Divorced After Carrying My Alpha’s Mistress’s Heir

He threw himself without hesitation beneath the old woman's silver-tipped cane, shielding Lyra Ashvale behind him with a protectiveness that made every comforting word he'd spoken to me moments ago seem like a cruel joke. "Grandmother! The plan was my idea—I did it for the Hawthorne Pack! Don't hurt someone innocent!" Matriarch Morwen Hawthorne froze, her sharp gaze instinctively cutting toward me. When she saw the white sheets soaking through with blood, she brought the cane down hard across Fenris Hawthorne's back. "You beast! Her wounds haven't healed—how could you let her hold the pup!" Panic and regret flashed through Fenris's eyes. He moved to rush toward me. But behind him, Lyra Ashvale crumpled to the ground. He faltered, then gathered her into his arms, ready to leave. The Matriarch planted herself firmly in his path. "You will not leave! Your mate is still in there! Do you even want this pack anymore!" Fenris's eyes swam with conflict. "I do! But you struck her—she's injured! I can't just abandon her! Selene... she has you. She'll be fine!" Once, he had sheltered me from every storm just like this. Once, I would never have been the one left behind. I swallowed the pain and looked at him with empty calm. "Grandmother, let him go." He seemed stunned that I would be so generous. After all, in the past, I had thrown tantrums, begged on my knees, cast away every shred of dignity just to keep him from walking away. His expression grew complicated. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, he strode out without another word. The healer's assistant and the pup-nurse helped me tend to my wounds again. The pup was soothed back to sleep. My communication crystal suddenly pulsed with his message. [I forgot about your wounds. I'm sorry. I just didn't want a scene at the Healer's Ward—it would damage the Hawthorne Pack's reputation.] [Lyra hasn't woken yet. She needs someone with her, so I won't come back tonight. Rest well.] I stared at the glowing words for a long time. I remembered how he used to be. When he learned I'd been hurt while he was in distant territory, he'd traveled eleven hours by skyship, canceled every alliance meeting, just to accompany me to a simple examination. He hadn't left my side for even a moment. Seeing me sigh, the Matriarch snatched the crystal away. She read those cold words and let out a harsh scoff. "That wretched pup! When he returns, I'll deal with him myself. Selene, don't worry, Grandmother will—" I laughed suddenly, cutting her off. My gaze was steady as I met her eyes. "You allowed all of this, didn't you?" "I don't care what happens to him anymore. You promised me—once I bore this pup, you would help me sever the bond. I hope you keep your word." Her expression faltered. Deep guilt pooled in her eyes. "Grandmother has wronged you." "I already tricked him into marking the rejection documents. Complete your thirty days of recovery, and then you may leave." The Matriarch took the pup into her own care, personally arranging for attendants. I stayed at the recovery den under the guise of post-birth healing, avoiding the worst of the gossip. But that very night, word spread through every pack circle: the Hawthorne Alpha Heir had abandoned his mate right after she whelped, defying the Matriarch Regent herself to protect his Omega mistress—his mate's own half-sister. Hawthorne territory tributes began to dwindle. Pack allies grew hesitant. Fenris was drowning in damage control. Lyra Ashvale's Howl-Channel—her carefully cultivated platform as a courtship influencer—was overrun by furious wolves. The scandal I had once exposed myself, about her seducing her sister's mate, resurfaced from where Fenris had buried it. The pack networks howled with condemnation. If Fenris hadn't intervened, her channel would have been stripped and she'd owe breach-penalties to every sponsor. Seven days passed before I saw him again. The moment he laid eyes on me, disappointment twisted his features. "Selene Ashvale. Does destroying us like this really make you happy?" I blinked, then understood. He had pinned the spreading rumors on me. Of course he had. After all, I'd once served as a Pack Scribe—shaping narratives and fanning flames was what I did best.

