My Mate Took Our Daughter’s Life-Saving Money

“Where did the money go?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, anxious and urgent, echoing in the quiet kitchen.

Lily paused a few steps away in the dining room, her tiny fork hovering above the cake.

Ten pink candles flickered softly, casting trembling shadows across her hopeful face. Her eyes, wide and bright, searched mine. “Mommy?”

I forced a shaky smile, rushing out to brush her dark hair behind her ear. “Everything’s fine, baby. Just enjoy your cake. Mommy will take care of everything for you, okay?”

-

My mate, Alpha Jackson, followed me out and lounged at the head of the table, one leg crossed over the other, his phone balanced lazily in his hand.

The tapping of his thumb against the screen was a metronome of impatience. He simply ignored my question.

Margaret, his mother, quickly sat beside him, pale and pristine, her eyes cold, sharp, assessing. Noah, our fifteen-year-old heir, pushed at his food, jaw tight, occasionally glancing at his sister with a disinterest that bordered on disdain.

“Jackson! The doctor called yesterday,” I knew maybe I should avoid the children before picking up the conversation again, but I was just too anxious for an answer now. “Dr. Thorne’s office. They need the deposit by Monday to secure Lily’s surgery slot.”

Jackson’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his eyes remained glued to his phone. “We’ll discuss it later, now, focus on Lily’s birthday dinner,” he said, clipped and precise.

“Jackson, there is no later. If we miss this window—”

“I said we’ll discuss it later, Raye.” His tone carried that dangerous edge I knew all too well.

But I couldn’t let it go.

Not tonight. Not when Lily sat there, blowing out her candles with that fragile hope shining in her eyes. Not when I had gone over our accounts that morning, only to find them nearly empty—except for the large withdrawal three days ago.

“Where did the money go? Tell me! I told you we need it!” I repeated again, louder this time, words spilling out in disbelief and fear.

The room fell silent. Even Noah’s fork paused midair.

Jackson finally lifted his gaze, cold and calculating. “What did you just say?”

My heart hammered, but Lily’s trusting face gave me courage. “The surgery fund. Thirty-five thousand dollars! It’s gone and I need you to tell me what you used that money for. I’m your mate—”

Margaret’s fork clinked against her plate as she set it down, eyes flicking between Jackson and me, as if anticipating a collision.

“You went through my accounts?” Jackson’s voice was deceptively calm, almost surgical.

“Our accounts,” I corrected, voice trembling but firm. “For our daughter’s surgery.”

“Mommy?” Lily’s small voice cut through the tension, fragile and worried. “Is everything okay?”

I forced a comforting smile, though my hands shook. “Everything’s fine, baby. I promise.”

Jackson rose slowly, chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Rachel needed help. She was exiled from her pack, left with nothing. I couldn’t just—”

“Rachel?” The name hit me like a hammer. His high school girlfriend—the one he’d never truly let go of. “You gave our daughter’s surgery money to Rachel, your ex?”

“She’s in trouble, Raye. Real trouble. And it’s not like Lily’s going to die tomorrow—”

“She could!” I burst out, startling even myself. “Her condition is deteriorating. Dr. Thorne said if we wait any longer, she might not survive the surgery at all!”

Lily started to cry, tiny body trembling.

I moved to comfort her, but Jackson’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist with a force that made me gasp.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at your Alpha,” he growled.

“This is about our daughter’s life—”

The first strike came faster than I could react. His open palm connected with my cheek with a sharp crack. I stumbled backward, hip hitting the table’s edge.

Lily screamed.

“You worthless, ungrateful bitch,” Jackson snarled, advancing. “I work my ass off to keep this pack together while you sit around doing nothing but questioning me and spending my money.”

I tried to retreat, but he grabbed my shoulders, fingers digging in, nails biting into my skin. “Jackson, please—the children—”

“The children need to see what happens when someone disrespects their Alpha.” The second blow hit my ribs, driving the air from my lungs.

I doubled over, gasping, but his hand yanked my hair, forcing me upright. Through the haze of pain, I saw Lily sobbing at the table, hands pressed over her ears. This was supposed to be her birthday. Her special day.

“You think you’re so smart with your little spreadsheets and budgets,” Jackson spat, voice rising. “But you’re nothing without me. A boring, useless woman who can’t even keep her mate interested. No wonder I had to find someone else.”

Each word was punctuated by another strike—stomach, back, arms—as I tried futilely to shield myself. The birthday cake toppled, pink frosting splattering across the floor as I crashed against the table.

“Stop it! Stop hurting Mommy!” Lily tried to run to me, but Noah caught her arm firmly.

“Stay back, Lily,” he said, voice cold and unfeeling. “Mom brought this on herself. Nobody disobeys the Alpha in a pack.”

The betrayal in his words cut deeper than any blow. I looked at him through swollen eyes, my son—the boy I had carried, nurtured, protected—and saw only Jackson’s cruelty reflected back.

Margaret remained seated, cutting another piece of cake with calm precision. “Really, Raye,” she said in her clipped, disapproving tone. “Making a scene on the child’s birthday. How selfish. You’re bringing shame to your Luna title.”

Jackson’s final kick struck my ribs. I felt a sharp crack. I curled into a ball on the floor, blood mixing with frosting, surrounded by the ruins of my daughter’s birthday.

“This is what happens when you forget your place,” Jackson said, straightening his shirt as though finishing a business meeting. “Rachel understands respect. Rachel appreciates what I do for her. Maybe you should learn from her example.”

Lily broke free from Noah’s grip, throwing herself onto me, arms wrapping around my shoulders. “Mommy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got sick. I’m sorry I cost so much money.”

My heart shattered completely. Through split lips, I whispered, “This isn’t your fault, baby. None of this is your fault.”

Jackson looked down at us, contempt in his eyes. “Clean this mess up. And next time you question my decisions, remember this moment.”

He walked out, leaving me broken on the kitchen floor, my terrified daughter clinging to me, the remnants of birthday candles smoldering, filling the air with the acrid smell of burnt hope.