Vivian POV
I splashed cold water on my face, watching the pale, trembling woman in the executive bathroom mirror. I needed to pull myself together. I was still the VP of Marketing for Sterling Corp. I just needed the quiet sanctuary of my office to breathe.
But when I reached the end of the 40th-floor corridor, my heart plummeted.
The heavy glass door to my corner office was propped open. Two maintenance workers were changing the electronic lock. Stacked haphazardly in the hallway were three cardboard boxes containing my personal belongings—my framed degree, my favorite pen set, the small potted succulent I had nurtured for years.
"Oh, Vivian. Good, you're here."
I turned. Olivia Lane, the Marketing Director and Serena's former college roommate, leaned against the wall. She wore a striking red dress, her arms crossed. The scent rolling off her was a sickeningly sweet wave of pure, unadulterated schadenfreude.
"What is this, Olivia?" I asked, my voice dangerously tight.
"Departmental space optimization," she said with a fake, sympathetic pout. "We're bringing in a new senior consultant, and they need the executive suite. HR said you wouldn't mind relocating. I've already had your things moved to the Archives Annex."
The Archives Annex. A windowless, converted storage closet in the basement. It was a public, humiliating execution of my corporate authority. They were systematically erasing the wolfless Luna from the Pack's empire.
I didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I picked up the heaviest box and walked toward the freight elevator.
The Annex smelled of decaying paper and dust. The overhead fluorescent light buzzed, casting a sickly, flickering glow over the cramped space. I set the box down just as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
A news alert. *Alpha Sterling's True Mate? Serena Chase Returns.*
I stared at the screen, the air leaving my lungs. It was a high-res photo of Julian opening the door of a black SUV for Serena. He was smiling—a soft, genuine smile I hadn't seen in three years. He was wearing the exact same bespoke charcoal suit he had worn this morning when he slid the *MATE REJECTION AGREEMENT* across our kitchen island.
My phone rang, shattering the silence. It was Julian. The fact that he had to call me, a wolfless Omega deaf to the Pack's *Mind-Link*, felt like another insult.
"Vivian," his Alpha tone was clipped, devoid of any warmth. "I need you to drive out to the Hamptons Estate immediately. There's a Pack territorial deed in the library safe. I need it for a board meeting tomorrow morning."
It was a lie. I had audited the estate's inventory last week; that safe was completely empty. He was banishing me from the city so he could parade his mistress around without the awkwardness of running into his soon-to-be ex-wife.
"Fine," I whispered. Defying a direct Alpha command before the Rejection was finalized was dangerous. Besides, I needed to get out of this suffocating city.
An hour later, I was behind the wheel of an inconspicuous Pack sedan, stopped at a red light on Fifth Avenue.
I glanced out the window and froze.
There, stepping out of the golden revolving doors of The Pierre Hotel, were Julian and Serena. He looked relaxed, utterly content. But what caught my eye was the flash of silver on his tie. An ice-blue tie clip. My third-anniversary gift to him—the one he had sneered at, calling the color "too weak."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the cracked car window, carrying their intertwined scents directly to me. Julian's powerful aura of winter storm and ancient pine was completely polluted by Serena's artificial hothouse orchids. Worse, beneath it all was the unmistakable, lazy musk of an Alpha who had just been thoroughly satisfied.
A violent cramp seized my lower abdomen. My pup, sensing the catastrophic severing of the bond and the sheer agony of its mother, recoiled. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper, slamming my foot on the gas pedal the second the light turned green. He was parading his betrayal, completely ignorant of the life growing inside me that he was actively harming.
By the time I reached the Hamptons Estate, the sun was setting, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cedar-shingled mansion. The house was dead silent, smelling of lemon polish and the faint, lingering ghost of hothouse orchids.
I walked straight into the dark, wood-paneled library and spun the dial on the wall safe hidden behind a hunting painting.
Empty. Just as I knew it would be.
I let out a hollow laugh, the sound dying quickly in the massive room. But as I turned to leave, a glint of light on the edge of the heavy oak desk caught my eye.
I walked over and picked it up. It was a long, diamond teardrop earring. I flipped it over. Engraved on the back of the clasp was a microscopic insignia: a jagged claw mark. The crest of the Redclaw Pack.
The grief instantly evaporated, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity. Julian hadn't just broken our marriage; he had brought the enemy into the heart of Sterling Pack territory.
I slipped the earring into my coat pocket, my fingers brushing against the relabeled bottle of prenatal vitamins. The evidence of his treason rested right next to the secret of my survival. I didn't leave the library. I sat down in the leather chair, waiting in the dark for the Alpha to return to his empty safe.
