My husband sold me to another Alpha

Isabelle

The cold scent of steel and betrayal hung in the air before Samantha even opened her mouth.

I should’ve known something was wrong the moment I caught her inside Jason’s private den, his most guarded space, the one even I, as his wife, had never been allowed to enter. Her fingers danced across the lock like she owned the place. Like she had the right.

Click. The safe creaked open.

And I watched in stunned silence as she pulled out a thin folder. She turned, eyes glittering with victory, and without hesitation, slapped the folder hard against my chest.

The weight of it hit harder than her hand ever could.

“A divorce agreement,” she said, lips curled in mock sympathy. “Signed and sealed. You’re not his wife anymore, Isabelle. You’ve been out of the picture for a long, long time.”

My fingers shook as I flipped the pages open. Every word felt like poison etched in ink. My name. My signature. All valid, all legal. I didn’t remember signing this… yet I had. Perhaps buried beneath layers of trust, perhaps in a document disguised as something else.

“He tricked me,” I whispered, voice barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears.

She smiled, baring her teeth like a wolf ready to feast. “We’re both lawyers, Belle. You of all people should know a signature’s a signature. Doesn’t matter if you were too stupid to read the fine print.”

I stood frozen, heart pounding in my chest like a drum of war. I still believed that he loved me in the three year of our marriage. Maybe I was the fool. Maybe I was clinging to nothing but memory.

Samantha leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Stop pretending like you still feel the bond. He didn’t even mate you when he took you as his wife, Isabelle. But look, he he touched me, he claimed me.”

My wolf growled low inside me, a sound only I could hear, wounded, but not dead.

“I’m just tying up loose ends,” she said sweetly, tucking the folder back into her arms like it was a gift. “Consider this my generous goodbye. I’ll even give you until tomorrow to get out.”

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I looked her dead in the eye and said with a voice cold as winter, “Alright then. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

My teeth clenched so tight I felt the pressure cut into my gums, but I didn’t flinch. I turned and walked away, each step slicing me open from the inside.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I packed. Not with grief or desperation, but with something deeper. Numbness. The hollow space left when everything you built collapses around you and you’re still standing.

I moved through the rooms like a ghost, quietly folding the expensive dresses he gave me, the jewelry he draped over me like chains. All of it went into boxes. Not for storage, not for selling.

Destruction.

When Jason and Samantha left the estate the next morning, probably to celebrate the end of my existence, I made the call to a courier. When he arrived, I handed him the boxes and the destination address.

His brows furrowed. “Ma’am, this… this is a waste incineration plant.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m tipping you to make sure those things burn.”

He nodded slowly, still stunned. “Yes, Miss—I mean… Attorney.”

I watched those boxes go, and with them, I shed one layer of my past. The gold and silk meant nothing now. Jason meant nothing now.

My phone buzzed.

I almost didn’t answer. But when I saw my mother’s name, I picked up.

Her voice was shaking, half-sobs, half-hysterical panic. “Isabelle… someone’s trying to take your sister’s shrine. They’re tearing it down, baby… her resting place—”

I dropped the phone.

I didn’t even put on shoes. Just shifted—half-shifted, claws protruding from my fingers, my eyes already glowing amber—and ran.

By the time I got there, I saw my mother on the ground, clutching my sister’s urn with desperate hands. Blood stained her palms where someone had yanked her away. I rushed to her, helping her up, heart pounding, fury rising.

“Who did this?!” I snarled, eyes blazing.

She pointed a shaking finger. “She said her precious little dog died and stole the shrine for herself—Isabelle, she pushed me. She tried to throw away your sister’s ashes!”

I turned, and I saw her.

Samantha.

Standing by the half-open shrine doors, smirking, her eyes swollen with crocodile tears.

She turned to me with feigned surprise. “Oh, Isabelle. Here to perform for sympathy again?”

The gall. The audacity.

“I’m here to bury my dog,” she sniffed, waving to a satin-wrapped box. “Surely that’s not too much to ask. Or are you so heartless you’d deny even a dog a proper burial?”

I stepped forward slowly, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “You knew this shrine was already claimed. It was for my sister!”

She shrugged. “It’s not like your sister’s really in there, is she? After all… I knew you’re just hiding her because of the video.”

The dig hit like a blade in my gut. She was talking about the last footage ever taken of my twin—before her death.

I didn’t take the bait. I turned instead to the cemetery manager, who had arrived upon hearing the shouting.

“Sir,” I said, “This shrine was purchased and reserved for my sister. My family has the receipt. My mother hand-carved the nameplate herself. We have every right to defend this place.”

The manager nodded solemnly. “Ma’am, I remember. We don’t reassign shrines, not without formal cancellation and clearance. I’ll help Miss Samantha find another space.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But Samantha screamed.

“You’re siding with her? She’s lying! You’re all being fooled, she’s manipulating you with this sob story. Her sister is not dead! And now she’s stealing from me—my dog deserves this!”

I ignored her. Walked straight to the shrine. Kneeling gently, I placed my sister’s urn back into place, fingers trembling.

“Heartless?” I whispered, loud enough for Samantha to hear. “That word suits you far better than it does me.”

She dropped to her knees behind me, fake wailing. It was almost laughable, until the scent hit me.

Jason.

He arrived like a thunderstorm, his aura oppressive, cold, dominant. His alpha presence alone sent the nearby wolves backing away in silence.

His eyes met mine with disdain. “Take that thing out of the shrine,” he ordered, voice like ice.

Then he lifted Samantha into his arms like a prized possession, cradling her as she sobbed against him.

I stepped forward, blocking the shrine entrance. My wolf was howling now. Loud. Furious. But I held her back.

“Do you even know whose ashes these are?” I asked.

Jason’s expression didn’t change. “So what if I do? What does it matter? You’re the one who keeps causing trouble. You brought this on yourself.”

He gave a signal. One of the guards grabbed the urn.

“No—!” I shouted, reaching for it—

Too late. The urn shattered on the ground. The ashes spilled into the dirt.

Another guard, unprovoked, stomped on them.

My mother screamed. Fell to her knees. Tried to scoop up the ashes with trembling fingers. Her grief was raw, animalistic.

I was frozen. My hands trembled, blood seeping from where my claws dug into my own palms.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, barely holding it together. “This is my sister’s… this is—”

Jason cut me off.

“I knew you’d try something pathetic like this,” he sneered. “Keep lying and I’ll turn your lie into truth.”

Then he walked away. Holding her. Everyone followed.

Only the silence remained. And the ashes. And us.

I dropped to the ground beside my mother, dirt mixing with tears. My hands pawed through what was left of my sister… ash, bone fragments, soil.

There was no strength left in me.

No pride. Just the hollow ache of a shattered bond, and the Moon Goddess’s cruel silence.

If she was watching, I begged her now—avenge this.

Because I would never forget.