He Made Me Invisible, I Made Him Irrelevant

On the night of my thirtieth birthday, my husband, Alexander Blackwood, Alpha of Silver Crest pack brought his pregnant mistress home.

With cold detachment, he listed his demands.

"Victoria gets migraines from strong scents. Burn all your clothes. I can smell your cheap perfume in the fabric."

"She's been having anxiety attacks since the pregnancy. From now on, you'll sleep in the basement storage room so she can have our bedroom."

Without uttering a word, I picked up the small bag I had hidden behind the coatrack and headed for the door.

Our elderly butler, who'd practically raised me after my parents died, tried to stop me with tears in his eyes, but Alexander merely laughed.

"Let her go with her pathetic little act. She has nowhere else to go. I've made sure of that."

Right then, Victoria smirked and whispered something in Alexander's ear. He nodded with a cruel smile spreading across his face.

"Actually, before you leave, entertain us. Get on your knees and beg Victoria's forgiveness for being such a disappointment. If you do it convincingly enough, I might allow you to stay in the gardener's shed instead of the basement."

The room filled with their mocking laughter as his security team formed a circle around me, recording with their phones, ready to humiliate me online if I refused.

What they didn't know was that the last of my inheritance money had purchased a one-way ticket out of this nightmare.

This time, I wouldn't be coming back.

——

Just as I reached the front gate, Alexander's voice cut through the night air.

"Lauren, give Victoria your medication. Her morning sickness is worse than your 'supposed heart condition."

My body went rigid with shock.

That medication was keeping me alive—the only treatment that worked for my rare condition after three years of searching for a viable option.

When I turned to face him, Alexander noticed my trembling hands but showed no compassion.

"What do you need it for anyway?" he asked coldly. "You've been faking symptoms for attention again, haven't you?"

How could he say that when just last week, I had collapsed in the bathroom, coughing up blood while he stood over me, photographing my suffering to document my theatrics as he called it?

With unsteady fingers, I removed the pill box from my purse and placed it in Victoria's outstretched hand.

"Take them with food," I whispered. "They're strong."

Victoria clutched the pills to her chest like a treasure, while Alexander's expression softened as he looked at her.

"See? Lauren's finally being useful. In return, I'll allow you to keep the only photo of your deceased brother. The rest I'll burn tonight."

The moment he mentioned my brother, my knees nearly gave out. The photo was all I had left of him after Alexander's lawyers blocked me from even attending his funeral.

Victoria suddenly stood up with a glass of red wine in hand, and deliberately poured it over my white birthday dress—the last gift my parents had given me before they died. Then she fell on it and moaned dramatically.

Alexander immediately lifted her into his arms, cradling her like precious porcelain.

"Call the Healer immediately!" he barked at the housekeeper. "And get her some water!"

The urgency in his voice made everyone look at me with contempt, as if I'd somehow caused her discomfort.

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly inside.

Three days ago, when I had a severe allergic reaction because someone had deliberately filled my moisturizer with peanut oil—I'd begged Alexander to take me to the healer as my throat closed up. Instead, he locked me in the bathroom, telling the staff I was "having another episode" and needed to "calm down alone."

I was found unconscious hours later by the new gardener, who thankfully had medical training.

When I returned from the healer, Alexander had the gardener fired for "trespassing" in the main house.

Clutching my bag tighter, I turned to leave once more.

But Alexander's hand shot out, grabbing my hair and yanking me backward so hard I heard strands ripping from my scalp.

"Where do you think you're going? Victoria isn't feeling well because of the stress you've caused."

"I didn't—"

His open palm connected with my face before I could finish, the force sending me sprawling across the marble floor.

"Kiss her feet. Three times. Now."

My lip split from the impact, blood dripping onto the remains of my white dress.

Victoria stood over me, one hand protectively over her stomach, the other holding my medication hostage. She extended her foot, the expensive designer shoe inches from my bleeding mouth.

"Look what you've done," Alexander snarled. "You've upset her again with your selfishness. Kiss her feet and be grateful she's allowing you to do so."

Since becoming Alexander's mate, degrading myself had become as natural as breathing.

I kissed the floor when his dinner wasn't hot enough, even though he came home three hours late.

I spent the night in the dog kennel when I interrupted his call to tell him I'd found hotel receipts with Victoria's name.

I wrote a fifty-page essay on my worthlessness when he broke my finger for accidentally using his favorite coffee mug.

I even thanked him last month when I found him in our bed with Victoria, as if his betrayal was a gift I should cherish.

With blood filling my mouth and my vision blurring, I forced myself forward.

Lowering my face to her shoe, I placed my bleeding lips against the leather once, twice, then a third time, leaving blood marks as they recorded the entire humiliation.

Then I looked up at Alexander with eyes devoid of everything except resignation.

"Is that enough?" I whispered.

His nostrils flared as he noticed the blood pooling beneath my face.

"Lauren," he sneered, grabbing my chin roughly, "Your grandfather is dead, and I own everything he left you. Your tears won't work on me anymore. Who exactly are you trying to impress with this victim act?"

Before I could respond, the healer arrived—Alexander's personal physician who had falsified my medical records numerous times to cover the abuse.

Stepping over me like I was nothing but a stain on the floor, Alexander guided the doctor straight to Victoria's side, leaving me bleeding on the marble.