The Alpha Who Auctioned His Wife

Mireya

The chair beneath me gave a soft groan when I adjusted my posture, the sound barely audible in the heavy silence of the room. I didn’t look away from Dominic Ivyclaw—not even for a second—not even as the tension settled on my lungs like a slab of stone I couldn’t push off.

He looked exactly as he always did in public: flawless. Every line of him was polished to perfection. His pale blond hair was combed neatly back, not a strand out of place, and the silver cuff at his wrist caught the low office lighting, the Ivyclaw insignia etched into it gleaming like a silent warning. This was Ivyclaw Tower—his territory. His future throne.

The future Alpha.

The heir.

The man who once took my hands beneath twin moons and vowed himself to me in secret.

My husband.

And somehow, sitting across from him now, he felt like a stranger wearing Dominic’s face.

Without a word, he pushed his phone across the sleek glass table separating us.

“Take a look,” he said flatly.

My fingers hovered for a second before touching it. The surface of the glass was icy against my skin. I picked up the device, my pulse thudding in my ears, and tapped the screen.

The world stopped.

Ysabel.

My twin.

Her image filled the screen—bruised, swollen, barely recognizable. Her hands were restrained, her body shaking. When she screamed, it wasn’t just sound. It was pain made audible, ripping straight through me, tearing something vital apart.

A man’s voice followed—mocking, cruel, dripping with amusement. He spat insults at her, laughed at her terror, treated her like she wasn’t a living wolf at all. As if she had no family. No future. No worth.

Not a she-wolf.

Not someone’s sister.

Not someone who was supposed to be married someday.

Just something disposable.

And because we were twins, every blow felt like it landed on me too.

My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the phone. “You absolute monster,” I breathed. “Where did you get this?”

Dominic leaned back, crossing his arms, relaxed—as though this were a routine briefing, not my sister’s suffering playing on repeat.

“The perpetrator sent it to Marianne,” he replied. “She thought I should be aware. Damage control and all that.”

Something feral rose inside me. Damage control? That’s what Ysabel’s agony was to him?

“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. “You know her. You know what she’s been through. She’s my sister.”

“I’m aware,” he said coolly. “So let’s not waste time. You have exactly three minutes.” His gaze hardened. “Hand over every piece of evidence you have. If you don’t…” He nodded toward the phone. “That recording goes public. Or perhaps I let certain outlets assume it’s you. No one could tell the difference. You and Ysabel share the same face.”

The room seemed to tilt.

I couldn’t draw air into my lungs. My thoughts scattered.

“You’d really do that?” My voice broke. “You’d burn my name in the High Wolf Court? After everything I sacrificed—after everything we built—”

Dominic exhaled impatiently. “You knew this arrangement had an expiration date. You’re an omega, Eya. No lineage. No history. The court only keeps you around because you serve a purpose.”

Something metallic clinked on the table.

A card.

“Ten million,” he said casually. “Give it to Ysabel. Let her buy herself comfort—luxury, distractions, whatever helps her forget. Frankly, it’s generous.”

I stared at the card, the Ivyclaw Bank emblem staring back at me like an insult.

“And Marianne?” I asked quietly, my teeth clenched. “Where does she fit into this scheme of yours?”

For the first time, something almost like softness crossed his features. Almost.

“She once protected me,” he said. “That matters.”

“She’s defending the man who violated my sister.”

Dominic didn’t react.

“She’s standing between justice and a monster,” I pressed.

He smiled faintly, empty of warmth. “That’s reality, Eya. Sometimes wolves bleed.”

I recoiled. “You were supposed to be my mate—”

“We were legally bound, not fated,” he snapped. “You never carried destiny’s mark.”

My wolf screamed.

“You swore to me,” I whispered. “You said you’d challenge even the Moon Goddess before ever choosing against me.”

He shrugged. “People change.”

My claws pressed painfully into my palms.

Memories surged without mercy.

Dominic driving me through hostile territories while I chased evidence. Dominic brewing tea at dawn when I collapsed over case files. Dominic kneeling beneath the stars, sliding a moonstone ring onto my finger, whispering, I don’t care what they say. You’re my only future.

Every word had been a lie.

The first time I faced Marianne in the High Wolf Court, her presence didn’t shock me.

Her expression did.

She stood confidently at the defense table, shoulders squared, pride gleaming in her eyes.

She was representing an Alpha so decayed in both body and soul he reeked of corruption—accused of abusing a rogue child barely seven years old. The kind of case that should have silenced the chamber with shared revulsion.

Marianne entered like she was about to save the realm.

“Esteemed members of the court,” she said smoothly, “even an Alpha deserves due process.”

I sat motionless at the prosecution table, jaw tight, my wolf restless beneath my skin.

She always cloaked rot in righteousness. Her arguments leaned on emotion rather than truth, but her confidence carried weight.

“He is an elder,” she continued. “A patriarch. A grandfather. Are we truly prepared to believe he would sacrifice everything for the unverified claim of a feral rogue pup with no affiliations?”

A low growl escaped me before I could stop it. My second’s hand landed firmly on my arm.

Later, outside, I didn’t seek her out.

She came to me.

I stood beneath the old willow near the courthouse steps, pretending to scroll through files etched into my memory.

“Mireya,” she called pleasantly. “Do you always glare at me like I’m the enemy?”

I met her gaze. “You shield predators. What else would you be?”

She sighed theatrically. “You think morality is exclusive to your side. That Alpha is frail. He has a family. Is ruining what little time he has left really necessary for your conscience?”

“A child was hurt,” I replied coldly. “Does she not deserve justice because she lacks a pack?”

She scoffed. “She’s the result of unmated wolves. A mistake, frankly.”

My body went rigid. Rage surged, hot and violent. I forced my voice steady. “The Moon Goddess watches, Marianne. Even when you hide cruelty behind logic.”

That exchange haunted me—especially when I remembered what I’d once warned Dominic about her.

“She’s not who you think she is,” I’d said. “She manipulates. She’s dangerous.”

He’d held me then, his scent grounding my wolf. “Say the word,” he’d murmured. “I’ll deal with her.”

I believed him.

Months later, Marianne was appointed legal counsel to Ivyclaw Pack enterprises. Not me. My record didn’t matter. My blood did.

She was acceptable. Presentable.

Then Dominic hired her again—this time as his personal adviser.

“We need more people,” he’d said offhandedly. “Besides… she’s intriguing.”

That word lodged deep, sharp and quiet.

Still, I stayed silent. I trusted love.

I shouldn’t have.

Because now, he wasn’t just influenced by her.

He was choosing her.

“I should’ve seen it,” I said dully. “The moment you replaced me. The moment you called her interesting.”

He didn’t argue.

“You’re not the man I married.”

“And you’re not the omega who knew her place,” he replied.

My vision blurred. “If I refuse… will you really destroy Ysabel? Destroy us?”

He smiled thinly. “Test me.”

Something inside me collapsed.

I signed.

I left without looking back.

Ivyclaw Tower felt hollow as I walked out, the crest above the doors meaningless.

Then my phone rang.

“Mireya—hospital. Now. Ysabel tried to end her life.”

I don’t remember the journey.

I only remember the hospital floor. My mother kneeling, bleeding, begging.

Ysabel—cold, lifeless.

“They could’ve saved her,” a healer whispered.

“They didn’t,” another said. “Orders.”

“From who?”

“Alpha Dominic. Marianne’s pet was injured.”

The world ended.

I collapsed beside Ysabel, sobbing apologies into silence.

My mother stood.

“We leave,” she said. “Five days. We take her ashes. And we never return.”