Fated To The Lycan Alpha, Divorced By His Idiót Cousin

Leilani The day I signed my divorce papers, that was the day I knew that I was doomed. That was the day hell emptied and all the demons decided my home would be a perfect place to stay. "You see, it's...it's not my fault," Harold, my husband, said, averting his gaze to finally find the news interesting. "After three years of living abroad Alpha Bernard Mogart had decided to finally come home..." the news anchor said. "Sometimes the moon goddess makes mistakes... I tried for real but my heart didn't agree," he said, and he was still holding Sandra's panties. I stood frozen in the center of our living room. My fingers clutched the document in my hand so tightly that the edges tore. I had just walked through the front door ten minutes ago. My heart had been hammering with pure excitement. For six months, I had worked myself to the bone, skipping meals and losing sleep. I had finally secured the ultimate good news, a massive, unconditional business grant that would revive Harold’s failing shipping company. It was supposed to be our fresh start. I had sacrificed my own secret savings to clear his debts just to qualify for it. Instead, I walked into our bedroom and found a lacy piece of fabric sitting on our pillows. My cousin Sandra's fabric. The unique, custom monogram on the silk was unmistakable. I had helped her pick it out for her birthday last year. "You tried?" The words tasted like I had vinegar in my mouth. "You tried by sleeping with my own flesh and blood in our bed?" Harold finally shifted his eyes away from the television screen. There was no remorse in his gaze. Instead, his jaw set into a cold, defensive line. He looked at me not as the woman he had sworn to protect, but as an annoying obstacle he had successfully managed to clear out of his way. "Don't play the victim here, Leilani," he sneered, his voice dropping into a calculating, transactional tone. "We both knew our marriage was dying. Sandra actually appreciates the pressure I am under as a high-ranking pack member. She provides what you couldn't." The cruelty of his words struck me like I had been punched . The pain wasn't just a dull ache; it was a sharp, tearing sensation in my chest. Three years of marriage, of fixing his mistakes, of shielding him from the pack's criticism, all reduced to nothing. But the betrayal cut in deeper when he gestured to the sleek coffee table. Sitting there, right next to a half-empty glass of whiskey, was a thick folder. "What is that?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. "The asset division and the pack council decree," Harold stated flatly. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "I’ve already signed them. The pack elders have formally approved our separation. Since you are a low-ranking omega and I am an elite warrior, the council has ruled in my favor." I stepped forward, my legs trembling, and snatched up the papers. As I scanned the bold print, the room seemed to spin. They hadn't just divided our lives. They had stripped me bare. The house I had decorated. The joint savings accounts filled with my hard-earned money. My family inheritance that I had transferred to our shared pack vault for safety. Even my official residency status within the Bloodmoon Pack. Everything had been legally transferred to Harold and his future household. "You took everything," I whispered, the crushing weight of the betrayal making it hard to breathe. “Every single thing I owned. You and Sandra planned this." "The council protects its assets, Leilani," Harold said smoothly, stepping closer. He looked at me with a sickening mixture of pity and arrogance. "A pack cannot waste resources on someone who can't provide strong bloodline connections. Sandra's lineage is stronger. She belongs here now. You don't, you need to pack whatever fits in a single suitcase and leave tonight." "Tonight?" I echoed. A fierce, burning rage began to spark beneath the immense pain. He wanted me to quietly slip away into the dark like a piece of trash he was discarding. He wanted me to make it easy for them. "Yes, tonight. The border guards have already been notified to revoke your gate pass by midnight," he said, turning his back on me to look at the TV again. The news anchor was still droning on about the Alpha King's luxurious convoy entering the territory boundaries. The utter humiliation of the moment crystallized into a cold, hard shield around my heart. I looked at the man I had loved, now seeing him for the calculating monster he truly was. I looked at the business grant in my hand, the piece of paper that could save his entire legacy. With slow, deliberate movements, I tore the grant letter in half. Then in quarters. I dropped the shredded pieces onto his polished floor. "You want me gone, Harold?" I said, my voice dead and completely devoid of the warmth he used to manipulate. "Fine. Do as you please But remember this day. Because the Moon Goddess doesn't forget." I didn't pack a suitcase. I refused to give him the satisfaction of watching me linger or hunt through closets while he stood there. Holding nothing but my jacket and my small handbag, I turned my back on the wreckage of my life and walked out the door. I slammed it behind me so hard the glass panes rattled. The night air was freezing, a brutal contrast to the suffocating heat of the house. I hadn't driven to the estate; I had taken the regional train into the pack's central station, fully intending to surprise him with a celebratory dinner. Now, I was entirely on foot. As I reached the main pack road, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour began to lash against the asphalt, drenching my clothes within seconds. The wind howled through the thick pine trees lining the empty highway, mirroring the storm tearing through my own soul. I walked along the gravel shoulder, my shoes soaking through, my vision blurred by a mixture of heavy rain and bitter, angry tears. I was a rogue now. Homeless, penny-less. Completely cast out by the people I called family. I was so pained that it brought more tears to my eyes. Suddenly, the dark, rainy night was pierced by a pair of blinding, aggressive high-beams. A massive, armored black SUV tore around the sharp, blind curve of the highway. It was moving at an incredible speed, dominating the center of the narrow road. Blinded by the sudden glare and emotionally exhausted, my footing slipped on the muddy edge of the asphalt. I stumbled forward, directly into the oncoming lane. The headlights filled my entire field of vision. The violent shriek of heavy-duty tires slamming on brakes echoed through the forest. The massive vehicle swerved aggressively, its metal frame missing my body by mere inches. The sheer force of the displacement wind knocked me off my feet, sending me crashing hard onto the wet, rocky mud of the ditch. The SUV came to a sudden, roaring halt, a sudden mad headache came over me. I gasped for air, my heart hammering violently against my ribs, my palms scraped and bleeding from the gravel. The heavy, reinforced door of the SUV pushed open against the pouring rain. A pair of expensive, pristine leather boots stepped directly into the mud. Instantly, an oppressive, suffocatingly powerful Alpha aura flooded the entire area. I swallowed hard. Something powerful was here. It was an aura so dominant it demanded immediate submission from my wolf for miles. Through the heavy sheets of rain and the glare of the running lights, I forced my head up. A towering, powerfully built man stepped into the open. His sharp, aristocratic features and piercing, dominant gaze wer e unmistakable. It was the exact face that had just been flashing across Harold's television screen. It was the supreme Alpha King, Bernard Mogart. And his eyes were locked entirely on me.