When My Mate Left Me for the Omega Neighbor

The garden party was Malcolm's idea—a rare moment of pack unity that I'd spent three days preparing for. Flowers arranged in vases along the stone pathways, tables laden with food, and champagne flowing freely. All to celebrate the pack's recent territory expansion.

I stood near the rose bushes, a glass of untouched champagne in my hand, watching Malcolm hold court in the center of the gathering. He looked every inch the Alpha—tall, commanding, his silver-streaked hair catching the afternoon light. Forty years ago, that sight had made my heart race. Now it just made me tired.

"Are you feeling alright, Luna?" Bonnie appeared at my side, her eyes concerned. "You've been quiet all day."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. The tumor had been particularly active today, sending sharp jabs through my skull whenever I moved too quickly.

Across the lawn, I spotted Angie floating between pack members in a flowing white dress that made her look ethereal and fragile. She'd positioned herself strategically near Malcolm, laughing at something he'd said.

Then I saw it—Malcolm's gaze drifting toward me, a rare moment of connection. Our eyes met across the garden, and for a heartbeat, I remembered what it felt like to be seen by him.

That's when Angie noticed.

I watched her calculation unfold like a slow-motion film. She waited until Malcolm was looking directly at me, then let out a delicate gasp and swayed dramatically.

"Oh!" she cried, her hand fluttering to her forehead. "I feel... I feel so faint..."

The garden fell silent. All eyes turned to the fragile Omega crumpling gracefully onto the grass.

"Angie!" Malcolm's voice boomed across the lawn as he rushed toward her.

I started forward too—instinctively moving to help—but Malcolm reached her first. Without a glance in my direction, he physically shoved past me, his elbow catching my ribs hard enough to send me stumbling backward.

"Give her space!" he commanded, his Alpha tone brooking no argument.

I stood there, champagne sloshing over the rim of my glass onto my fingers, as Malcolm scooped Angie into his arms with tender care.

"The heat," Angie whimpered against his chest. "It's too much for me today..."

"Let's get you inside," Malcolm murmured, carrying her toward the house as pack members parted before them like water.

No one followed me as I watched them go. I could feel their eyes on my back—some pitying, others curious, a few gleeful at the drama.

---

Three days later, I sat alone in the pack office, the digital ledger glowing on my screen. Balancing the accounts had always been my responsibility—another invisible contribution to the pack's smooth functioning.

I scrolled through the monthly expenses, noting the usual patterns. Food, utilities, pack supplies—all within expected ranges. Then I saw it: a massive withdrawal flagged simply as "Emergency Diplomatic Mission."

My finger hovered over the entry. Something about it felt wrong. The amount was far beyond what we typically spent on diplomatic efforts, and the timing...

I dug deeper, accessing the sub-ledgers that tracked individual transactions. There it was—a series of credit card pre-authorizations for the Grand Wailea Resort in Maui. Five-star accommodations, booked under Malcolm and Knox's names, with a third ticket for Angie Coleman.

My hands trembled as I scrolled through the details. Spa treatments. Oceanfront dining. A private cabana. All booked for next week.

"Emergency Diplomatic Mission." The words mocked me from the screen.

I heard footsteps in the hallway and quickly closed the ledger, my heart pounding. The door swung open, and Bonnie entered with a stack of files.

"Luna," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "These need your signature."

I nodded, accepting the papers without comment. As she turned to leave, I caught her wrist.

"Bonnie," I whispered, "is there a diplomatic mission next week?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "I don't know anything about—"

"Please," I interrupted. "Just tell me if you know."

She hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. "I've heard rumors. Nothing official."

---

The next morning, I walked alone near the training grounds, needing space to think. The warriors were practicing combat drills, their movements sharp and precise.

I was about to turn back when I heard it—a whisper on the pack's mind-link frequency, not meant for my ears.

"...sunscreen for his tropical trip," Elena Morrison was saying, her mental voice clear despite her attempt at privacy. "Can you believe the Alpha is taking her to Maui?"

A male voice responded, too low for me to catch the words.

"Well, I hope he remembers we have actual work to do while he's sipping cocktails on the beach," Elena continued.

I froze, my blood turning to ice. Maui. It wasn't just a theory anymore.

I found Knox in his office an hour later, reviewing security reports.

"Is it true?" I asked without preamble. "Are you and your father taking Angie to Maui?"

Knox looked up, surprise flashing across his face before it settled into careful neutrality. "Mother, what are you talking about?"

"I saw the bookings, Knox. The Grand Wailea Resort."

He set down his pen with deliberate slowness. "There's a summit meeting in the north. We're securing trade routes for the pack's future."

"A summit," I repeated flatly. "In Maui."

"Don't be ridiculous." His voice was steady, but his eyes wouldn't meet mine. "Maui is a tourist destination. We're going to the northern territories."

I stared at my son—this stranger with his father's lies so easily on his tongue—and felt something inside me crack.

"You're lying," I whispered.

Knox's face hardened. "I don't have time for this, Mother. I have actual pack business to attend to."

As I turned to leave, I caught sight of his desk calendar. There, written in bold red letters: "MAUI - 7 DAYS - FINALIZE PLANS."