally, Patrick released her, sat up, and pulled on his clothes. He took a cigarette from the drawer, lit it, and inhaled deeply. His sharp features blurred in the haze of smoke, hiding any hint of emotion. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the cigarette burning dangerously close to his fingers.

Rhea cleared her throat softly. "Didn't you quit smoking?"

Patrick stubbed out the cigarette, his deep gaze locked on hers. After a few seconds, he broke the silence. "Rhea, let's end this."

The words struck her like lightning on a clear day.

Rhea froze, feeling her heart turn cold and brittle, shattering into pieces. Her face went pale as she looked at him in disbelief, her voice shaking.

"Did I... do something wrong?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Amy's back. I'm sorry."

Amy Adams-his ex.

A knife twisted in Rhea's heart. She and Patrick were fated mates, bound by destiny. But three years of being by his side, sharing every moment, couldn't compare to the shadow of the woman who had now returned.

Being a fated mate didn't matter; her wolf form was that of an elf-wolf, and that was her original sin. Elf-werewolves, a blend of werewolf and elven blood, were rumoured to have the power to allure men.

Their destiny often involved multiple fated mates. Long ago, a powerful Alpha had defied his pack members to marry his elf-werewolf fated mate, and they had lived peacefully-until she met her second fated mate, the Rogue King, the Alpha's half-brother. In a tragic betrayal, she handed the Rogue King crucial pack secrets, leading to the Alpha's defeat and the fall of the pack.

Since then, elf-werewolves had been regarded as an omen of misfortune, never trusted fully by their mates, even if they were fated mates. They were relegated to lower positions within the pack, often taking on the role of an Omega.

Rhea had always sensed that Patrick was drawn to her body, yet she never felt his love. Perhaps he had never truly seen her as a lifelong mate. His heart had always belonged to Amy, a woman from a pure blood rich wolfpack as he is. No wonder that, in all their time together, despite his passion, he had held back from marking her as his.

Her heart sank, defeated and sorrowful. Rhea bit her lip, her body stiff and cold.

With trembling hands, she slipped on her clothes and moved to leave the bed.

Patrick caught her by the shoulder, his voice gentle.

"Where are you going?"

Rhea forced back her tears. "To make breakfast."

"Let me do it today." His voice was low, almost tender.

Rhea managed a quiet nod, lying back and pulling the covers over her damp eyes.

When he left the room, she stumbled into the bathroom, unable to hold back the flood of tears. They fell like broken beads, refusing to stop. She hadn't known that loving someone could hurt this much, like he had taken a piece of her heart with him, leaving only raw pain.

Time passed in a haze until Patrick called for her to come downstairs.

She splashed cold water on her face, again and again, but her eyes remained red, swollen with grief.

When she came down, she saw Patrick waiting for her in the dining room. Dressed in a tailored suit, his tall frame and refined air radiated authority, befitting the future Alpha of the Fabian Wolfpack, one of richest wolfpacks in the country. Just standing there, he commanded attention.

Rhea silently took her seat.

He leaned closer, noticing her red eyes.

His gaze softened. "Have you been crying?"

Rhea tilted her head, forcing a weak smile.

"I got face wash in my eyes. It'll go away soon."

"Be careful next time. Let's eat." He sat beside her; his tone soft.

Rhea took the fork from him, her eyes falling to his well-shaped hands.

She had never felt so sorrowful over a meal in her life.

Afterward, she rose from her seat, barely whispering, "I'm going to pack my things."

Patrick's hand tightened briefly around his fork.

"No rush."

She gave him a bitter smile. If it had come to this, wasn't it better to leave on her own than to be thrown out?

Upstairs, she packed her belongings piece by piece, the weight of each item a reminder of her shattered heart. Hours later, she zipped her suitcase and headed downstairs.

Patrick stepped forward, reaching for her bag.

"Let me do it for you."

"No, I've got it." Rhea straightened her spine, holding her suitcase as she walked to the door.

She paused to take in the familiar flowers and trees, the memories flooding back. She had loved him, wholly and fiercely, for three years.

Love, companionship, intimacy-none of it mattered now.

It was time to let go.

At the front door, a car awaited. Patrick handed her a check. "Thank you for being with me these past three years."

