His Mate Humiliated Me as His Lover—She Didn’t Know I Was His Mother

Samantha's POV The door to Andrew's office flew open without warning. "I don't care how much he paid for that diamond ring — just find out who the hell he bought it for. Now. I want an answer in ten minutes!" I froze. That wasn't Andrew's voice. "Oh, damn it… who's in here?" A young woman stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind her with deliberate force. The moment her eyes landed on me, she stopped short. Clearly, she hadn't expected anyone else to be in the room. She wore a fitted black leather jacket over a cream knit top that hugged her curves, paired with high-waisted trousers and sharp stiletto boots. A sleek designer cap cast a shadow over her eyes, though it did nothing to soften their sharp intensity. Gold hoops caught the light at her ears, and her bold crimson lipstick only added to the air of confidence — and unmistakable possessiveness — radiating from her. She looked like someone accustomed to being the center of attention. I slowly rose from beside Andrew's desk, my pulse still unsteady from the sudden intrusion. For a long second, neither of us spoke. We simply stared at each other. Then, almost involuntarily, my gaze drifted to the framed photograph on his desk. The blonde girl in the photo. And suddenly, everything made sense. The same sharp cheekbones. The same proud tilt of the chin. Ah. So this must be her. I offered a polite smile. "I assume you're his mate?" Her chin lifted instantly. "Of course," she replied without hesitation. "I am the future Luna of the Silver Moon Pack. Everyone in the pack knows about our bond." There was pride in her voice — and a subtle warning. I couldn't help but laugh softly, delighted rather than threatened. "Well, that's wonderful news," I said warmly, stepping toward her with genuine enthusiasm. "It's lovely to finally meet you." But instead of meeting me halfway, she subtly shifted aside, creating distance between us. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe — my coat, my heels, the necklace at my throat — as though conducting an interrogation without asking a single question. "I'm Andrew's—" "Who you are doesn't interest me," she cut in coolly. Without waiting for an invitation, she walked past me and sat down in Andrew's chair. His chair. She crossed her legs deliberately, claiming the space with unmistakable authority. I paused. That gesture alone told me everything about her temperament. Possessive. Confident. Young. My eyes moved again to the photograph on the desk — Andrew's arm wrapped around her waist, her smile radiant and triumphant. I shook my head inwardly. That little rascal. He has a mate and never thought to mention it properly. -- "Is Andrew in?" Ten minutes earlier, I asked the question with barely contained excitement as I stepped into the Silver Moon Pack's administrative building. It had been over a year since I last stood in one of my son's offices. He kept moving upward in the world, further into responsibility. The young assistant at the front desk stood immediately. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Alpha Andrew left for the border an hour ago. There was a severe shooting incident early this morning." Her tone lowered respectfully. "It's still unstable. I can contact him for you." My heart tightened. Of course. Work first. Always. "That won't be necessary," I said gently. "Please don't disturb him. I'm not in a hurry. I'll wait." She hesitated, studying me — perhaps trying to place who I was — but then nodded. "I'll show you to the conference room." "No, thank you. I know my way." I walked slowly toward Andrew's desk. The surface was cluttered — border maps, case reports, marked files with urgent red tabs. A half-empty coffee cup sat beside an open folder. I smiled faintly. He still overworks himself. One year. It had been one whole year since I'd seen him in person. And today was special. Today was his birthday. And mine. Twenty-five years ago, on this exact day, I held him in my arms for the first time. He was loud. Fierce. Red-faced and stubborn even as a newborn. Now he was Alpha. Time truly had no mercy. I had flown overnight from Manhattan just to see his expression when he walked in and found me here. I could already imagine the disbelief, the grin he tried to hide. Maybe I'd scold him for forgetting to rest. Maybe we'd have dinner like we used to. As my gaze fell on the cover of a magazine featuring him, the door suddenly swung open. "Andrew—" I turned instinctively, ready to hurry over and pull him into a tight embrace, only to stop short. It wasn't him. A young woman stepped inside instead. The blonde from the photograph. His mate. The very girl now sitting in front of me. When I came back to my senses, I realized she was staring at me — and there was nothing friendly in her gaze. "I don't care who you are," she said coldly. "The question is — why are you in Andrew's office?" I let my hand fall gracefully to my side, a faint smile still resting on my lips. Up close, her features were striking — sharp cheekbones, pale skin, bright blonde hair tucked beneath her cap. Beautiful, yes. But young. Impulsive. Territorial. I was certain she didn't even know who I was, and that there must have been some misunderstanding. "I see," I said gently, my tone calm and almost amused. "It seems Andrew hasn't told you about me." Her eyes flickered. "What's your name, dear?" I continued smoothly. "I don't recall hearing him mention—" "You still haven't answered my question," she cut in, her voice tightening with irritation. I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. She was still so young — that explained the way she