Piss Off, Alpha! You Lost Me Forever

SOPHIA'S POV

I stood outside the villa for a long time. The winter wind whipped against my face, leaving it as numb as my heart. When the thermometer pressed against my forehead, I knew it was that day of the month again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sharp alarm sounded, and the brass bell hanging at the main gate was immediately rung, urgent, like a death knell.

The two wolf guards stationed by the door finally stepped aside, silent. There was no respect in their eyes for me, their Luna, only indifference and impatience. And all of this was permitted by my husband, Alpha Damien.

"Hurry inside! Your fertile window won't wait for you!"

Just as I was about to step forward, the housekeeper, Mary, rushed out first, her tone sharp and hurried, as if I were the one keeping myself outside.

To an outsider, it would look like I was a surrogate mother here to meet her client.

But the truth?

I was here to see my mate, my husband, yet every time, it was like this: confirmed by the thermometer, summoned by the bell, scolded by the housekeeper.

And my arrival truly was like that of a surrogate, fulfilling a biological contract, a mechanical transaction and nothing more. All because, as Luna, I had only given birth to a daughter in all these years, failing to produce a male heir for this pack. Even though I nearly died bringing my daughter into the world, my heart stopped multiple times on the operating table. None of it mattered.

In this werewolf society, still clinging to primal traditions, a woman's worth is measured only by her fertility. And my husband is no ordinary man, he is the Alpha, the leader of this pack. Without a male heir, Damien's position would be questioned, even challenged by other Alphas. And I, Damien's mate, forced upon him, standing in the way of him and his true love, Tiffany, if I also cost him his power, I would have no reason to exist at all. How ironic, the fate of a power I would never possess rested entirely on my shoulders.

I lowered my head, a self-mocking twist to my lips, and followed Mary step by step through the familiar yet alien hallway to Damien's door. This place I visited only once a month, this husband I saw only during my fertile window.

"Come in."

Mary's hand was just raised to knock when the voice came from inside first.

Of course. He always knew when I was coming. We were bound mates, he can always catch my scent, just as I can catch his. Only in moments like these was there any proof our mate bond still existed.

Mary withdrew her hand and stepped aside. I pushed the door open. Damien stood by the window, his back to me, broad shoulders etched in cold, hard lines by the moonlight.I closed the door behind me. He didn't turn, just issued a cold command;

"Take off your pants. Get on the bed, on your stomach."

Even though it happened like this every month-I should be used to it-I still couldn't help but flinch. Humiliation washed over me like a tide.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something.

Maybe "Hello," maybe "Can we talk first?" But before the words could form, Damien's voice grew sharper;

"Now! Or would you prefer Mary to assist you?"

My fingers curled tight.

This wasn't a threat, he would do it.

Last time I hesitated too long, he really did call in two maids. They stripped me bare right there, pressing me down onto the bed. That humiliation, I would never forget. So I clenched my jaw, walked to the bed, and began unbuttoning my clothes with trembling fingers. With each piece that fell, I felt another layer of my dignity stripped away. Finally naked, I obeyed, lying face down on the bed. Like a she-wolf in heat, not yet in human form.

There was a rustle behind me. I thought about turning, about speaking, but then a tall, heated body was already pressing down on me.

No foreplay. No tenderness. Not even a word.

He entered me, moving with rough, mechanical thrusts.

Pain and shame intertwined.

I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound, only faint whimpers escaping my throat.

I started counting in my head.

One, two, three...

It was the only way to detach myself from this mechanical transaction.

Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight.

It was over.

Damien withdrew from me. I heard the sound of him dressing. The entire time, he didn't speak a word, didn't look at me once. I pushed myself up, wrapping the thin blanket scattered by the bed around me. My voice was hoarse.

"Damien... can we talk?"

His footsteps paused for a second, but he didn't turn.

"Talk about what?" His tone was icy. "About how you still haven't conceived an heir?"

"I wanted to ask..." I heard myself say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. "Can Ashley come live with me? I haven't seen her in so long. I miss-"

"I haven't stopped you from seeing her." Damien cut me off, finally turning around.

His face was in shadow, his expression unreadable, but his amber eyes held no warmth.

"Your only task now is to get pregnant and bear an heir. Until that's done, don't ask for anything beyond your place."

"Beyond my place?! She's my daughter!" My voice cracked.

