Marked by the werewolf

CHAPTER 3

The sting radiated through my cheek, sharp and familiar. This was not the first time my mother-in-law's was hitting me, though it was never quite this hard. Blood pooled in my mouth where my teeth had cut the inside of my cheek.

"You barren i***t," she hissed again, like the first time wasn't enough. "You can't even win a simple award, then what use are you to this family?"

I stood there, silent. What was I supposed to say? That I'd tried? That losing didn't make me worthless? She wouldn't care. She never did.

My father-in-law appeared behind her, his face was strong. "We expected better, Crystal. The Han family doesn't accept second place."

Second place? I hadn't even placed. I'd lost to a man who appeared out of nowhere three months ago and stole everything I'd worked for.

His voice echoed in my head, rough and intimate against my ear. My birthmark tingled beneath my makeup, a reminder of something I didn't understand.

The front door opened and Marcus walked in, his tie was loosened and was looking obviously exhausted. His looked at me in the eye, then the red mark blooming across my cheek.

Something flickered in his expression like anger, maybe or discomfort. With Marcus, it was always hard to tell.

"It's late," he said to his parents, his voice carefully neutral. "We can discuss this tomorrow."

He wasn't defending me, not even close. Just a deflection, a way to end the confrontation without actually confronting anyone.

My mother-in-law's lips curled. "Your wife is an embarrassment, Marcus. Six years of marriage and nothing to show for it. No children, no goodness, nothing."

"Mother," Marcus said quietly. "Please."

She swept past him toward the stairs, her husband following. But not before she threw one last barb over her shoulder.

"Perhaps you should have married someone more suitable."

The words hit their mark. They always did.

Marcus waited until they disappeared upstairs before turning to me. We stood in the foyer of what was supposed to be our home but felt more like a prison. His parents had insisted on moving in two years ago. "For family unity," they'd said. In reality, it meant we had no privacy and no space to breathe.

"Come on," Marcus said softly. "Let's go upstairs."

I followed him to our bedroom, the one space that was supposed to be ours alone. But even here, I felt their presence and their judgment seeping through the walls.

Marcus poured himself a drink from the bar cart, then hesitated before pouring a second glass which he handed over to me

I took it and drank. The whiskey burned, but not as much as my cheek.

Long silence stretched between us. Marcus had never been good with words because his father had also been cold and distant with his mother, never affectionate or romantic. Marcus had learned from that example and didn't know how to be anything else.

"I'm sorry about my mother," he finally said. "You know how she is."

The same excuse and empty apology he always gave.

"Just endure a little longer," he continued quietly. "They'll ease up eventually."

Something inside me snapped.

"Endure?" I whirled on him, raising my voice. "That's all you ever say, Marcus. Endure, be patient, they'll change. When? When will they change?"

He blinked, clearly shocked. I never raised my voice or fought back.

"Your mother slapped me tonight," I said, my voice shaking. "In our own house and you just stood there."

"I asked them to stop," Marcus said, defensive now. "What more do you want me to do? They're my parents, Crystal."

"I want you to choose me!" The words burst out of me, six years of frustration and loneliness pouring out all at once. "Just once, I want you to choose ME over them!"

Marcus stared at me like I'd struck him. His jaw moved, trying to find words that wouldn't come naturally to him.

"You know I..." He stopped then started again. "You know I care about you, Crystal. I married you because I wanted to, not just because our families arranged it."

Care, not love. Never love. He couldn't say the word or show the emotion behind it.

He reached for my hand, his movements stiff and uncertain. "I do care. I just... I don't know how to..."

I pulled away. "Caring isn't enough, Marcus. I can't live like this anymore."

The words came out before I could stop them. "Maybe we should divorce."

The room went silent. Marcus froze, his face draining of color.

"You don't mean that," he said, his voice hard but not angry. More like afraid.

"Don't I?" My voice cracked. "I've given six years to this marriage. Six years of being the perfect daughter-in-law, the perfect wife. And for what? To be called barren and worthless in my own home?"

Marcus's jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, I could see it but he didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to fix what was broken between us.

His phone rang and we both stared at it. He looked at the screen, then at me, clearly torn.

"I have to take this," he said quietly. "It's about the company."

I laughed, bitter and broken. "Of course it is."

He answered, his voice immediately shifting to business mode. All the emotion draining away and replaced by the cold professionalism he was comfortable with.

"What is it?" he said into the phone.

He listened, his face darkening with anger.

"Wolfe Enterprises again? How many deals is that this month?"

My birthmark tingled at the name, fWolfe.

Marcus paced, his free hand clenched into a fist. "I don't care what it takes. Find out who owns that company. They're targeting us specifically. Taking our clients and undercutting our bids. This isn't coincidence."

He hung up, frustrated and angry in a way he never was with his parents. With them, he was controlled and obedient. But this? This made him furious.

"A rival company has been destroying my business for months," he said to me, like I'd asked. "Wolfe Enterprises. Whoever runs it knows exactly how to hurt me. They're systematic and deliberate."

Wolfe? Like Brady Wolfe? The actor who'd stolen my award. Could they be connected?

But I said nothing. I just stood there, exhausted and hollow.

Marcus looked at me, saw the bruise forming on my cheek, the tears I was fighting back and the wife who'd just threatened to leave him.

"We'll talk tomorrow," he finally said. "When we're both calmer."

He left for his study because that's what he does when emotions got difficult. He retreated to work, to numbers and deals and things he could control.

I was left alone in our bedroom, shaking with anger and exhaustion and something else I couldn't name.

I should sleep but I couldn't. Too much was racing through my mind. Brady's words, Marcus's company troubles, my mother-in-law's cruelty and the divorce threat I'd thrown out just like that which I hadn't meant.

I changed into comfortable clothes and washed my face, staring at my reflection. The bruise was already darkening. The birthmark sat just above my collarbone, covered now with makeup but still tingling.

I pulled out my laptop. The one place I could breathe.

I opened MoonScript, the secret app where I wrote my stories. Where I was StarlessNight, not Crystal Han and where I could write about werewolves and f*******n love and freedom I'd never have.

A notification waited for me. New member added to your reading list.

Username: GoldenWolf.

My heart stopped and I tried to shake off the possibility that was building up in my mind. It can't be him.

I clicked on my latest chapter. The story of a werewolf and a human drawn to each other despite being from enemy worlds and despite everything that should keep them apart.

There was a new comment from GoldenWolf, posted an hour ago.

"How do you know this story?"

Five words that made my blood run cold.

What did that mean? It was fiction. I'd made it up.

Hadn't I?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I should ignore it like I ignored others comment and block this user but something stopped me. That same pull I'd felt when Brady whispered in my ear.

I typed: "It's fiction, I made it up."

I hit send before I could overthink it.

Immediately, three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen.

GoldenWolf was typing...