Rhea stood still, uncertain if she should accept it.

Patrick pressed the check into her suitcase.

"Take it. You'll need it."

She answered softly, "Okay."

Lifting her gaze, she took one last look at his lips, his high nose, his handsome face.

Someday, she thought, she would stop loving him. Maybe it would take three years, ten years, or a lifetime.

Patrick held her gaze for a moment, then pulled her into a fierce embrace. His face calm, but his eyes tumultuous.

"If you ever need anything, call me."

Tears threatened again, but she swallowed them back.

"Alright."

"I wasn't well the past two years. I know my temper was hard to bear."

"It's alright."

"Take care of yourself."

"You too." Rhea raised her arms and hugged him back as if it were a final farewell.

Then, she let go.

Pushing him away gently, she brushed her tears, grabbed her suitcase, and turned to leave.

After a few steps, she heard Patrick's voice.

"Who is Christopher?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her steps faltering.

Memories long buried surfaced, crashing over her like a tidal wave.

He spoke again, his voice softer.

"He must be important to you. I'm sorry I kept you for three years. I hope you find happiness."

Rhea's heart swirled with emotions, unsure of how to respond. Slowly, she turned back to Patrick.

He didn't smile often, but when he did, it was enchanting, like a gentle spring breeze filled with warmth. His blue eyes sparkled with the light of distant stars.

He must be thrilled, she thought, now that he was finally going to be with his former lover.

Rhea smiled too-a smile born from the shattering of her heart.

"I wish you happiness as well," she said before turning and stepping into the car.

As soon as the door closed, tears spilled down her face, the fresh wound mingling with old pain, overwhelming her with the urge to curl up and hide.

The driver loaded her suitcase into the trunk, got in, and started the car. Watching it speed away, Patrick's smile froze, his eyes dimming as the light faded from them.

As an elf-werewolf, Rhea was destined to have many fated mates in her life, and Patrick knew he was never meant to be the only one.

Apparently, this man Christopher had come before him and had already claimed a space in Rhea's heart. He had lost count of the times he had barely restrained himself from marking her, but he couldn't let himself do it.

Forcing her to stay by his side, knowing she didn't love him-that was too selfish. Even though sending her away made his wolf howl painfully in his brain, there was no other choice.

Back home, Rhea dragged her suitcase through the door.

Her mother, Amanda Seehorn, took one look at Rhea's swollen eyes and the suitcase in her hand, immediately alarmed.

"Rhea, what happened?"

Rhea lowered her gaze, slipping off her shoes and forcing a calm tone.

"Mom, I've moved back in."

Amanda shot up from the sofa.

"You're separating from Patrick?"

"Mm-hmm. His ex-girlfriend has returned."

Amanda's face reddened with rage.

"Three years ago, after that accident, the doctors said he'd never walk again. He was so weak he couldn't even shift! His ex left him in his darkest hour, and you were the one who stayed by his side. You took him all over the world, searching for treatments, massaging his legs, helping him with his recovery, nursing him day and night like a caretaker. And now that he's back to his old self, she shows up, and he just lets you go? How shameless! Is he blind?"

Rhea bent down, pulled out the check Patrick had given her, and placed it in her mother's hand.

"This is his compensation."

Amanda's eyes widened at the long string of zeros on the check. She counted them-eight in total!

Her expression softened slightly.

"It's not about the money. Do they think they can treat people like this just because they're pure-blood and rich?"

Rhea lowered her gaze, her voice soft.

"Some women get nothing at all, while others are calculated against. Some men even kill their wives to avoid sharing property. Compared to that, Patrick isn't so bad."

"But can you accept this?"

Rhea forced a bitter smile.

"His heart isn't with me, and there's no point in holding on. I'm tired, Mom. I just want to sleep."

"Then go on and rest, sweetheart." Amanda watched her with a heartbroken expression, sighing deeply.

Rhea turned and went to her room, sleeping through the next two days and nights.

On the third day, she finally mustered the strength to get up.

After freshening up, she called Patrick.

"Is the divorce agreement ready?"

There was a brief pause.

"I'm on a business trip. Let's discuss it when I get back."

"Fine. I'll be at work-just call me when it's time."

