I Illustrated My Husband’s Affair For His Mistress

The greenhouse was my sanctuary in a pack house that had never felt like home. Dawn hadn't yet broken when I slipped inside, the familiar scent of damp soil and blooming flowers wrapping around me like an embrace I'd long been denied elsewhere. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the watering can—a weakness I couldn't afford to show outside these glass walls. I focused on the white lilies, my favorites. Their pure petals reminded me of what I once was—hopeful, untainted. Before the mate bond that became my prison. "You're wilting too, aren't you?" I whispered to a drooping bloom, gently supporting its stem. My wolf, Luna, whimpered softly in the back of my mind. Once silver and strong, she now barely stirred, weakened by the sickness that had been consuming us both since I gave too much blood to save William three years ago. A sudden tremor ran through my bones, stronger than the usual morning weakness.

I tapped my pencil against the edge of my sketchpad, staring at the half-finished design for the ceremonial necklace I planned to surprise Marcus with for our fifth anniversary. The silver and moonstone piece would symbolize our enduring bond—five perfect years as Alpha and Luna of the Silverstone Pack. "What do you think, Lyra?" I whispered to my wolf, who purred contentedly in my mind. *Beautiful, like all your creations, Victoria.* My inner wolf had always been my greatest supporter, even before Marcus. I smiled, setting down my pencil and stretching my arms above my head. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of our shared study, casting a warm glow over the polished oak desk. Marcus had left his tablet behind this morning in his rush to handle what he'd called an "urgent pack matter." I reached for it, thinking I could review some of the anniversary celebration plans we'd been discussing. We'd granted each other access to our devices years ago—a symbol of trust between mates. The screen lit up at my touch, revealing a messaging app I rarely used. A notification blinked insistently in the corner—from Amber Rodriguez, our new pack coordinator.

I smoothed down the front of my silver gown, the one Alexander had gifted me on our fifth anniversary, as I entered the monthly Silverfang council meeting. The familiar faces of pack members nodded respectfully as I passed, taking my seat beside the ornate chair reserved for my mate, the Alpha. Seven years as Luna had taught me the rhythm of these gatherings—budget discussions, territory reports, and the occasional dispute resolution. Nothing I couldn't handle with the grace expected of Alexander's mate. My wolf, Aria, stirred within me. *Something feels wrong today.* I dismissed her concern with practiced ease. *It's just another meeting, dear one.* But when Alexander entered, his gaze swept past me as if I were invisible. The chill that ran down my spine wasn't just from the draft in the ancient stone chamber. "Let's begin," he announced, his voice carrying that natural authority that had first drawn me to him all those years ago. The meeting proceeded normally until Sarah Mitchell, the Beta's sister, rose from her seat across the chamber.

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He repayed with evil, I show him to hell

"Donna, have you lost your goddamn mind? Who told you to go near Grace?" After Donna had Robert's beloved, unattainable ideal blacklisted and sent abroad, he completely snapped. "You're hurting me..." Trying to pull her hand back, Donna found Robert's gaze fixed on her, his eyes bloodshot with fury. He didn't let go—instead, he tightened his grip. "Hurt? You think you know what hurt feels like? Grace slit her wrists, and you still arranged to have her sent away? Did you ever stop to consider her pain?" "Tell me, what did you say to her the last time you met?" Pain paled Donna's face, yet a stubborn defiance hardened within. Fighting to keep the tears at bay, she refused to show vulnerability and glared back at Robert without flinching. "What does her life or death have to do with me? Or with you!? I'm the one you're about to marry!" "Oh, wonderful. The future Mrs. Robert. Is that it? Donna, you're just counting on me having no choice but to marry you, aren't you? You think a piece of paper can trap me?" "Hah, looks like I've spoiled you too much all these years. You're still this naive, even at your age!" Robert sneered, eyes full of mockery. Blindfolding Donna, he hoisted her onto a wire dozens of meters high. She struggled desperately, the thin cord suspending her seeming ready to snap at any moment. "Stop!" Utterly hopeless. This was the same man who once cooled a cup of hot water before handing it to her, afraid she might burn herself. Now, he stood there coldly, savoring her desperate pleas. Donna was the only legitimate heir of her generation in the family. A pity she was a girl—Michael didn't believe women should lead. So Laura took matters into her own hands. She selected six boys from affiliated families, raising them alongside Donna with the explicit understanding that her choice would become her husband and inherit the family empire. "Whoever Donna marries gets the keys to the empire!" Those six boys had always catered to Donna's every whim. As children, they were her entourage, teasing and tormenting others at her command. As adults, they accompanied her, beating the illegitimate family children into submission. Robert, the standout among them, always charged ahead, dealing the harshest blows. In Donna's eyes, that fearless brutality defined a man. So at her coming-of-age ceremony, she chose Robert as her fiancé without hesitation. She even spent hundreds of millions on advertising, announcing to the world that Donna was engaged to Robert! Only when those overwhelming ads reached Grace's ears, driving her to slit her wrists in anguish, did Donna finally realize: Robert had a cherished first love all along. And that tender "Donna" he whispered in moments of passion—that wasn't her either. Donna had tried to win Robert back, but Grace sought her out first. On one hand, Grace acted pure and proud, declaring she'd never be the other woman, urging Donna to help her go abroad. "Miss Donna, I have no interest in being a homewrecker, but you should keep your man in check. Don't let him come crawling to me—it puts me in an awkward position." On the other, she sent tearful messages to Robert, sobbing, "We're just not meant to be. Maybe in another life"—making Robert believe Donna had forced her hand. Donna's voice grew hoarse from crying, her eyes dull. The ropes cut into her skin, fresh wounds bleeding steadily. Finally, Robert deigned to crouch down and lift her chin. "Grace came back but refuses to eat properly, avoiding me on purpose." "She says as long as you're alive, she'll always be the other woman. She won't accept me. What am I supposed to do?" He thought the problem lay with Donna. Donna shook her head in despair. "I never said anything. She asked to leave herself..." She no longer had the strength to explain. Robert scoffed. "Donna, you really are heartless. I played the loyal dog for you all these years, and still you bite the hand that feeds you." With that, he gestured to someone beside him. The next moment, the rope around Donna's waist snapped... When she opened her eyes again, Donna was back at her coming-of-age ceremony, the day she chose Robert as her fiancé. "Donna, are you sure you want to choose Robert?"