One Night to Ruin Him

Sarafina The foundation felt like a mask. I applied another layer, trying to hide the dark circles that five years of a hollow marriage had carved under my eyes. My hands were shaking. I hadn't been on a date with my husband in over a year, and the only reason tonight was happening was because the tabloids were calling him a "Predatory Alpha" for his late-night yacht trips with a nineteen-year-old model. "Move it, Sarafina! The car has been idling for ten minutes. Do you enjoy wasting our money?" The door to my dressing room swung open without a knock. My mother-in-law, Tegan, stood there in a gown that probably cost more than my college tuition. She looked at me with a sneer that made my skin crawl. "I’m almost ready, Mother," I whispered, pinning a loose strand of hair. "Don't call me that," she snapped, stepping into the room. She reached out and gripped my chin, tilting my head back with painful force. "Look at you. Pale, pathetic, and utterly useless. You’ve been the Luna of this house for five years and you haven't produced a single heir for the Vane lineage. You’re lucky Asher even remembers you exist." "I try, Tegan. I really do." She laughed, a dry, cruel sound. "You’re an Omega from a nothing family. You were a business transaction to settle a debt your father couldn't pay. If it were up to me, you’d be sleeping in the servant quarters. Now, get downstairs. Asher is meeting you at the restaurant. If you ruin this for the cameras, I’ll make sure you’re on the street by morning." She shoved my face away and walked out. I took a deep breath, the taste of copper in my mouth from biting my cheek. This was my life. I was a ghost in a mansion, a placeholder in a dynasty that hated my blood. The restaurant was one of those London spots where the lighting was too dim and the wine was too expensive. I sat at a corner table, the one perfectly positioned for the paparazzi outside to get a clear shot of the "happy couple." I waited. Thirty minutes passed. I ordered water. An hour passed. The waiter started giving me those looks. The kind of pitying stares that felt like salt in an open wound. "Would you like to order an appetizer, Mrs. Vane?" he asked. "No, thank you. My husband is just running late," I said, forcing a smile. Two hours. Three. I sat there for three hours, a beautiful ornament at a table for two, while the rest of the restaurant buzzed with laughter and the clinking of crystal. I felt every second of it. Every whisper from the tables nearby felt like a lash across my back. I was the wife who was being publicly stood up, again. The door finally opened. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. It was like a cold front had moved in. Asher walked in, his presence commanding and dark. He didn't look like a businessman. He looked like a hunter. He wore a black suit, no tie, and his top buttons were undone to reveal the ink of a wolf’s head tattooed across his collarbone. He didn't look for me. He walked to the table and pulled out the chair with a loud, aggressive scrape. He didn't apologize. He didn't even look at me. He just pulled out his phone and started typing. "You're three hours late," I said, my voice trembling. "I’m here, aren't I?" he snapped, his grey eyes finally flicking up. They were cold, devoid of any warmth. "I had things to take care of at the office. The Pack doesn't run itself while I’m playing house with you." "The cameras are outside, Asher. You could at least pretend you like me." "I'm tired of pretending, Sarafina. It's exhausting." He signaled the waiter and ordered a double scotch. No food. Just alcohol. "I saw the photos," I said, the words finally spilling out. I couldn't hold them back anymore. "The yacht. The girl. She’s barely out of school, Asher. Is that what you’re doing when you’re 'taking care of the pack'?" Asher leaned across the table, his shadow looming over me. He smelled like expensive tobacco and a woman’s perfume that wasn't mine. "Don't you ever question where I spend my time," he hissed, his voice a dangerous growl. "You live in my house. You spend my money. You wear the diamonds I bought you. That gives you the right to be my wife in public, not my warden in private." "I am your wife, Asher! We made vows!" "Vows?" He laughed, and the sound was like glass breaking. "My father made those vows for me. I was twenty-two and I needed an Omega who wouldn't talk back. But you’ve become a nuisance. You’re always crying, always wanting more than I’m willing to give." He took a long swig of his scotch, his eyes turning even darker. "I have news," he said, his tone suddenly flat and professional. "Hailey is back." The name hit me like a physical blow. Hailey. His first love. The woman who had been the Alpha’s true mate before her family moved to the States. The woman he had never truly forgotten. "Why are you telling me this?" I whispered. "Because she’s the reason I’m done," he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, sliding it across the white tablecloth. "Those are the divorce papers. I’ve already signed them." I stared at the envelope. I couldn't breathe. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by iron claws. "You're divorcing me? After five years? Where am I supposed to go?" "I don't care where you go. My lawyer will set up a small trust for you, provided you go quietly. I’ve been unhappy since the day we said 'I do.' I don't love you, Sarafina. I never did. You were a duty, and I’ve fulfilled it." He stood up, ready to leave me again, but then he paused. He looked at me, his eyes scanning my tear-stained face with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. "But there’s a problem," he said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. "My mother says the optics of a divorce right now would destroy the merger. The shareholders want a stable Alpha. They want the image of the perfect Vane family." I looked at him, hope flickering for a split second before he extinguished it. "So, here is the deal," Asher said, his smirk cruel and calculating. "You stay in the house. You keep the name. You play the Luna at the events and you smile for the cameras so the press stops talking about my private life." "And?" Asher’s eyes turned predatory. "You get to stay a Vane. But from tonight on, we have an open marriage. I’m going to be with Hailey. I’m going to give her everything I never gave you. And you? You can do whatever you want, as long as I don't have to see it or hear about it." He leaned in closer, his voice a low, terrifying whisper. "Don't cry, Sarafina. You wanted a date. Well, this is the last one you’re ever getting from me. Sign the papers or don't, it doesn't matter. I’m going to her tonight. Don't wait up." He turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving me sitting there in the silence, the divorce papers staring back at me. I looked at the wine glass in front of me. I felt a cold, sharp rage beginning to burn through the sadness. He wanted an open marriage? He wanted to treat me like a placeholder while he ran back to his first love? Fine. I picked up my phone, opened a private browser and typed in the address for the most exclusive, underground service in the city. If he wants a game, I’ll give him one. "I need a man," I whispered into the phone when the call connected. "Tonight. And he needs to be better than an Alpha."