"And mine," Damien said coldly. "She doesn't need a mother drowning in self-pity."

The words sliced through me, precise and brutal. Without another glance, he walked out of the room.

Slam!

The door shut hard, rattling the entire room.

I sat alone in the darkness, wrapped in a thin blanket, like a discarded ghost. The wolf inside me was keening. She missed Ashley so much.

I could feel her pain, her despair.

As mates, we were meant to receive our partner's care and protection, but Damien gave us only indifference and humiliation. The mate bond wailed within me like a thread about to snap.

"It's okay," I whispered to my wolf. "It'll get better."

But I didn't even believe it myself.

I had to do something to soothe her, to soothe myself. Even if it was just a hollow comfort.

It took a long time before I reached for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers moved mechanically, swiping and tapping open the Instagram profile I checked every month-Not Damien's. Tiffany's.

Because Damien's account was private, visible only to the pack, I had long been removed from his followers.

How pathetic.

I had to rely on another woman's social media to catch a glimpse of my own husband alive and real.

But even so, I kept looking.

Call it aftercare. A hollow comfort.

For that, I could even ignore the stinging comments. I could pretend those bright smiles were meant for me, pretend that gentle Damien still existed, pretend I still mattered in his life. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never overlook the woman beside him.

Tiffany, radiant in a silver gown under the flashbulbs. And the joy on Damien's face, something I had never seen before.

They walked the red carpet hand in hand, fingers laced, smiling as naturally as a real couple.

Even through photos, I could sense the resonance between them. That kind of harmony, that chemistry, it was something Damien and I never had.

"OMG, you two are perfect together! Tiffany, you're the one who truly suits Alpha Damien! You should be our Luna!"

"Yeah, Sophia is so outdated."

Those comments couldn't hurt me anymore-not until:

"Rumor has it Ashley isn't even Sophia's child."

The replies were worse.

"Right?! I noticed it too! At the last gala, Ashley clung to Tiffany the whole time and barely even looked at Sophia."

"Could Tiffany actually be Ashley's mother? Maybe the Alpha only let Sophia be the nominal mother for political reasons!"

"That would explain it! No wonder she hasn't been able to bear an heir all these years!"

My hands trembled.

They didn't know. They knew nothing.

That night, I lay on the operating table, bleeding heavily. The doctors declared my condition critical. Since I was carrying a "useless" girl, they advised terminating the pregnancy to save my life. But I refused.

I insisted on giving birth to my daughter. Even if no one in this world welcomed her, I loved her-with all my life.

I still remember hearing Ashley's first cry and smiling weakly, feeling it was all worth it. But now they said she might not be mine. That another woman could be her mother. How could they?!

Just then, the sound of suitcase wheels and footsteps echoed from outside the door.

My wolf hearing caught it clearly.

One of them belonged to Damien. He was leaving again. Going to Tiffany.

I had no time left. This was my only chance for the month.

I could endure everything. His indifference, the monthly humiliation, the vicious words online. But I could not endure anyone slandering the bond between my daughter and me.

I ignored the rules, ignored that this room was only mine for one hour each month. I grabbed the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around myself, and rushed out barefoot.

The hallway was dark. My bare feet met the cold marble floor as I hurried down the stairs. Too fast. I slipped, nearly tumbling down the steps. I grabbed the railing to steady myself, heart hammering.

Just as I was about to step out of the dark stairwell, a familiar voice drifted up from the foyer below.

"Where are you going so late?"

It was Helen, Damien's mother.

She never liked me. Instinctively, I stopped, shrinking back into the shadow of the landing.

"Mother, I'm running late. Tiffany needs me."

Damien's voice held a tenderness and urgency I had never heard.

"At this hour?" His mother's tone wasn't disapproving, it was understanding. "And Sophia? Isn't today-"

"It's done." Damien cut her off, impatient.

A silence fell. I could hear my own heartbeat, loud in the still corridor.

"Damien," Helen began again, her voice taking on a calculating edge. "If you ask me, you shouldn't pin your hopes on Sophia any longer. Tiffany should bear your heir."

I clutched the blanket tighter, nails digging into my palms.

"Mother." Damien sounded hesitant.

I strained to listen, waiting for his response. I thought he might at least say it was the Moon Goddess's will, or that it was for Ashley's sake. But what he said was, "It's too dangerous, Mother."

I froze.

What?