"You found a job already? Where?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"At a sacred werewolf artifacts restoration shop. They've been calling me for a while now."

Sacred werewolf artifacts are artifacts said to hold the power of the Moon Goddess, capable of enhancing both the physical and mental strength of the wolfpack and Alpha.

Over time, many artifacts have been lost or damaged in battles, so the ones that remain are highly sought after by powerful Alphas. This demand has given rise to a thriving market where relics are bought, sold, and restored. A shop specializing in such restoration deals exclusively with this kind of valuable business.

"Don't work too hard. If you need money, let me know," he said, his voice so soft and warm it tugged at her heart.

Rhea felt a pang and replied with a detached tone.

"I'm fine, thank you."

After breakfast, Rhea took a cab to a well-known restoration shop in New York called Timeless Treasures Antiques.

She was greeted by the young owner, John Travolta, who wore a light blue shirt and khaki pants, his tall frame exuding a clean and gentle charm.

After introducing her to the staff, John led her upstairs to meet the shop's senior appraiser, William Hurt.

"William, this is Rhea Seehorn, granddaughter of Bruce Seehorn, the 'Master of Sacred Werewolf Artifacts Restoration.' Rhea will be our new artifacts restorer. If you need a second opinion on anything, feel free to consult her."

When the Moon Goddess closed one door for elf-werewolves, she opened another. Every elf-werewolf has an innate ability to repair and appraise sacred werewolf artifacts.

Rhea, in particular, had inherited her grandfather's skills, as her wolf lineage included a mix of werewolf and silver-elf blood. Silver-elf werewolves were the most talented at sacred werewolf artifacts restoration.

William, nearing sixty, peered at Rhea through his reading glasses. A young woman in her twenties, a restorer? At her age, he was still an apprentice. Yet the young owner had placed her on such a high pedestal, even telling him to consult her!

He nodded politely, but inside, he was far from convinced.

As soon as John left, he asked, "So, Rhea, how long have you been in the business?"

Rhea smiled lightly.

"Over ten years."

William looked incredulous.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

He thought to himself, *Young and boastful! She'll have to prove herself.*

Just then, an employee came to get them, saying a customer had arrived.

Rhea and William went downstairs to find a man in his thirties holding a tattered, grimy scroll.

"Can this be restored?" he asked.

William took one look and almost laughed. It barely resembled a painting; it was blackened, torn, and filled with wormholes. Only a top-level restoration artist would have even a slim chance.

Smiling smugly, he looked at Rhea.

"Everyone's watching you-don't let them down."

Rhea stepped forward, studying the scroll intently before replying, "It can be restored."

The customer's face lit up.

"Who'll do it? How long will it take?"

"Me. Three days," she answered.

"You?" The man eyed her sceptically.

"This is an original piece by Alaric, one of the 'Four Sacred Werewolf Artifacts Masters'! It's worth millions at auction-don't mess it up."

The others in the room exchanged dubious glances. Three days? That was a bold claim.

William smirked, stroking his beard.

"Rhea, it's good to be ambitious, but don't overreach. Even top-level restorers take months, if not years, on something like this."

Rhea remained firm.

"Three days. If it's damaged, I'll pay double the market price."

The customer, hoping to sell the relic at auction, was thrilled by the offer.

"Alright, but let's put it in writing."

"Agreed."

After agreeing on a price and signing the contract, Rhea took the scroll to the restoration room.

The room held two large wooden tables, along with an assortment of restoration tools like brushes, hoof knives, towels, and wolf hair brushes.

Rhea started by boiling water and carefully washing the scroll. Each stroke was delicate; she needed to remove the grime without damaging the fragile fibres.

Though it looked easy, the process was complex. Fortunately, she had trained with her grandfather since childhood, and handling artifacts like this was second nature.

She had restored items far older and more deteriorated than this.

The next three days were a blur, with Rhea working tirelessly.

It was good to keep busy. When she worked, she could forget Patrick-at least for a little while.

On the third day, the customer returned to pick up the scroll. He was stunned by what he saw.

"Is this really the same scroll? You didn't swap it, did you?"

William and other employees gathered around, equally astonished. The scroll now depicted vivid mountains and lush forests, as though the entire landscape had come to life.

Rhea replied calmly, "You can test its authenticity."

