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Ditched! The Alpha's Secretary Ain't His Puppy No More Novel Cover

Ditched! The Alpha's Secretary Ain't His Puppy No More

For years, Alexa served as the loyal secretary to Peter Riegert, an alpha wolf who ultimately betrayed her for his fated mate, Emma. After enduring physical pain and public mockery, Alexa escapes to the Southern Hemisphere to rebuild her life. A regretful Peter eventually tracks her down with desperate offers of wealth and marriage, but she refuses him. While Peter remains alone with his guilt, Alexa finds true peace by starting a family of her own.
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Chapter 3

Peter's gaze landed on me, not on my wounds, but on Emma's fake tears.

"You've worked for me Five years," he growled, "and you still can't serve a she-wolf properly?"

My wolf howled in my chest, demanding I shift, demanding I rip out his throat.

But I just looked up, blood dripping from my brow. "Yes, alpha."

As he carried Emma away, her laughter trailed behind.

I stayed on the floor, the taste of blood and coffee bitter on my tongue.

My wounds itched, already knitting-thanks to the wolf blood in me.

But the real damage wasn't physical.

He'd chosen mate.

And I? I was just the half-blood secretary.

The office whispered around me, but I didn't care.

As Peter carried her away, my nails dug into the tile. Hot tears spilled,.

Colleagues laced with pity-sidled up.

"I heard Miss Brown ask for ice," one whispered.

"Why turn on you?"

Another snorted, her eyes flashing gold.

"She's an alpha's mate now. Can't you smell the claim on her? "

Once, Peter had bared his fangs at a rival alpha who'd snapped at me.

Now, he tossed me to the wolves for Emma's whim.

That night, his call came as I peeled off blood-stained clothes.

"Bring sugar and medicine" he ordered, his voice a low growl.

At his villa, the air reeked of Emma's scent.

The willow tree I'd loved was gone, replaced by sunflowers-Emma's favorite.

In the doorway, Peter's gaze flicked to my forehead wound, his pupils dilating.

"Why didn't you heal?"

I shake my head.

He pressed a card into my palm, his touch colder than usual.

"Emma's just. . Take this, get patched up. Her welcome here needs your touch."

Inside, Emma's whine cut through the door: "Peter, my cramps-"

"Coming, love." His voice melted, the alpha's edge gone.

I stood in the snow, laughing softly.

When I'd collapsed from heat cramps, he'd sent an assistant.

Now, Emma got his full moon. My wolf howled in my chest.

Three days to plan the banquet. Emma's demands were savage: rare orchids that only bloom under full moons, desserts laced with wolfsbane honey. I ran from florist to bakery, my wolf growling at the injustice, at the way Emma's scent clung to every detail.

As I arranged moonlit lilies, my phone buzzed.

It was Madeline"How's my bro treating you? Tell him to stop being a jerk!"

I deleted the message, staring at the flowers.

They smelled like the night Peter first kissed me-wild, dangerous, gone too soon.

The banquet hall smelled of champagne, but under it all-Emma's sickly-sweet lavender, Peter's cedar musk.

I lingered in the shadows, watching her float through the crowd, diamonds dripping from her ears like frozen tears.

"Miss Brown, you glow like the full moon!" a beta fawned.

"Alpha's welcome feast is legendary."

Another laughed, too loudly: "Remember when that wolf tried to court Emma? Alpha Peter him banished from the pack lands!"

Their words were silver bullets, piercing my already bleeding heart.

Across the room, Peter knelt to adjust Emma's gown, his fingers brushing her ankle-a gesture he'd never shown me, not in Five years.

His alpha aura rolled off him in waves, thick with adoration for her.

Emma's gaze met mine, her smile a snarl.

She glided over, heels clicking like a predator's claws.

She purred, pinching my chin. "My dress is filthy. Hold it."

I bowed my head, nails digging into my palms.

"I'll have them laid-"

"Did I ask for excuses?"

Her scent spiked with aggression. Peter materialized at her side.

"Problem, love?" he rumbled, nuzzling her neck.

"She won't hold my train," Emma pouted, pressing into him.

"Still sore about the coffee, I suppose."

Peter's eyes met mine, cold as winter.

"It's your job, Alexa. Five years, and you still can't serve properly?"

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