I almost thought I'd misheard.

But the cruel words came again, clear as ice.

"Pregnancy takes a toll. Childbirth is life-threatening. I can't let her take that risk."

What a devoted declaration. And it was my mate, saying it for another woman.

I pressed my hands over my mouth, forcing my wolf down, silencing even my breath. I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

"Ha!" Helen laughed, the sound full of approval. "You're right. Someone as perfect as Tiffany shouldn't be risked."

She paused, and her voice turned icy. "That useless Sophia is different. Best if she gives you a son and then just. dies. She's a waste of resources anyway."

I never knew a conversation so horrifying, so vicious, could sink even lower.

Die.

They wanted me dead.

So Tiffany could rightfully take my place as Luna of this pack, as my husband's wife, as my child's mother.

Ouch.

The wolf inside me let out a mournful, despairing howl. I couldn't hear anything else they said. Then came the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs.

I pressed myself against the wall, holding still until the steps faded completely.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me.

I covered my mouth and ran back upstairs barefoot, rushing into my room and slamming the bathroom door behind me.

I dropped to my knees before the toilet, retching violently. My stomach was empty; all that came up was bitter bile and despair.

When it was over, I slumped on the cold tile floor, back against the wall, tears falling silently.

Ten years.

A whole decade, living here like a ghost. I thought if I was obedient enough, if I could just produce an heir, things would get better.

But they wanted me dead.

I started to laugh, a hollow, broken sound that echoed in the bathroom like sobbing.

Enough.

I wiped my tears and pushed myself up.

The woman in the mirror was pale, eyes swollen, but in those eyes-finally-there was a light.

The light of resolution.

I refuse to be a breeding machine any longer. I refuse to endure this humiliation. I refuse to cling to a hope that never existed.

I want a divorce. I want the bond severed. I want to take Ashley and leave this place far behind.

Even if the whole world opposes it. Even if pack law forbids it. Even if it means stripping me of my title as Luna, I will leave.

SOPHIA'S POV

THREE DAYS LATER

I stood before the bathroom sink, staring at three pregnancy tests.

Two lines. Two lines. Two lines.

Each one clearly displayed the same result.

Pregnant.

I was actually pregnant.

My trembling fingers picked up the first stick, then the second, then the third. I checked them over and over, hoping I was mistaken, but reality offered no escape.

How could this be? I had just resolved to leave, hadn't even begun to make arrangements, and fate played this cruel joke.

What was I supposed to do?

This child shouldn't exist. Not now. Not at the very moment I decided to escape.

My hand drifted to my lower abdomen. It was still flat, but I knew a new life was quietly taking root. If it was a son, I'd be forced to stay, only to die in some "unfortunate accident" after childbirth, clearing the way for Tiffany to take over.

If it was a daughter, I'd become a laughingstock once more-the failure who "produced two useless girls in a row."

Either way, this child would be my cage.

"Sophia!"

Helen's shrill voice cut through the door.

I snapped back to the present, frantically shoving all three tests into my coat pocket. My heart hammered against my ribs, my palms were slick with cold sweat.

Bang!

The door was thrown open violently.

Helen stormed in like a hurricane, the head housekeeper and two maids trailing behind her. Her face was alight with impatience, her eyes gleaming with a sick excitement.

"Well?"

Everyone knew this was the time of the month for the test.

The housekeeper knew. The maids knew. The cook probably knew. Even the pack's young pups likely knew.

My cycle, my ovulation, my fertile window-these intimate details were public knowledge within the pack. No one had ever considered my privacy. Not even my past self.

I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. "I-"

Before my prepared excuse could leave my lips, she shoved me aside and marched straight to the sink, snatching up the test strip I'd left there. She held it close to her eyes.

The next second-

Smack!

"Nothing again?!" She hurled the stick onto the marble floor, where it shattered into pieces.

"What good are you?!"

I watched her rage in silence.

"Do you think silence is enough? Ten years! A full decade!" Helen's voice climbed higher, sharper. "What have you brought this family besides one useless girl? Do you know what the pack says about you?"

"No, but I'm sure you're eager to tell me," I replied calmly.

Helen faltered, clearly taken aback by my response.

"They say you're barren," she spat venomously. "That you're a curse. That because of you, Damien's authority is undermined! He should have rejected you from the start! He should have married Tiffany!"

