My Mate Gave My Paintings to His Mistress

I don't knock.

Henry's office door slams against the wall as I shove it open, and for the first time in years, I don't care about the noise or the disrespect or what anyone thinks. My wolf is pushing forward, her fury giving me strength I'd forgotten I possessed.

Henry looks up from his desk, irritation flashing across his face before he schools it into that cold Alpha mask. "Stella. I'm in a meeting—"

"Where are my paintings?" My voice doesn't shake. My wolf won't let it.

His amber eyes narrow. "Lower your voice. You're being hysterical."

"Where. Are. My. Paintings." Each word comes out sharp as broken glass.

Henry stands slowly, his Alpha aura beginning to press down on me. But my wolf snarls, pushing back against the pressure. We're done being crushed.

"Those paintings were taking up valuable storage space," he says, his tone dismissive. "I donated them to someone who could actually use them."

"You gave them to Everly." It's not a question. "She's hosting an exhibition tomorrow night at the Silverfang gallery. My work. Under her name."

Something flickers in his expression—surprise that I know, maybe, or annoyance that I found out so quickly. But it's gone in an instant, replaced by cold calculation.

"Everly has been developing her artistic talents for years," Henry says smoothly. "Those pieces were collaborative efforts—"

"Liar." The word explodes from me. "I'm calling Marcus Reed. I'm telling the entire Silverfang Pack that those paintings are mine. I'm exposing her fraud to the whole werewolf world."

Henry moves faster than I can track, his hand slamming down on his desk with enough force to crack the wood. His Alpha aura surges, trying to force me to submit, to back down, to be the good little Luna who never causes problems.

But my wolf is done submitting.

"You will do no such thing," Henry growls, his voice dropping into that Alpha tone that used to make my knees weak. Now it just makes me angrier. "You will not embarrass this pack. You will not ruin Everly's moment. And you will not question my decisions again."

"Or what?" I meet his eyes, and I see the moment he realizes I'm not afraid anymore. "You'll what, Henry? Take more from me? There's nothing left to steal."

His expression goes cold. Calculating. And I see the exact moment he decides to destroy me.

"Get out of my office," he says quietly. "Before you do something you'll regret."

I leave because my wolf tells me to—not out of submission, but strategy. We need to contact Marcus Reed, need to gather evidence, need to move quickly before Everly's exhibition tomorrow night.

But I'm not fast enough.

By dinner time, the pack mind-link explodes with images I've never seen before. Photos of me at the territory border, grainy and dark, but unmistakably me. Except I'm not alone. Figures lurk in the shadows around me—rough, dangerous-looking wolves with rogue written all over them.

The accompanying message from Henry's Beta burns through the mind-link: *Luna Stella Wood has been consorting with rogues at our borders. Alpha Henry asks all pack members to remain vigilant and report any suspicious behavior.*

My wolf howls in rage. Those photos are fake—they have to be. I was buying groceries, alone, soaked to the bone in the storm. But the timestamps match. The location matches. And Henry's Beta has always been skilled with image manipulation.

The mind-link erupts with responses. Shock. Disgust. Betrayal. Pack members I've known for years, wolves I've served and supported and cared for, turn on me in an instant.

*I always knew something was off about her.*

*A true Luna would never betray her pack like this.*

*Thank the Moon Goddess Alpha Henry has Everly to rely on.*

I try to defend myself through the mind-link, try to explain, but Henry's Alpha authority blocks me. I can receive messages but can't send them. He's silenced me completely.

When I walk through the packhouse halls to dinner, pack members openly sneer. Some turn their backs. Others whisper just loud enough for me to hear—traitor, rogue-lover, disgrace.

Diana Cross, who used to have coffee with me every Tuesday morning, stops directly in my path. For a moment, I think she might defend me. We've been friends for years.

Then she spits at my feet.

"Traitor," Diana hisses, and walks away.

The dining hall goes silent when I enter. Every eye turns to me, and the hostility is so thick I can taste it. My wolf whimpers, overwhelmed by the pack's collective rejection.

Caleb is already seated, Everly beside him, her hand on his arm in a maternal gesture that makes my stomach turn. When my son sees me, his expression hardens into something cruel and unfamiliar.

I move toward my usual seat—beside Caleb, across from Henry—but Caleb deliberately shifts his plate, moving closer to Everly and farther from me.

"I don't sit with traitorous Omegas," he says loudly, and the pack murmurs approval.

Everly makes a show of comforting him, her voice carrying across the silent hall. "It's alright, sweetheart. You don't have to pretend anymore. We all see her for what she really is."

Henry watches from the head of the table, his expression unreadable. He doesn't defend me. Doesn't correct Caleb. Doesn't acknowledge that his Beta fabricated those photos to protect his chosen mate's stolen exhibition.

He just watches as his pack destroys me, piece by piece.

And I realize with devastating clarity: this was always the plan.