After My Alpha Rejected Me for His Mistress

The elevator ascended silently to the top floor of the Manhattan skyscraper. My new home—a sprawling penthouse that spanned the entire floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Central Park. The real estate agent had practically bowed as she handed me the keys, her eyes wide with the knowledge of who—or rather, what—I now was.

"Ms. Simmons, the previous owner left everything as is. The furniture, the art, the wine cellar... all yours."

I stepped into the foyer, my footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Three hundred million dollars. The number still felt surreal, even as I stood in the physical manifestation of my newfound wealth.

"Your things have arrived," Mylo said, gesturing to several designer luggage bags. "The stylists will be here in an hour."

I nodded, running my fingers along a pristine white leather sofa. "Thank you, Mylo."

"Don't thank me. Thank your ancestors for having the foresight to hold onto that land."

After he left, I wandered through the penthouse, taking inventory of my new life. The master bedroom was larger than my entire quarters at the packhouse. The walk-in closet stood empty, waiting for the transformation that was about to begin.

When the stylists arrived, they brought racks of designer clothing—Armani, Chanel, Versace—all in my size. I stood motionless as they fluttered around me, pinning hems and adjusting shoulders.

"The navy blue washes you out," one declared, tossing aside the dress I'd worn to the anniversary gala. "We need colors that command attention."

I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger—her eyes hollow, her posture defeated. But something flickered beneath the surface, a spark of silver in her irises.

"Can you recommend a good corporate lawyer?" I asked suddenly.

The stylist paused. "Corporate lawyer?"

"Yes. I need to understand how to protect assets."

That night, as the Manhattan skyline glittered beyond my windows, I sat at a sleek glass desk with stacks of legal documents and my private journal open before me. My pen moved steadily across the page as I listed every slight, every betrayal, every moment when Christian and Blake had diminished me.

"Systematic revenge requires systematic planning," I murmured to myself.

I reached for the corporate law textbook, my finger tracing the words as I absorbed them. My wolf stirred within me, her presence growing stronger each day. I could feel her approval as I studied, as if she'd been waiting decades for this moment.

---

Two weeks later, I sat across from Mylo at Le Bernardin, one of Manhattan's most exclusive restaurants. The maître d' had seated us immediately, his eyes widening at my name.

"The Silverfang Pack is in quite the uproar," Mylo said quietly, sipping his wine. "Christian's been asking questions about you. About your whereabouts."

I cut into my wagyu beef with precision. "Let him ask."

"He's desperate, Grace. The pack's finances aren't what they appear to be."

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know this?"

"Please. I'm a real estate developer. I hear things." He leaned forward. "Christian's been borrowing money. Dangerous people."

Before I could respond, a commotion erupted at the entrance. My wolf sensed him before I saw him—Christian's scent, once so familiar, now carried the sour notes of desperation and rage.

He stormed toward our table, his Alpha aura pulsing aggressively. Several diners gasped as he passed, sensing the supernatural power even if they couldn't identify its source.

"Grace," he snarled, reaching for my arm.

I remained seated, my expression calm as I took another sip of wine.

"You need to come back to the packhouse. Now." His Alpha tone vibrated through the air, a command meant to compel obedience.

I set down my glass. "Or what?"

His eyes widened slightly at my resistance. "That money belongs to the pack. It's pack assets."

"Pack assets?" I repeated, my voice soft but carrying. "I was your mate for thirty years. I gave you everything—my strength, my wolf's power, my youth. And you threw me away like garbage."

"You're still my—" he began.

"I am nothing to you," I interrupted, rising slowly from my seat. "You made that perfectly clear when you rejected me."

Something shifted in the air around us. My Luna aura unfurled like silver wings, expanding outward until it collided with Christian's Alpha power. The restaurant fell silent as the supernatural energy crackled between us.

"You will surrender those funds," Christian growled, his Alpha tone intensifying. "As your former Alpha, I command—"

"Former," I emphasized, letting my Luna aura press against him. "You have no authority over me anymore."

His wolf responded instinctively to my power, a primal recognition of a superior force. I watched as his eyes flashed with shock, then fear, as his dark-furred wolf whimpered and lowered its head in submission.

The mighty Alpha Christian Hawkins, brought to his knees by the woman he'd discarded.

Without another word, I gathered my purse and walked past him, my heels clicking confidently on the marble floor.

Behind me, I heard him call my name, his voice breaking on the syllables.

I didn't look back.