"Then perhaps they're right," I said, lifting my head to meet her gaze.

The air in the room froze.

"What?" Helen's voice became a shriek.

"I said, perhaps they're right. Perhaps I am a curse," I repeated, each word deliberate. I took two steps forward, my face shadowed. "So, it's best you don't provoke me. Or you'll learn the consequences."

The two maids gasped in horror. The housekeeper's face paled. Helen's face flushed crimson. She pointed a trembling finger at me, speechless with rage.

"You... you..."

Ignoring her stammering, I continued, "And I know you prefer Tiffany. Damien loves her more. I'll be leaving soon. Let her bear your heir."

"That is your duty! Not hers!" Helen roared. "The Moon Goddess matched you with Damien! It is your obligation to bear his children! You will keep bearing them until you produce a son!"

"The Moon Goddess?" I laughed, the sound dripping with bitterness. "The Moon Goddess commands me to breed but grants me no real marriage? Makes me Luna but denies me basic respect? What kind of deity is that?"

"Silence! How dare you blaspheme!"

Crack!

A sharp slap landed across my face.

Pain exploded from my cheek. My head snapped to the side, ears ringing. I could even taste blood in the corner of my mouth.

"You ungrateful wretch!" Helen's voice shook. "It was my son who gave you the title of Luna! Who gave you status and wealth! And you dare complain!"

Slowly, I turned my head back, running my tongue over the cut on my lip.

Ten years. How many times had I been struck in these ten years? I'd lost count.

Every single time, I'd bowed my head, apologized, endured, told myself everything would be fine once I produced an heir. But not this time. I wouldn't endure it anymore.

I raised my hand.

This time, I would fight back.

"Sophia!"

A hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, the grip so tight it hurt.

Damien stood there, having appeared out of nowhere. His Alpha presence instantly dominated the room.

Everyone bowed their heads, holding their breath.

If this were the old me, I would have done the same. But the me now no longer cared.

"Let go of me," I said coldly.

"Have you lost your mind?" Damien stared at me, his gaze icy. "Raising a hand against Mother?"

"She hit me first!" I pointed to my swollen cheek. "Are you blind?"

Damien's eyes flickered over my face, lingering on the vivid handprint for less than a second before moving away.

"You disrespected her first," he stated flatly.

I froze.

That sentence proved it. He had seen Helen strike me. And he didn't care.

"Apologize to Mother," he commanded.

"Why should I?"

"Because she is an elder. The former Luna," Damien's tone was one of simple fact. "You will show respect."

"And what about me?" I heard my voice tremble. "I am the current Luna. Who respects me?"

Damien frowned, as if the question were absurd.

"Sophia, don't be difficult."

He released my wrist. His gaze dropped to the shattered pregnancy test on the floor.

A flicker of disappointment and disgust passed through his eyes. The look one gives a defective product, a failed investment. But he said nothing.

He stepped past me toward the housekeeper standing by the door. He took an insulated food carrier from him.

"Is it ready?"

"Yes, Alpha," the housekeeper replied respectfully. "All Miss Tiffany's favorite French dishes."

So that was it. That was why he'd come back.

Not for the test results. Not even for pack business.

He'd returned to fetch Tiffany's favorite meal.

If Helen didn't also favor this chef's cooking, and a replacement couldn't be found, I had no doubt Damien would have taken our personal chef with him, just so Tiffany could have the finest food every day.

I stood there, watching him carefully cradle the carrier, a trace of softness even touching his lips.

How long had it been since I'd seen that softness?

Five years? Ten?

I couldn't even remember.

"Damien..." Helen began.

"Mother, I must go. Tiffany is waiting," Damien cut her off, turning to leave.

"Damien," I called out.

He turned back impatiently. "What now?"

"We should sever the bond. I want a divorce."

When I said it, everything felt calmer than I'd imagined.

The air in the room solidified.

The housekeeper stood rigid. The two maids gasped into their hands. Helen's face drained of color.

Damien turned fully, his eyes fixed on me. There was no shock in his gaze, only annoyance.

"A new game? I don't have time for this," he said, as if dealing with a minor nuisance. "Tiffany is hungry. She's waiting for me."

And with that, he actually left.

His footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the sound of the door opening, closing, and a car engine starting.

He was gone.

I asked for a divorce, and he said, "Tiffany is hungry."

Our ten-year marriage weighed less than one of Tiffany's meals.

