Betrayed By Mate and Pup: She Chose His Nemesis

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

ANNALISA

Relief flooded through me, warm and unexpected, loosening the tension I'd been carrying in my shoulders for the past twenty-four hours. James was giving me a chance—not out of pity, but because he still believed in my abilities, still remembered what we'd built together before I'd walked away.

"Thank you," I breathed, my voice thick with emotion I hadn't expected to feel. "James, you have no idea what this means to me."

"Oh, I think I have some idea," he replied, and I could hear the warmth creeping into his tone, replacing the initial wariness. "Though I have to ask—have you been fully released from your current position? I need to know we're not stepping on any legal landmines here."

I glanced at the resignation letter sitting on my coffee table, Marcus's signature still fresh on the acceptance form. "I submitted my resignation this morning. My immediate supervisor approved it and said he'd process everything smoothly. I'm serving a two-week notice period, but the paperwork should be finalized within days."

"Should be finalized," James repeated, catching the uncertainty in my words. "Anna, I need more than 'should be.' You know how these corporate situations work, especially between competing companies. If your Alpha—your ex-husband—decides to contest the resignation or drag his feet on approval, it could create massive complications for TechNova."

My stomach tightened at the thought. Derek rarely involved himself in the day-to-day operations of his company, leaving most administrative decisions to Marcus and the other department heads. But if he happened to review the resignation approvals personally, if he saw my name and decided to ask questions...

"The person who approved it is the Beta," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady. "He handles all HR matters directly. My ex-husband doesn't typically review individual resignation letters unless there's a specific reason to flag them. I'm hoping... I'm just hoping this goes through without drawing his attention."

James was quiet for a moment, and I could picture him in his cluttered office, probably running his hand through his perpetually messy hair as he weighed the risks. "Alright. Here's what we'll do. Come to TechNova tomorrow as a visitor, not an employee. We'll discuss the new AI project we're developing, get you up to speed on where the company is now, see how your expertise might fit into our current trajectory. But Anna, I can't officially bring you on board until you have that resignation letter fully processed and in your hands. If your current company decides to sue us for poaching an employee who's still under contract, it would be a nightmare neither of us needs."

"I understand," I said quickly. "That's more than fair. I'll come as a visitor, nothing more. And James—thank you for being cautious. I don't want to cause problems for TechNova after everything you've built."

"Everything *we* built," he corrected gently. "Your algorithms are still the backbone of half our systems, Anna. Your departure left a hole we've never quite managed to fill, no matter how many brilliant minds we've hired. So yes, I'm being cautious, but I'm also excited. Really excited. It'll be good to have you back."

We talked for another twenty minutes, discussing logistics and timing, carefully avoiding the personal questions that hung unspoken between us. James didn't ask why my marriage had failed, didn't press for details about my life over the past seven years. He simply accepted my return at face value, focusing on the professional rather than the personal, and I was grateful for his discretion.

When we finally ended the call, I sat in the gathering darkness of my apartment, staring at my phone's blank screen. Tomorrow, I would walk into TechNova's headquarters for the first time in seven years. Tomorrow, I would begin reclaiming the identity I'd buried beneath the roles of mate and mother. Tomorrow, I would start becoming Annalisa again, not just Anna who existed in Derek's shadow.

But first, I needed clothes that fit the woman I was becoming rather than the woman I'd been.

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The morning sun streamed through my apartment windows as I surveyed my limited wardrobe with growing dismay. Seven years of prioritizing Chase's needs and Derek's image had left my closet filled with practical, unremarkable pieces—conservative blouses in muted colors, dark slacks that were professional but forgettable, the occasional dress that was appropriate for pack functions but utterly lacking in personality or style.

Nothing here reflected the tech innovator I'd once been, the woman who'd commanded respect in Silicon Valley boardrooms, who'd presented groundbreaking research at international conferences. That Annalisa had dressed with confidence and flair, had used fashion as another language to communicate her competence and creativity.

I needed that woman's wardrobe back.

The decision to skip work came easily. I had sick days accumulated, personal time I'd never used because I'd always been too worried about appearances, too concerned with being the perfect employee in Derek's company. But I was leaving anyway, and Marcus had already approved my resignation. What did it matter if I took a day for myself?

I sent a brief email to my team, citing a personal matter that required my attention, then dressed in the most presentable outfit I could assemble—dark jeans that actually fit properly and a cream sweater that didn't completely wash out my complexion. It wasn't much, but it would do for a shopping trip.

Riverside Mall was the pack territory's premier shopping destination, a sprawling complex of high-end boutiques and department stores that catered to the wealthy werewolf families who populated our region. I'd rarely shopped here during my marriage, finding the prices excessive and the atmosphere intimidating. But today, armed with the knowledge that I'd soon have a Silicon Valley salary again, I felt entitled to splurge on pieces that would help me reclaim my identity.

The boutique I'd called four days ago—back when the idea of leaving had still been forming, still felt impossible—was located on the mall's second floor. Maison Claire specialized in professional women's fashion, offering sophisticated pieces that bridged the gap between corporate and creative environments. I'd spent an hour on the phone with their personal shopper, describing my needs, my body type, my budget, requesting that they pull selections for me to review.

I was examining the window display, admiring a charcoal blazer with subtle metallic threading, when I heard the voice that still had the power to make my heart stutter.

"Anna?"