clung to a single question as if it were a verdict. "I came to surprise him," I replied gently, keeping my tone light. "You know I don't live here anymore. I've been in Manhattan for years." Her expression changed. "Manhattan?" "Yes. I've been based there for quite some time. I didn't even know he'd found his mate." I gestured lightly toward her. "Until now." She stared at me longer than before. "I see," she said slowly. There was a flicker in her gaze — something calculating. "I remember he once mentioned someone in Manhattan…" she muttered under her breath, then stopped abruptly. I tilted my head. "Did he?" She studied my face as if searching for cracks. "So you've been living in Manhattan," she repeated. "Yes, dear. Now you know." I stepped forward slightly, opening my arms out of habit. "It's really wonderful to finally meet you—" She stepped back quickly. The rejection surprised me for half a second. I lowered my arms, still smiling, pretending not to notice. "Andrew will be so happy you came," I added gently. "How do you know he's not here?" she asked sharply. I laughed lightly. "He's at the border, isn't he? There was a shooting this morning. He's always rushing toward trouble." I shook my head fondly. "Work matters more to him than his own birthday." Her eyes widened. "You know it's his birthday?" The shift was subtle but sharp. "Of course I do," I replied softly. "There's no way I'd ever forget." The silence between us thickened. She stared at me. "You came here today for that reason?" "Yes." I smiled, unable to hide the warmth in my voice. "It's been far too long since I've seen him. I miss him terribly." Her lips parted slightly. Her posture changed again — not cold, not yet hostile — but something darker had crept in. Possessiveness. Suspicion. Calculation. "You miss him," she echoed. "Very much." She crossed her arms now, no longer pretending hospitality. "So you know where he works. You know he's at the border. You know his birthday. You've known him since he was young. You live in Manhattan." Her tone sharpened with each detail. "And you thought you could just walk into his office." I smiled calmly. "I didn't think it was a problem." Her jaw tightened. Her gaze drifted over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. Then it stopped. Locked. On the necklace resting against my collarbone. It was a delicate silver chain, the pendant shaped like a crescent wolf — understated, but crafted with unmistakable pack insignia. Her breathing changed. "Where did you get that?" she asked quietly. I touched it absently, smiling. "This? Andrew gave it to me." Her eyes snapped up. "He gave that to you?" "Yes. Last year, during the full moon ceremony—" "That necklace," she cut in sharply, stepping closer, "is the most precious heirloom of the Silver Moon Pack." Her voice trembled now — not with fear, but something wounded. "I've wanted it for so long. He told me it wasn't the right time yet." Her lips pressed together. "And he gave it to you?" She lowered her head slightly, and to my surprise, her eyes turned red with unshed tears. For a moment, I was genuinely startled. Oh. Oh dear. I hadn't realized. A small, amused warmth rose in me despite the tension. She really is still a child. Without thinking too deeply, I unclasped the necklace and held it out to her. "Here," I said gently. "If you like it that much, take it. It belongs with you now." I meant it kindly. But the effect was the opposite. Her head jerked up. For a split second, she stared at the necklace in my hand. Then, suddenly— She slapped it away. The pendant hit the marble floor with a sharp metallic clang. "I don't want it!" she snapped, eyes blazing. "I don't need your pity!" I blinked, caught completely off guard. "You're confusing me, dear" I said, half laughing in disbelief. "I thought—" "Don't call me that!" she screamed when I opened my mouth to soothe her again. "Don't call me dear! You don't deserve to use that word." The warmth in the room evaporated. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "I'm ordering you to leave this office. Right now." Her tone had shifted — no longer merely defensive. Authoritative. Possessive. Almost hysterical. I straightened slightly. "Is there truly a problem?" I asked, more serious now. "Because I assure you, I came here peacefully." "Get out," she hissed. "Or you'll face the consequences." That made me pause. "Before you start issuing orders like that," I said calmly, tilting my head slightly, "did you ask Andrew whether he would agree?" Her eyes flashed. "You're threatening me with Andrew now?" she demanded. A faint smile curved my lips. "Threatening?" I repeated softly. "No, dear. I simply assumed you wouldn't make decisions on his behalf without his consent." "So you came here today to challenge my Luna title?" she snapped. "I'll say this one last time. Get out." "Is that truly what you think this is?" I met her gaze steadily. "From the moment I walked in, I've treated you with courtesy. Yet you've offered me nothing but hostility." "That was enough!". Something inside her seemed to snap. Her expression shifted — no longer merely irritated, but possessive. Almost feral. She looked at me as though I were an intruder trespassing on sacred ground. When she spoke again, her voice was low and deliberate, trembling with restrained fury. "Serena," she said, each syllable sharp as ice, "listen carefully. There is only one Luna in this pack." She placed a hand against her chest. "And that is me. Amanda." Her name landed between us like a territorial claim. For a heartbeat, I simply stared at her. "Serena?" I actually took a small step back, nearly losing my balance against the desk. "Who is Serena?"