The Alpha's Betrayed Mate

Gracie's POV

My hands trembled as I lifted the glass of cold water to my lips, forcing back the tears threatening to fall. Across the kitchen, Marcus smiled at me as he prepared my favorite meal, acting as if nothing had changed—as if he hadn't shattered me just moments ago of the truth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you for five years, Cie,” he said softly, using the nickname only he ever called me.

He plated the grilled beef, adding spices and a perfectly cooked sunny-side-up egg. “You need to eat more. You’ve lost too much weight.”

I stared at the food, my fingers tightening around the glass. My wolf growled inside me, urging me to lash out, to scream, to demand answers. But I held it all in, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The image of what I had seen earlier burned in my mind. The words they had spoken—betrayal woven into every syllable—didn’t just break my heart. They shattered it. Twice over.

At that moment, I would have rather died than face the truth.

My hands were still shaking as I set the glass down and moved toward the table. My gaze flicked to the knife. A cruel, bitter thought crossed my mind—I could drive it straight into his heart, make him feel the pain he had inflicted on me. Him and Anastasia.

Instead, I grabbed the fork, cutting into the beef with unsteady hands as tears finally escaped, sliding down my cheeks.

Marcus noticed immediately. “Cie, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

He reached for me, his warm hands gripping my shoulders as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Did something happen? What's wrong?”

His touch, his concern—it made me want to scream. He wiped my tears away so gently, and my heart ached. I wanted to believe this was just my imagination. A hallucination born from years of suffering.

But it wasn’t.

I loved Marcus. So much that it hurt.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with pain.

He smiled, tender and soft. “Is that all you wanted to say? I thought something was wrong.” His relief was evident as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then down to the tip of my nose. His lips hovered over mine, about to close the distance—

I stepped back.

The memory of him kissing my brother’s wife made bile rise in my throat.

“I’m just hungry,” I lied, forcing a bite into my mouth, even as my hands continued to tremble. The years in prison had broken me in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge. But the hope that the truth would come out, the thought of Marcus—those had been the only things keeping me alive.

Now, I wished I had died in there instead of learning this truth—that Marcus had never truly loved me.

“Gracie is here. We don’t want her to find out about us,” Marcus had whispered earlier, his hand caressing Anastasia’s face as she nuzzled into him like they were lovers.

I had never seen her like that with my brother. Never that affectionate.

“Yes, it’s best we keep it a secret for now—at least until the case is fully closed,” Anastasia had murmured, voice laced with pain. “I miss Lily. How I wish Gracie didn’t do it, but the truth is painful. I can’t hate her, though. She’s like a sister to me.”

She had spoken of me as if I were already guilty. As if I had done the unthinkable.

“How I wish it too.” Marcus had sighed. “The case has been reopened, and someone’s been digging up new evidence. But there are still discrepancies. If only I could do everything to help you find Lily, Anastasia. I know how much you miss your daughter. But Gracie knows where she disposed of the body.”

“Yes, she does.” Anastasia’s voice had hardened. “And you must find out where. Lily loved and trusted her. If she truly cared, she would confess.”

“I will, Anna. I will.”

The words had cut through me like knives.

Anastasia had never truly believed me. None of them had.

Now, Marcus poured my favorite berry wine, offering it with a smile. “Thank you,” I murmured, forcing myself to act normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, Cie,” he said, slicing the beef for me when he noticed my shaking hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you. The pack—there were so many responsibilities.”

“Why are your hands shaking?” he asked, brows furrowing in concern.

“My life in prison wasn’t easy,” I replied flatly, taking a sip of the wine. “You know, I wanted to end it all so many times. But I kept thinking of you, Marcus. And I held onto the hope that the truth would come out.” I met his gaze, swallowing hard. “I read the only letter you sent me over and over again for five years. It was the only thing that gave me hope.”

Marcus froze, the knife halting mid-cut. His eyes darkened with something unreadable. “What did they do to you?”

I hesitated.

Sometimes, I didn’t want to believe what the other prisoners had told me—that someone had paid them to make my life a living hell. That Marcus Delaver and my own parents had wanted me broken.

I had refused to believe it.

But now, I realized what a fool I had been.

Before I could answer, a furious voice cut through the kitchen.

“Why are you here?”

My father’s voice.

I turned to see him storming in, his face twisted in rage. His glare landed on Marcus, then on the food in front of me.

“And you, Marcus! Why are you giving her that food and wine? Someone like her doesn’t deserve such luxury!”