After verification, the customer gave her a thumbs-up, paid in full, and left with the painting, clearly satisfied.

Word spread quickly. Soon, everyone in the restoration community knew of the young, talented restorer at Timeless Treasures Antiques. Only in her twenties, yet her skill rivalled that of national restoration masters!

As evening approached, Rhea received a call from Patrick.

"My car's parked outside your shop. Grandma wants to see us-

she says it's something important."

Hearing his familiar voice made Rhea's heart race painfully, her wolf stirring with longing.

Though he hadn't marked her, and they couldn't establish a mind-link, her wolf still recognized her fated mate nearby, its eagerness undeniable.

Rhea stepped outside, got into the car, and fastened her seatbelt. It had only been a few days, but Patrick looked thinner, his features even sharper than before, and his deep-set eyes more striking. It was impossible to look away.

She realized she still loved him, painfully so, and forgetting him felt impossible.

"Here," Patrick said, handing her a small, elegant, dark-blue velvet box.

"A little gift for your new job."

Rhea took it, opening the box to reveal a blue stone necklace. The stone was rare and valuable, a precious sacred werewolf artifacts material, said to ward off curses and misfortune.

She tilted her head, offering a small smile.

"This is a pretty fancy gift. Why'd you get me something so valuable?"

Patrick smiled softly, his gaze fixed on hers.

"You're working with ancient artifacts now, and some of those pieces come from tombs. This should protect you. Here, let me put it on."

As he lifted her hair to fasten the clasp, his fingers brushed the back of her neck, right where his mark was meant to go.

A tiny shiver ran through her, echoing in her chest.

She was always sensitive to his touch.

Thinking of where they stood now, she forced a polite smile. "Maybe don't give me things like this anymore."

Gifts like these made it easy to imagine he still had feelings for her. They stirred up dangerous thoughts, the kind that led to wanting more.

Patrick placed his hands on the steering wheel, his tone casual. "It's just a necklace. Don't read too much into it."

He started the car, and about thirty minutes later, they arrived at the Old Fabian Wolfpack House.

As soon as they stepped inside, Patrick's grandmother, Diane Fabian, hobbled over to them, her face lighting up as she hugged Rhea.

"Oh, my dear! I missed you so much these past few days!"

Rhea felt like Diane was being a bit over the top today.

Smiling, she asked, "Diane, you said you had something important to tell me?"

Diane took her hand and shot Patrick a pointed look.

"Let's have dinner first. We'll talk after dinner."

Dinner was extravagant-a table full of delicacies.

Diane looked at Rhea, her eyes twinkling.

"Three years ago, Patrick had that awful accident. He was in such a bad place, but thank goodness he had you, his fated mate, to help him. Since you two got married, he's healed, and our wolfpack's only grown stronger."

Then, suddenly, Diane covered her mouth, overcome by a fit of coughing.

Rhea rushed to her side, gently patting her back.

When the coughing stopped, Diane took Rhea's hand, looking at her with teary eyes.

"You've been amazing, Rhea. So calm and gentle, sticking by him no matter what. Patrick was a mess those first two years, snapping at everyone, driving out any nurse or helper we hired. But you stayed. You never left his side. If it weren't for you, he might never have made it through."

Diane's eyes filled with tears, and Rhea quickly handed her a tissue.

Patrick's grip on his fork tightened, his gaze deepening as if lost in thought.

With a small sigh, Diane said, "My only wish now is to see you and Patrick happy, with a child of your own."

Rhea felt a flush of embarrassment and glanced at Patrick.

Clearly, he hadn't told Diane they were planning to divorce.

Diane's voice grew weaker.

"I'm getting old; who knows how much longer I have? I just want to see a little one before I go."

Rhea's heart tightened, and she quickly said, "Diane, you're going to live a long, healthy life."

Diane patted her chest, breathing heavily.

"I know my body better than anyone. Eighty years old, I am. My heart's been weak for years." She struggled to her feet. "I need to lie down."

Rhea immediately went to help her to her room.

As they neared the bedroom door, Diane suddenly turned back to Patrick.

"From now on, you two will stay here. Once Rhea is pregnant, you can go back home."

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, but Diane was already shuffling into the room, her frail frame moving slowly with each step.