What a pity that the first time I'd gone mad and exposed his shameful affair with Lyra Ashvale, he'd used accusations of privacy violation and reputation damage to pressure the pack's Chronicle Hall into casting me out. Now finding anyone willing to help me was no simple matter. I cast him a sidelong glance, long past the wounded feelings of being wrongly accused. My hands continued their work on the anniversary memorial gift for Rowan. "You should know there's more than one piece of evidence about your disgraceful entanglement with her. If I wanted to expose it all, you'd probably have to bleed territory rights again." He stood frozen in the doorway for a long while. His voice emerged with something close to helplessness. "After this is over, I'll sever ties with her. But you have to promise me—we'll live well together from now on, alright? Once the pup arrives, we'll be a happy family." These words—he'd spoken them nearly every day during my pregnancy. Yet it never stopped him from remaining tangled up with Lyra Ashvale. Either he pitied her status as an illegitimate half-blood daughter, or he felt sorry for her loneliness without a true pack to rely on. In short, he had ten thousand reasons for being unable to resist her, for shielding her at every turn. He remained standing in the doorway, as if he wouldn't leave until I answered. Watching him block the pale morning light filtering through the den's windows, I gave him a half-hearted response. It wasn't until the next morning, when scent-forged footage of my supposed infidelity spread like wildfire across every pack's howl-channels, that I understood what he'd meant by "after this is over." Fenris Hawthorne had released a clarification announcement. In the recording, he spoke to the gathered pack representatives with grief-stricken composure, claiming I had been caught by my younger sister engaging in a heat-tryst with another wolf during my pregnancy. He said I'd spread false rumors about him in retaliation for being discovered. Lyra Ashvale wept so prettily, tears streaming down her delicate face, saying she had only tried to counsel me against betraying Fenris's devotion. But I had mistaken her concern for a threat to expose my adultery and struck back in vengeance. Every wolf across the territories demanded that Fenris reject our bond immediately—cast out this shameless Omega. Yet he maintained his devoted Alpha facade. "No matter what wrongs Selene commits in this lifetime, I cannot stop loving her." Watching his hypocritical performance, I couldn't hold back the bile rising in my throat. Fenris heard the sound from outside the chamber door and rushed in. "What's wrong?" I frowned, catching sight of Lyra Ashvale trailing behind him, and shook off his hand. "Nothing's wrong. I just find you revolting. To protect your hidden Omega consort's crimes, you'd spare no effort to destroy your mate's reputation. Fenris, your love is truly magnificent." His face went deathly pale. His mouth opened as if to explain. But Lyra suddenly dropped to her knees, weeping like spring rain on white blossoms. "I'm sorry, sister. This is all my fault! Brother-in-law only made you the scapegoat because of me." Fenris's heart instantly melted with pity. His gaze turned sharp with reproach as he looked at me. "I came here specifically to tell you about this. All of it was glamour-forged—scent mimicry layered over fabricated footage. When it comes down to it, she's your blood sister. Sacrificing yourself to help her is only right. When I help her, I'm helping you preserve your bloodline ties. Why must you be so aggressive toward her?" "Besides, you're just a domestic Omega now. Reputation means nothing to you. Outsiders wagging their tongues won't affect my feelings for you. As long as I know it's false, that's enough. But she's different—she has no pack to rely on, and she depends on the howl-channels for her livelihood. If her image and standing are ruined, everything she's built will collapse." Listening to his self-righteous justifications, I felt only disgust. A domestic Omega—and whose doing was that? Back then, he hadn't just pressured the Chronicle Hall into casting me out. He'd also spread word through every pack's communication networks that anyone who employed me would be making an enemy of the Hawthorne Pack. I was turned away from every position I sought. When I finally found work with a small, independent den archive, he filed malicious complaints against us with the Pack Council. In the end, all my credentials as a Pack Chronicler were revoked. I became an outcast that every wolf in the profession scorned. I had no desire to argue with him. The healing attendant had said I needed to maintain a peaceful spirit during my recovery from the birth. In half a month's time, I would finally be free of all this.