I stood rooted to the spot, and suddenly, I began to laugh.

The sound echoed in the silent room, bordering on hysterical.

"Have you gone mad?" Helen stared at me. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at my own stupidity," I said, wiping nonexistent tears from the corner of my eye. "Ten years' worth of stupidity."

I turned and walked toward the door.

"You stop right there!" Helen shouted after me. "I did not dismiss you!"

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't stand another second in that room. I couldn't bear to see Helen's contorted face, or breathe that suffocating air any longer.

I was leaving.

No longer waiting for Damien's permission. No longer heeding Helen's commands. No longer bound by pack law.

I would take Ashley. I would take the child in my womb. And I would leave this place forever.

I pushed open the door to the study.

This was where Damien handled pack affairs, typically heavily guarded, but now it stood empty. He'd been in such a hurry to reach Tiffany that he hadn't even locked it.

I walked straight to his desk and pulled open a drawer.

Our marriage certificate, asset portfolios, pack accounting ledgers-all meticulously filed and organized. Damien was always thorough, precise.

I took out the documents I needed and spread them on the desk. Then I turned on the computer and began drafting the divorce petition.

Assets. Custody. Terms.

I listed them one by one, each clause born from a decade of humiliation and quiet fury.

Finally, at the end, I added one more line:

[This agreement shall take effect immediately upon signing. No revocation permitted.]

With the final word typed, I took a deep breath and hit print.

The printer hummed softly, spitting out page after page. I gathered them, collated the documents, and slid them into a folder.

Now, I needed to find Ashley.

My daughter. The daughter I hadn't seen for so long.

It had been three months since Damien moved her to his private residence. He said the environment there was better for nurturing a future Alpha female, that my quarters were too oppressive, that I would hinder her growth.But I knew the real reason. He wanted to keep Ashley away from me. To give Tiffany more chances to get close, to replace me in my daughter's heart.

I tucked the folder under my arm, stood up, and took one last look around the room.

This room I was never permitted to enter. This room that symbolized Damien's power and status. This room that once filled me with awe.

Now, I only felt the urgent need to leave.

I was going to see my daughter. To tell her we were leaving.

We were starting a new life.

SOPHIA'S POV

I left the main house.

My wolf stirred restlessly in my chest, but my steps were firm. I refused to look back at that cold, imposing structure.

When I arrived at Damien's private residence-Ashley's current home-and stepped inside, her scent enveloped me immediately. A hint of milk and lavender, the shampoo I used to choose for her.

I hurried upstairs and pushed open her bedroom door.

She was sitting at her craft table, drawing. She looked up at the sound.

"Ashley!"

I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms. My daughter. The child I nearly died to bring into this world. I couldn't help but press a flurry of kisses to her cheek. Her scent was the only pure thing left in my life. I had missed her so much.

"Mom, that's gross." She wrinkled her little nose, wiping her cheek.

I smiled, though the comment stung. "I'm sorry, baby. I've just missed you so much."

She just shrugged, as if my longing were unnecessary, as if the months apart meant nothing.

My wolf whimpered low inside-a pup should crave her mother's scent, her warmth, her closeness. But Ashley simply sat back down and resumed sorting her crayons.

"How have you been?" I sat beside her. "Did you sleep well last night? Are you eating enough? You-"

"Mom." She cut me off, not even looking up. "I want to go to East Street Preschool. Aunt Tiffany says it's the best."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Aunt Tiffany.

She said it so casually, so familiarly, as if... as if that woman were the one closest to her.

"If you want to go, I'll enroll you," I said, forcing a smile.

Ashley nodded, but showed no excitement. She didn't even smile at me.

I took a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully.

"Sweetheart... Mom was thinking... would you like to move back and live with me?"

I couldn't bring myself to be direct yet, not ready to tell her we were leaving this place for good.

She finally looked up at me, confusion in her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because..." My voice trembled. "Because I miss you. I want to see you every day. I want to read you bedtime stories, have breakfast with you..."

"But Aunt Tiffany reads to me," Ashley said. "Her stories are way better than yours."

Each word was a knife, precise and cruel.

"And," she continued, a hint of disdain in her tone, "you're always crying and sad when you come. Aunt Tiffany says it's because you're not well."

"Ashley..."

"Aunt Tiffany never cries," she interrupted. "She's strong. She says I have to be strong too, not weak like you."

