She Took My Place I Cut His Clan

My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out.

I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste.

He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered.

So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice.

But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan.

Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked.

He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood.

Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one.

Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air.

"Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities."

"You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?"

A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder.

They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood.

I said nothing. I just nodded.

Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned.

But he didn't know.

I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood.

There was no "us" anymore.

Two days after Lucien and his little lover left for their Venetian holiday, I finalized the transfer of my work at the Evernight Industries core lab and submitted my resignation to the board.

Less than ten minutes later, a magical brand burned on my wrist. A “permission” from Lucien.

He clearly thought I was throwing a tantrum.

He expected me to crawl back, just like all the other times.

The other vampire researchers in the lab were practically gloating.

They thought I was finally running away, unable to stand watching Celeste be showered with affection.

"Looks like someone's finally facing reality," a young researcher snickered. "Lord Lucien is clearly much happier with Lady Celeste."

"I heard she even got the 'Moonlight Blood' supply treaty."

"Octavia used to guard that project like it was her own life."

I ignored their jealous stares, a cold smile playing on my lips as I gathered my files.

"You're right," I said, my voice like the calm surface of a frozen lake. "The Cain Conglomerate just sent me an offer. Chief Alchemist. Double the top-tier blood supply and my own independent research fund. Thank you all for your... concern over the years."

Their laughter died in their throats.

The Cain Conglomerate were our clan's sworn enemies and one of the wealthiest factions in all of North America.

No one dared to speak.

The moment I teleported out of Evernight's gates, the bond seared my skin again. Stronger this time. More urgent.

Lucien's voice echoed in my mind, laced with his usual commanding tone. "Octavia, fix the contaminated 'Daybreak' synthetic blood. Now. You have one hour. This is an emergency."

I stopped.

He clearly didn't know the High Council itself protected my employment contract. Resigning was my right. As for his authority as Lord... that would soon be gone, too.

"I'm not at the lab anymore."

Three seconds of silence on the other end.

"What do you mean?" Lucien's voice turned dangerous.

"I quit."

"You dare abandon your post?" His rage nearly burned through the bond. "As your Lord, I command you to return to the lab immediately! Or I'll throw you in the clan dungeons!"

I opened the sample case he'd sent. A golden liquid reeked of decay, its magical energy in chaos.

This was the "Daybreak" project I had been forced to hand over to Celeste.

The same blood product, optimized with werewolf genetics, that the clan had once hailed as our future.

Now, it was ruined.

Classic. Celeste gets the glory, and I clean up the mess.

The memory hit me like a shard of ice. I was back in that basement.

Three days without sleep.

The feral rage of beast blood coursing through me as I fought to stabilize one single data point.

Lucien’s only message was a cold command: 'Celeste needs that formula to prove herself.'

My struggle for survival was just a stepping stone for his new love. In that moment, something inside me had died for good.

"Lucien, don't be so hard on Octavia," Celeste's voice purred through the link, a sickeningly sweet poison. "She's just acting out because she's jealous of us."

"But don't worry," she continued. "I'll work day and night for the clan. I won't let you down."

"You hear that?" Lucien's tone instantly softened, dripping with affection. "Celeste is willing to work herself to the bone for this clan, while you, at this critical moment—"

I activated my family’s magic mirror.

Far away in a Venetian castle, moonlight poured in.

Lucien was dancing with Celeste.

She wore a silk gown the color of fresh blood, his hand resting on the small of her back.

They kissed, they shared blood, lost in each other.

"Day and night," I repeated, my voice a flat, dead calm. "It must be exhausting."

"Octavia, what is that tone?" Lucien sensed the shift. "I don't care what tantrum you're throwing. Get back to the lab. Now."

I severed the connection.

Two minutes later, my phone vibrated. A new post on the Sanguine Web.

It was a photo from Celeste.

She was wearing the Moongod's Tear, an ancient blue gem our ancestors died to protect.

It sparkled against her pale throat.

Next to the photo was an ornate, rune-carved jewelry box, opened to reveal the full set of House Valerius heirlooms.

According to ancient law, only the one true blood-mate of the family could wear them, and only at a formal ceremony.

The caption was simple: "An eternal love deserves the most precious witness."

The likes were climbing into the thousands.

The comments a torrent of fawning praise and petty envy.

I scoffed. Just as I was about to leave, my phone buzzed again.

An alert from my personal blood vault.

Lord Lucien has withdrawn ten vials of Elder Blood.

My five-hundred-year-old private reserve.

Each drop was priceless, enough to grant a lesser vampire centuries of power.

The recipient: Celeste.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

Once again, Lucien was taking what was mine—what I had bled for—to pave the way for his new pet.