The Matriarch had also given me her word—when the time came, she would prove my innocence to all. What they thought of me no longer mattered. I watched him with an expressionless face, let out a long breath, and turned to burrow into the furs of my sleeping nest. "Do as you please. Whatever you want." He thought I would lash out at Lyra Ashvale the way I used to—claws bared, fangs showing. His whole body went tense, and he planted himself firmly in front of her like a shield. But when he saw me simply turn my back and lie down, every emotion on his face ground to a halt. After a long silence, he spoke in a voice thick with disbelief. "You... you're not angry?" My tone stayed flat. "Haven't you always wanted me to get along with her peacefully?" He exhaled and actually laughed with relief. "You've finally learned. I knew you weren't truly cold-hearted. I'll make it up to you—I swear I will." I didn't respond. I didn't look at him once, not even when they finally left. A long time later, I pressed my palm against my chest where no flutter stirred. So this was what letting go felt like. Over the following days, guilt seemed to drive him. He visited me every few suns—met with cold silence, turned away at the door—yet he never lost patience. He just kept painting pictures of the beautiful life we'd share someday. It wasn't until he brought up the pup's First Moon Celebration that his words turned hesitant. "Lyra will never be able to claim her own blood-born pup in front of the pack. So I thought... while the pup is still too young to understand... I could let her attend the ceremony openly. As the mother." "It would ease her sorrow, at least a little. Don't you think?" My fingers never stopped working the bone needle through the memorial shroud I was stitching for Rowan. I didn't even lift my eyes. "I told you—do as you please. This pup was never mine. Whatever you decide has nothing to do with me." His throat worked. Red crept into the rims of his eyes, and a flicker of anger sparked beneath it. He snatched the offering cloth from my hands—the one meant for Rowan's cairn. "Why have you been like this lately? Do you even understand what it means if she attends? It means the pack will see her as the Hawthorne Alpha's true mate. You never would have allowed that before." I paused. Let my gaze drift to him with something close to boredom. "And that's a problem? Two moons ago, when you were tangled in her bed, didn't you tell her it was such a pity you could never give her a proper place at your side?" He went pale as carved stone, frozen where he stood. I took the cloth back from his slack grip. My emotions stayed steady, as though nothing had happened at all. He hovered at my ear after that, spilling excuse after excuse—he didn't love her, she'd slipped a heat-draught into his drink, he'd only taken her body because of the drug and felt obligated to take responsibility. The words made my stomach turn, but my silence defeated them all. After that day, he stopped coming to see me. But I often saw Lyra's posts on the pack's Howl-Channel—photo after photo of them together. They'd taken the pup to every portrait artist in the territory, posing as a perfect little family in every style imaginable. The day I finally left my recovery den, the entire Hawthorne Pack was celebrating that bastard pup's First Moon. The Matriarch sent word: the Bond Rejection would be sealed by tomorrow. When I returned to the den to gather my things, I found that the chambers Fenris and I had once shared—our mating quarters—had been completely transformed into everything Lyra preferred. Even the portrait that used to hang beside the hearth—Fenris cradling my swollen belly, his hands gentle over the life growing inside me—had been replaced. Now it showed him with Lyra and the pup. A perfect family portrait. In the image, Fenris Hawthorne was smiling. Smiling more brightly than he had the day I'd accepted his courtship claim. I went to the sleeping chamber, meaning to take only the clothes I'd brought before our mating. But no matter how I searched through the carved wooden wardrobes, I couldn't find it—the hand-embroidered ceremonial gown my mother had stitched for me with her own hands before she passed. I was reaching for my communication crystal to ask when I saw it: a new post on the Howl-Channel. Lyra, wearing my mother's gown, standing at the First Moon Celebration. Rage boiled up from somewhere deep. I called for a runner and rushed to the great hall. There she was—arm linked through Fenris's, laughing prettily, accepting the pack's fawning congratulations like she'd earned every word. When Fenris spotted me, guilt flickered across his face—but beneath it, I caught a gleam of smug satisfaction, as if he'd expected this all along. He released Lyra and walked toward me.