Rhea helped her to bed, being careful not to press too hard and risk hurting her.

Once Diane was settled, she took Rhea's hand.

"I heard you moved back in with your mother. Don't worry. As long as I'm here, there won't be any divorce. Patrick listens to me."

"But-"

"No buts. That Amy may have been there in the good times, but she left when things got tough. A person like that is not fit to be the future Luna of the Fabian Wolfpack. I've never bought into that ridiculous elf-werewolf myth. I've lived long enough to know a good girl when I see one. Our pack is strong enough; we don't need an alliance to survive."

Rhea was deeply moved by Diane's words.

Despite the progress elf-werewolves had made in society, many traditional wolfpacks still held prejudices against them. Pure-blood werewolves preferred to marry within their own kind to maintain the integrity of their bloodlines.

Patrick's father, the Alpha of the Fabian Wolfpack, Ethan Fabian, was a firm believer in these traditions. He had always looked down on Rhea and had hoped that once Patrick recovered, he would reunite with Amy, the pure-blood daughter of the Alpha of the Adams Wolfpack, who he felt was a much better match.

After Diane had fallen asleep, Rhea quietly left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Diane sat up, her energy returning in full force-quite the contrast from her earlier frail demeanour.

After dinner, Rhea and Patrick returned to the guest room.

Once the door was closed, Rhea turned to him.

"So... what now? Are we really supposed to stay here indefinitely?"

Patrick frowned, loosening his tie.

"She's not well. I don't want to upset her. We'll stay for a few days and figure it out later."

Rhea glanced back at the single bed in the room.

"There's only one bed. How are we supposed to sleep?"

Patrick's lips curved into a slight smirk.

"With our eyes closed."

She was starting to get annoyed.

"I'm serious."

Patrick casually removed his watch, setting it on the bedside table. "Go shower. I'll go after you."

"Fine."

Rhea went to the bathroom, quickly washed her face, brushed her teeth, and took a fast shower.

When she returned, Patrick went to shower. She lay in bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind spun with thoughts-about their impending divorce, about the fact that they were sharing a room and bed. It felt surreal.

Suddenly, Patrick's phone, resting on the bedside table, began to ring. Rhea ignored it; she didn't want to invade his privacy.

The call stopped after a few rings. Then her phone rang.

Glancing at the screen, she saw it was an unknown number.

She answered, and a delicate voice asked, "Rhea, is Patrick with you?"

"Who's that?"

The woman paused, then said, "I'm... a friend of his."

Rhea replied, "He's in the shower. I'll tell him to call you back."

"Thank you."

When Patrick came out, he was wrapped in a towel, drying his hair with another. His shoulders were broad, his abs chiseled, and his entire physique seemed to glow in the warm light.

Rhea's heart skipped a beat, and she could feel her cheeks warming as she quickly turned her gaze away.

"A friend of yours called."

He nodded with a simple, "Mm," and picked up his phone before walking out of the room.

When he returned, his expression was dark, his jaw clenched. "Was that on purpose?"

Rhea blinked, confused. "What?"

"Amy tried to kill herself. What did you say to her?"

Her mind went blank for a moment. Then she found her voice.

"I didn't know it was her. She just said she was a friend, so I told her you were in the shower."

Patrick's face remained cold as he opened the closet, pulling out some clothes and getting dressed.

Once ready, he strode to the door.

Diane heard the noise and came out, asking, "Where are you going in the middle of the night?"

"Amy's in the hospital. I'm going to check on her."

Diane raised her voice, calling to Rhea in the guest room.

"Rhea, go with him."

Rhea knew Diane's word was final.

"Okay," she replied, grabbing her coat and following Patrick out.

As they drove, Rhea said, "You can just drop me at a hotel."

Patrick didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Come with me. Explain to Amy what happened."

Her chest tightened, irritation bubbling up. She wasn't one to seek conflict, but she had her limits. It wasn't her fault. What was there to explain?

Sensing her frustration, Patrick reached over, ruffling her hair gently.

"She has severe depression. Please, just this once?"

An hour later, they arrived at the hospital. Amy was lying in bed, her face pale, her hair a tangled mess, her thin frame almost hidden under the blanket.

When Rhea finally saw her face, she was shocked.