The Alpha CEO’s Regretful Divorce

It is said that an Alpha is most dangerous—and most satisfying—during his heat, when the beast within him craves nothing more than to claim his mate completely. Bella Ashford lay weakly against her husband’s powerful chest, her body still quivering from the intensity of their joining. She raised her misty hazel eyes, opening her small hands toward him with fragile hope. “Where’s my anniversary gift?” Unlike her flushed, marked skin and disheveled waves of dark hair, Alpha Damien Blackwood’s black dress shirt remained mostly pristine, only the top buttons undone to reveal the hard lines of his collarbone and the faint silver glow of his partial mating mark. His deep-set obsidian eyes, framed by sharp brows, radiated that familiar ascetic coldness, like a moonlit blade. Yet this impeccably controlled Alpha King had just pinned her beneath him and driven her to ruin mere minutes ago. Bella’s heart pounded with foolish excitement and anticipation. Damien looked down at her, voice low and indifferent. “What anniversary?” Bella froze. He had been away for over a month, negotiating pack alliances across the Atlantic. She had believed he was returning today specifically to celebrate her birthday and their forced mating anniversary. Whispers had reached her that he had acquired a rare lunar relic from the sacred territories, and that his mother, Luna Helena, had entrusted him with the Blackwood ancestral moonstone collar. Anything would have made her happy. “You know exactly what I mean!” Bella scoffed softly, then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss his thin, cruel lips. Damien turned his face away and the kiss landed on empty air. Bella’s heart cracked. In the two years since the scandal had forced their union, they had mated—rarely—but he had never once kissed her on the lips. She had dared to hope tonight would be different. An omega’s delicate nature meant one hasty, possessive encounter was never enough. Damien grasped her slender wrist and pressed her palm firmly against his belt buckle, his voice laced with mockery. “Didn’t I just satisfy you? A gift? We’ll see how you behave tonight.” Bella suppressed the sting of rejection, her cheeks flushing again. Though they had been legally mated for two years, true intimacy was scarce. Shyly, she pulled her hand back. “Do it yourself,” she murmured, handing him a fresh shirt from the side of the bed. Damien scoffed at her evasive behavior. His gaze then fell on the torn protective sheath they had used during the height of his heat. His dark eyes turned ice-cold in an instant. He pinched her chin hard, forcing her to meet his stare. “Isabella Ashford! Who taught you these despicable tactics?”All passion vanished from his handsome face. The heat between them evaporated like mist under a winter moon. Bella was confused until she noticed the deliberately sabotaged sheath. Damien believed she had tampered with it—just as he had accused her of drugging him four years ago and forcing her way into his bed. “I didn’t do it!” she cried, voice trembling. She rushed to the drawer, pulling out the remaining sheaths to prove her innocence, but every single one had been carefully opened. Damien was already dressed, towering over her like a king passing judgment. “Not you? Who else has access to this chamber? You insisted on cleaning it yourself because I despise outsiders in our den.” Bella remembered Luna Helena’s visit a few days earlier. “It was your mother—she—” “My mother?” Damien’s voice was glacial. “You expect me to believe Helena would scheme for you to bear my pups?” Bella’s lips moved, but no sound emerged. He never believed her. Not then. Not now. “You’re utterly incorrigible.” Her silence was taken as admission. Damien’s eyes flashed with sharp fury, and he turned to leave. Panicked, Bella lunged forward and grabbed his hand. Just then, his phone rang. He shook her off effortlessly and answered, his tone softening instantly. “Okay. I know it’s today. I’ll be right there. Wait for me.” Bella caught the sweet, familiar lilt of a woman’s voice on the line. Desperate, she yanked off her silk slip and chased after him barefoot. The fabric caught on a crystal wine glass by the bedside; it shattered, red wine and shards exploding across the floor. She blocked the bedroom door, tears streaming. “Who is she? Have you been with her the entire month you were gone? Don’t leave! You promised you’d stay with me tonight…” Damien stared at her with arctic disdain. “Bella, you’ve made this demand of me too many times. Do you truly believe you have the right?” Her face drained of all color. He ruthlessly shoved her aside and strode out. Bella collapsed against the doorframe, voice breaking as she screamed after him, “If you leave, we’re getting a divorce!” He didn’t pause. His footsteps echoed down the corridor and faded. When she was eight years old, Damien had rescued her from a brutal rogue attack that claimed her birth family. He brought the broken, terrified girl back to the Blackwood Pack, raising her as his nominal younger sister. He taught her to control her first shift, attended her dance recitals, protected her from pack gossips calling her cursed, and stood as her shield through every full moon. For ten years, he was a brother, father, and hero. Then, at eighteen, a scandal erupted. Bella was found leaving his private chambers after a night she still couldn’t fully remember. The elders forced their mating to preserve the pack’s honor. His intended mate, Serena Whitewood, left the country in a heartbreak. Damien married her, but he never accepted her. They lived as strangers in the same den. A drunken mating a year ago had been their only true night together, yet he still refused to complete the bond or give her pups. He hated her for destroying his future. Bella had loved him in silence, terrified that even a whisper of her feelings would drive him further away. She had never schemed against him. Tonight’s cruelty was the final shattering blow. She wanted a divorce. To set him free. To free herself. “Madam? Why are you on the floor?” Old Aunt Mara, the housekeeper, asked in alarm from the doorway. Bella wiped her face quickly and stood. “What is it?” “The Alpha asked me to bring you this before he left…” Aunt Mara held out water and moon-suppressant herbs. Bella took them numbly and swallowed the bitter pills. Later, while cleaning the broken glass, she discovered a shard had sliced deep into her foot. Blood smeared the marble. She laughed bitterly at herself—tending the floor before her own wound. Downstairs, the candlelit dinner and moon-phase cake she had prepared sat untouched. Aunt Mara’s panicked cry rang out. “Oh no! Young Elias has a high fever!” Little Elias—Damien’s eight-year-old half-brother, whom Bella adored like her own—had been ill. She rushed him to the pack healing center. It was past midnight when they arrived. After tests, Elias was settled in a ward. Luna Helena and the servants waited outside while Bella fetched the reports. The ward door was ajar as voices drifted out. “Don’t worry, Madam. The healer says Young Elias’s lunar affliction isn’t immediately life-threatening, but a bone marrow match or strong heir bloodline would help stabilize him…” “I know,” Luna Helena replied coldly. “Blood transfusions are inevitable with his rare type. If Isabella can finally produce a viable pup with Damien’s blood, she’ll have served her purpose. The pack didn’t raise that stray for nothing…” Bella felt as if lightning had struck her soul. She was never meant to be Luna. She was a vessel. A blood source. Numb and reeling, she stumbled into the main hall and looked up. There stood Damien, accompanied by an elegant she-wolf wearing glowing festival gown. The ancestral moonstone collar gleamed on the woman’s wrist. Serena Whitewood had returned. Bella’s stomach churned. She felt dry-heaved, dizzy, that she almost fell. Damien who noticed her presence turned and their eyes met. He remained perfectly composed. Serena on the other hand glanced over, her face fair, gentle, and youthful—looking like the first love he had mourned for years. Looking at their figures standing side by side—Damien’s tall, imposing frame next to Serena’s graceful one—Bella felt a deep, soul-crushing sadness bloom in her chest. No wonder he hadn’t even flinched when she screamed about divorce. His true intended mate had finally returned.