I Left After Alpha’s Lover Broke My Leg

Seven years ago, I, Sophie Caldwell, formed a sacred bond with Maxwell Sinclair, the wildest, most untamed wolf in Celadon Town. Today, on what I thought was our Seventh anniversary, I was headed pack-wide to compete in a dancing contest, my heart buzzing with excitement. First, I stopped by the records office to grab my personal info. I slid the form across the counter, scanning it quickly. My stomach dropped. "Excuse me," I said, my voice tight, "you got my status wrong. I'm bound, not unbound." The clerk barely glanced up. "No mistake, Ms. Caldwell. You and Maxwell Sinclair broke the bond two years ago. Same day, he formed a new bond with Madeline Cross. You know her?" Know her? My blood turned to ice. Madeline Cross wasn't just a name—it was a nightmare etched into my soul. Seven years back, she crashed our binding ceremony, screaming her obsession with Maxwell. Three years ago, she sprawled in his car, stark n***d, until he called the enforcers to haul her off. But three years ago? That was the year my world shattered. Madeline, crazed with jealousy, stormed my studio and broke my led with a rod. My everything. Maxwell's eyes blazed red when he found out. He wanted her dead, but I held him back, begging him to spare her life. Instead, he locked her away, swearing she'd suffer a thousand times worse than any prison for daring to hurt his "one true mate." He whipped her daily, he said, to make her pay. So how—how—could the clerk tell me that on the very day she broke my leg, Maxwell bound himself to her? My phone buzzed. A message from Maxwell. Sophie, it's our Seventh anniversary. Just finished dealing with that she-wolf. Coming home to you. Love you. I stared at the screen, my heart a tangled mess. For Seven years, every text he sent ended with "love you." His devotion burned like a wildfire. I was just a small-town she-wolf, a dancer with no pack prestige, yet this billionaire alpha chased me like I was the moon itself. Fireworks lit up the pack. Priceless jewels piled up. But what won me over wasn't his wealth—it was the way he flew back from other packs just to make me soup when my stomach ached. The way he paused boardroom meetings to tell me dumb jokes when I was down. To the world, he was a ruthless beast. To me, he was a gentle wolf, his love a warm den I could always crawl into. Could that Maxwell really betray me? Something pulled me to the villa—his so-called prison for Madeline. As I approached, soft cries drifted from the garden. My heart thudded. Through the dangling wisteria, I saw them, and it was like lightning split me in two. Maxwell stood tall in his crisp suit, a feather whip in hand, lashing Madeline's bare skin. She was tied to a chair, her body swaying, every curve on display. But those weren't cries of pain—they were moans of pleasure. Maxwell tossed the whip aside, his lips crashing onto hers, fierce and hungry. Their bodies melded, his shirt falling away, sweat glistening down his spine. My knees buckled. My heart ripped open, bleeding out. Those weren't cries I'd heard—they were her satisfied sighs. His "punishment" was nothing but their twisted foreplay. His "prison" was their love den. And that chair? My crystal chair. Maxwell spent a billion building it for me, promising it was mine alone, just like his love. "Sophie deserves the world's rarest treasures," he'd said, his voice soft as moonlight. Now, that crystal chair—and his love—belonged to her. The she-wolf who nearly destroyed me. My nails dug into my palms, blood seeping out, but the pain was nothing compared to the agony tearing through my chest. Why? Why? The answer came too soon. The room stilled. Madeline, flushed and glowing, purred, "My mate, you're incredible. I'm so fulfilled. Knowing I'm truly bound to you feels like a dream."