Bound to my Rival

By the time we arrived at the banquet, my husband Adrian had already apologized three times for leaving me alone while he greeted people. Each time, he looked back at me from across the room as though he expected me to be offended by the few minutes it took him to speak with someone. “You’re doing it again,” I whispered when he finally returned. He looked at me with an innocent expression. “Doing what?” “Apologizing.” His mouth curved into the familiar smile that had softened me more times than I could count. “I can’t help it.” “Yes you can.” He laughed under his breath and reached for my hand as another pair of pack leaders approached us. “This is my wife Elara,” he said, introducing me with the kind of pride that always made me feel a little shy. “She’s the reason most of our social events run smoothly. I handle the difficult negotiations. She handles everyone else.” The older Alpha laughed. His Luna complimented my dress, and my husband immediately told her that I had chosen it myself because he knew I preferred something simple. It was such a small detail, but it made me smile. He noticed everything about me. At least, that was what I believed. As the evening continued, he moved from one conversation to another, introducing me to influential Alphas, wealthy pack families and council members whose names I had grown up hearing. Whenever someone praised him for strengthening our alliances, he was quick to redirect the attention toward me. “My Luna has been incredibly patient with me,” he said at one point. “She understands how important these relationships are.” I looked at him across the table and felt a quiet swell of affection. He was working hard for our future. That was what I told myself. There had always been people who questioned our marriage. He hadn’t been born into one of the great families, and I was the only daughter of the late Alpha King, which meant my position came with expectations he could never have inherited himself. Some people had assumed he wanted the power that came with marrying me. I never believed them. I loved him, and I had always believed that was more important than bloodlines or titles. After my father died, I had willingly placed the management of our pack’s wealth, territory and hereditary rights into my husband’s hands because I trusted him to protect what belonged to us. So when I watched him work the room that evening, I didn’t see a man taking advantage of my position. I saw my husband building something for both of us. I was reaching for my glass when I noticed the sudden change in the room. Several conversations quieted near the entrance, and I followed the direction of everyone’s attention. A man was walking toward us. I recognized him immediately: the Alpha heir of our rival pack. Our packs maintained a careful peace, but the rivalry between our families had existed for generations. We were polite when we had to be, cooperative when circumstances demanded it, and suspicious almost all of the time. I had never spoken to him before. Yet the moment his eyes met mine, I knew exactly who he was. Roman Blackwood. He was taller than I expected, dressed in a dark suit with an expression that gave nothing away. He carried a glass of wine, though from the way he held it, I suspected he had barely touched it. He stopped in front of me and studied me for several seconds. I felt myself straighten. “Can I help you?” His gaze remained fixed on mine. Then he spoke quietly enough that the people around us couldn’t hear. “Your husband is sleeping with my wife.” For a moment, I genuinely couldn’t process the sentence. I stared at him, waiting for the hint of a smile that would tell me this was some cruel joke. My shock quickly turned into anger. “If you’re trying to insult me, you should at least have the courage to say what you mean.” “I’ve said exactly what I mean.” My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass. “If you’re trying to drive a wedge between our packs, you should come up with a more convincing lie.” He didn’t argue, which almost made me angrier. Instead, he reached into his jacket and placed a small white card on the table. “Contact me when you’re ready to face the truth.” His handwriting was neat and unmistakably deliberate. Before I could say anything else, he turned and walked away. I watched him disappear into the crowd, my mind refusing to settle around what had just happened. My husband was sleeping with his wife. It was absurd. It had to be. I looked up. Adrian had returned, and his expression changed the moment he saw my face. “What did he say?” “Nothing important.” His eyebrows drew together. “Did he bother you?” “He was trying to provoke me.” “Don’t let him get into your head.” There was concern in his voice, and his hand came to rest gently against my back. “Whatever he says, don’t give him the satisfaction of believing him.” I looked at my husband. The man standing in front of me was the same man who knew how I took my tea, remembered which songs I hated and always noticed when I was tired before I admitted it myself. I slipped the card deeper into my clutch. “He didn’t say anything important.” Adrian kissed my temple. “Good.” The rest of the banquet passed without another incident, but I barely tasted my food. The words stayed with me all the way home. Your husband is sleeping with my wife. I tried to dismiss them. By the time we went to bed, I had almost convinced myself that I had. Adrian noticed I was unusually quiet. I sighed, and he smiled before disappearing into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of warm milk, exactly as he had done on countless nights when I couldn’t settle after a long day. He tucked the blanket around me and teased me about how I always complained about being cold before stealing all the covers anyway. When he repeated an old joke between us, I laughed despite myself. There was something comforting about the familiarity of it. This was my husband. The man I loved. The man I had trusted with my heart and my family’s legacy. I turned toward him after he switched off the light. “He would never betray me,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure whether I was telling him or myself. Hours later, I woke to the quiet sound of movement. Adrian shifted beside me, and I kept my eyes closed. The mattress dipped as he climbed out of bed. A few seconds later, I heard the bedroom door open. I should have gone back to sleep. Instead, I waited until his footsteps had faded down the corridor before quietly getting out of bed and following him. He walked toward the study at the end of the hallway, opened the door and disappeared inside. Light spilled across the dark floor before the door closed. I stopped outside. A wave of guilt immediately washed over me. What was I doing? He had spent the entire evening working for our pack. Now he was awake in the middle of the night dealing with more work, and I was standing outside his study because a stranger had planted an ugly suspicion in my head. I knew my husband. I trusted him. At least, I had always thought I did. After another moment, I turned back toward the bedroom. I refused to let a stranger’s words destroy something I had spent years believing in. My husband would never betray me. I repeated it silently as I slipped beneath the blankets again. Eventually, I closed my eyes, but sleep did not come as easily as it had before.