"I knew you couldn't resist coming, but today is an important occasion for the pup. Don't—" I didn't give him the chance to finish. I lunged toward Lyra Ashvale and struck her hard across the face. "Remember your place as a hidden consort. Don't be like your mother, that old homewrecker, always coveting what belongs to others." As I spoke, I pulled out the ceremonial shears and slashed through the traditional gown she wore. The fabric tore with a satisfying rip, accompanied by her shrill scream as I ripped the garment apart. "If you have nothing to wear, then stand bare. This was a gown my mother made for me. You're nothing but a secret Omega mistress—I'd rather destroy it than let you wear it!" The gathering descended into chaos, yet the Matriarch Regent, who always valued the pack's reputation above all else, remained standing in place without intervening. Fenris Hawthorne draped his coat over Lyra's shoulders and glared at me with fury burning in his golden eyes. "How can you be so vicious? With so many pack members watching, where do you expect her to put her dignity? She only borrowed it for a moment. Do you really need to make such a scene over something so trivial?" Watching him twist right and wrong so shamelessly, I let out a cold laugh. My hand moved swiftly, cutting off every button from the matching ceremonial shirt my mother had sewn for him with her own hands. "You've forgotten the oath you swore to my mother—that you would treat me well for the rest of your life. It doesn't matter. I won't forget. What was between us is like this shirt now—our bond is severed, our ties cut completely!" "May your little family enjoy a hundred years of happiness together." With those words, I walked out amid the stunned silence of everyone present. The full moon celebration didn't end well. Lyra fainted from emotional distress, and Fenris rushed her to the Healer's Ward. The Matriarch Regent was left alone to host the remainder of the ceremony with the pup. The next morning, I successfully obtained the Bond Rejection decree. My communication device still showed messages from Fenris demanding I apologize. I blocked and deleted him, then took the decree and went to the memorial grounds to visit my Rowan. Half a moon cycle earlier, I had already asked the cairn keepers to erect his name-stone. Looking at the carved words—Beloved Pup, Rowan Ashvale—endless grief flooded my heart. I opened my mouth, about to say something. From behind me came Fenris's voice. "I knew you'd come here. Whenever you felt wronged before, you always came to see the pup. But yesterday you went too far. In front of everyone—" Before he could finish, Lyra let out a dramatic gasp. "Alpha, she actually gave that pup the same name as our pup!" "Sister, even if you don't like that pup, you'll be his mother from now on. Why would you use the same name to curse him to an early death?" Fenris frowned and stepped closer to read the carved name—Rowan Ashvale. His gaze dropped lower, and he saw that only one name was listed as the one who raised the cairn: Mother—Selene Ashvale. His name was nowhere to be found. The fact that the pup bore his mother's bloodline name instead of the Hawthorne line stirred a strange unease within him. But that unease quickly dissolved in the sound of Lyra's weeping. He fixed me with a furious stare. "The pup's death is a wound in my heart too. But why did you act on your own? Are you trying to curse your own nephew to death?" "I haven't even confronted you about humiliating Lyra in front of the entire pack yesterday. Do you think that because I love you, I'll tolerate anything from you?" "I'm giving you ten minutes. Have the cairn keepers destroy this stone immediately. Once I've chosen a proper name, I'll have a new one erected!" I looked coldly at this man who had once wept inconsolably after our son's death. "And if I refuse?" He froze, staring at me in disbelief. After a long moment, deep disappointment filled his amber eyes. He raised his hand, and three pack guards emerged from the carriage. "Selene Ashvale, he was my pup. But Lyra's pup is also my pup. If you insist on doing this, then I'll have no choice but to dig up his cairn!" "I'm sure his spirit would understand that I'm doing this to protect his younger brother. He wouldn't blame me." Even though I already knew the ugliness of his true nature, hearing that he would desecrate my child's cairn for the sake of his mistress—all over a name—sent a sharp ache through my chest. I watched his expression, so confident he had already won. He was certain I would yield to protect my son's resting place. I smiled faintly. Calmly, I reached into my cloak and pulled out the bond rejection decree, tossing it at his feet. "I'm afraid, Alpha Heir, you no longer have any authority over what I name my child." "Because as of one hour ago, we are no longer mates."