Every syllable was a laceration. My wolf flinched violently, a growl rumbling deep in my consciousness. Tiffany had been poisoning my child, twisting her perception of me.

"Baby, that's not true," I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "Mom isn't weak. Mom is just..."

"Aunt Tiffany says you're afraid to have babies, that's why you won't give me a brother." Ashley's gaze turned cold. "She says you're selfish."

I froze.

"I'm not afraid." My voice shook. "Ashley, when I had you, I almost died. But I never regretted it for a second. I-"

"Aunt Tiffany says that's because you're fragile," Ashley cut in again. "But she says she's strong. She can give Dad a brother. She says if Dad marries her, I could have a brother."

My hands clenched into fists.

"Ashley, listen to me-"

Her smartwatch lit up. Tiffany's name flashed on the screen. Her eyes immediately brightened with an excitement I had never seen directed at me.

"It's Aunt Tiffany!" she cheered.

I reached for the watch. "Ashley, we're not finished talking-"

"It's important!" She clutched the watch to her chest, looking at me with a hostility that was almost alien.

I recoiled.

That look, that posture... as if I were a stranger trying to hurt her.

"Fine," I forced myself to stand. "You have five minutes."

I walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. Leaning against the hallway wall, I took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside me. But the pregnancy had heightened my hearing. My wolf senses, already sharp, were now nearly uncontrollable. Even through the door, I could hear Ashley's voice with perfect clarity.

"Aunt Tiffany, I miss you so much..."

My breath hitched.

"I want to hear the bedtime story you tell..."

"I like your hugs better..."

"Mommy said she might have a baby. But Aunt Tiffany, I don't want Mommy to have one. She said it hurts. You should have the baby instead, okay?"

My wolf convulsed as if kicked in the ribs. A hand flew to my mouth. I slid down the wall, sinking to my knees on the floor. Tears welled up, too fast to stop.

Ashley saw Tiffany as her mother.

Not me. Not the one who carried her for nine months, fought for her, nearly died for her.

Tiffany had taken my husband. Now she was taking my child.

My fingers pressed hard against my lower abdomen. The wolf within me whimpered, sharing my grief.

A suffocating feeling rose. I pushed myself up, staggering toward the balcony. I needed air. I needed to breathe.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Damien.

He rejected the call.

I dialed again.

Rejected again.

A third time.

This time, he answered, his voice thick with annoyance.

"What is it, Sophia? I told you-"

"You need to come home. Now," I cut him off, my voice so cold it surprised even me. "It's about Ashley. This can't wait."

"I'm in a meeting. This can-"

"If you don't come," I interrupted again, enunciating each word, "I swear I will walk right up to the reporters outside your office and give them a front-row view of the father and Alpha you really are."

Silence.

Then, a low growl. "I'm on my way."

I hung up.

Standing by the window, I watched the driveway, my heart pounding.

Minutes later, a sleek black luxury car pulled in. I expected Damien to get out alone. But Tiffany stepped out of the passenger side first. She was holding Damien's arm, carrying herself like she already owned the place. Like she was the Luna of this pack.

My wolf bared its fangs.

This was deliberate. She knew I was here. She wanted me to see.

"Aunt Tiffany!"

Ashley's shriek came from downstairs. Before I could react, she had burst out of the house and thrown herself into Tiffany's arms.

The sheer joy, the unbridled delight on her face-it was something I had never seen directed at me.

Tiffany lifted her easily. Over Ashley's shoulder, her eyes met mine, a smile of pure victory curling her lips.

Something inside me snapped.

I rushed downstairs, striding toward them. "Put my daughter down."

"She came to me," Tiffany said sweetly, gently patting Ashley's back. "What was I supposed to do? Reject a child's affection?"

"You have no right to touch her!" My voice shook. "She is my daughter. Not yours!"

"Sophia, calm down," Damien finally spoke, his tone dripping with impatience.

"Calm down?" I whirled to face him, staring in disbelief. "You want me to calm down? Look at what she's doing! She's holding my child in front of me, and Ashley-"

"Ashley likes her," Damien stated coldly. "What's the problem?"

"The problem?" A hysterical laugh nearly escaped me. "The problem is she's replacing me! She's making Ashley believe she's the mother!"

"Perhaps," Damien's icy gaze locked on me, "perhaps she would be a better one."