Alpha, You Signed the Divorce, Don’t Cry Now

Kristine's POV

Murmurs erupted like wildfire across the room. Gasps. Whispers. Judging eyes.

How could a servant speak that way to an Alpha—especially Alpha Hunter?

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. “What did you just say?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but I could hear the rage bubbling beneath it.

Everyone respected him for his strength, his power, his ruthless dominance.

No one dared to cross him. Because crossing Hunter meant living in hell.

But I already lived through hell.

Every moment I spent beneath his shadow—unloved, unseen, unloved—taught me that. All I believed about love, he shattered. And now, I had nothing left to believe in.

“I said, I don’t want to be your servant anymore,” I repeated, steady and firm.

A few people looked at me like I’d signed my death sentence. Maybe I had.

Hunter smiled. That cold, sharp smile that never reached his eyes.

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t have the right to walk away.”

Ellena, of course, had to insert herself.

“Kris, you need to think carefully about what you’re saying,” she said sweetly. “You could be punished by Alpha Hunter for this.”

My eyes burned as I stared at them. At her.

Then at him.

At the mother who stood off to the side, saying nothing. No defense. No words. Just cold silence.

I swallowed hard. Pressed my lips together.

Then smiled. Wide.

“A servant? I’m done with that lie. I’m done lowering myself just to be seen. I don’t deserve this treatment not from you, not from any of you.”

Gasps again. My parents looked horrified.

Finally, emotion from them.

“Let’s talk about this privately,” my father said, stepping in. “This is not the place.... especially not during my birthday celebration.”

My father.

How strange those words felt on my tongue.

Because he never treated me like his daughter. None of them ever did.

“You’re right, Alpha Luther,” Hunter replied, eyes shifting to him.

My mother raised her voice, announcing some surprise to distract the crowd. The guests' attention moved, but mine didn’t.

“My decision is final,” I said. “I refuse to live beneath you all. I am not a thing to step so low. I am done.”

I turned to leave but Hunter grabbed my arm.

“You can’t say that. Are you planning to tell them the truth?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

I calmly pulled his hand off my arm and stared him dead in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t plan on telling anyone anything… if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Then I walked away. He called after me. “We’re not done, Kristine!”

“Let her go, Alpha,” Ellena said from behind. “She’s probably just upset you never came home.”

I ignored them both as I passed through the hall doors.

The cold night air kissed my skin like a long-lost friend.

I breathed it in. Freedom.

I looked around and knew... I wouldn’t miss this place.

Not the people.

Not the pain.

A weight lifted off me.

No more bowing my head.

No more begging.

No more trying to be loved by people who had none to give.

I heard her voice behind me.

“Kristine.”

I stopped. Turned around to my mother.

The one whose face I shared—the copper-blonde hair, the same eyes.

And yet… no warmth. Only cold rejection.

I didn’t say anything.

Once, I would’ve looked at her with longing.

Now?

That longing was gone.

She stopped in front of me without words she slapped me.

The sting was sharp, but I didn’t flinch. I taste the metallic in my mouth.

“How dare you try to ruin your father’s celebration!” she snapped.

Then I sighed.

“Are you satisfied now? Will you punish me next?”

She froze.

Maybe she saw it—

The absence of tears.

The silence of a broken wolf.

No pleading.

No apologizing.

Just… nothing.

“You’re just like Timothy,” she spat. “He raised you to be a liar. Evil, like him.”

Uncle Timothy.

The man who actually loved me. He cared for me like I was his own. He told me he was sorry. That he regretted switching me.

I forgive him because I truly now understand how he live a life of false accusation that no one believe him even at his death. I long to be on his last day but they wouldn’t let me attend to his funeral.

“You may be my daughter,” she said bitterly, “but he poisoned you. I don’t know how to fix you.”

Fix me?

I almost laughed.

“Fix?” I echoed quietly.

Then I turned away.

“I don’t want to see any of you again.”

She called after me, but I shifted.

Let the pain pour into my paws, my speed, my sprint. And I ran. Tears stinging my eyes.

I did not deserve any of this.

And I would never forgive them.

Not in this life.

Not in the next.