Chapter 1
Olaf Blackwood, a ruthless billionaire and my supposed mate, had just gotten his assistant pregnant.
He had the nerve to bring her back to the pack right in the middle of our mating anniversary banquet.
He looked at me with chilling indifference. "She is carrying my pup and has a tricky appetite," Olaf ordered. "You will prepare her meals personally from now on."
He did not even blink as he delivered the final blow. "She is also sensitive to unfamiliar scents, so pack your things and move down to the basement."
Without uttering a single word, I picked up the suitcase I had packed days ago and walked calmly toward the main entrance.
The head butler stepped forward to intercept me, but Olaf's cold sneer echoed through the hall.
"Let her throw her little tantrum. Without the protection of my scent to shield her, she will come crawling back in less than three days."
His arrogant declaration triggered a wave of boisterous laughter among the other werewolves lingering in the banquet hall.
Right before my eyes, they tossed around a ten-million-dollar bet that I'd be back before dawn, whimpering at the gates like a pathetic stray and begging Olaf to let me back inside.
What they did not know was that a black luxury sedan, sent by the most powerful Alpha in the country, was already waiting for me just beyond the estate.
*****
"Open the suitcase," Olaf commanded from the top of the sweeping spiral staircase, his voice dripping with a condescending arrogance that expected absolute obedience.
I kept my grip on the handle of my luggage, refusing to loosen my fingers or even turn around.
My high heels pressed into the thick Persian rug, making a series of muffled thuds as I kept walking.
"Augusta Sterling, I told you to stop right there," Olaf barked.
Around us, the werewolf guests who had been mingling with champagne flutes in hand gradually went quiet, their faces lighting up with malicious amusement.
The butler, Drew Chavez, stepped in front of me, trembling with anxiety as he reached out, trying to pry the suitcase from my hand.
I fixed him with a freezing glare, causing his hand to freeze awkwardly in mid-air.
Olaf swirled a half-filled glass of red wine as he took his time walking down the stairs.
His assistant, Sarah Collins, clung tightly to his arm, flaunting a limited-edition silk negligee that was supposed to belong to me.
She deliberately thrust out her stomach, which wasn't even showing yet, her red lips curving into a provocative smirk.
"Augusta, why are you in such a rush to leave?" Sarah asked, her voice dripping with malice. "Olaf is making sure you aren't walking out with any of the conglomerate's confidential files."
She didn't call me "ma'am," let alone use the title of Luna. Her smug tone made it sound as though she were already the true mistress of the estate.
"After all, you've been freeloading in this house for five whole years," she added with a covered laugh, her eyes greedily scanning my custom leather luggage. "Who's to say you aren't slipping away with stolen goods?"
Olaf stopped right in front of me, looking down his nose at me. "Sarah makes a fair point. You can walk out of here with nothing to your name, but you aren't taking a single blade of grass that belongs to this estate."
I finally lifted my gaze, looking directly at the face of the man I had meticulously supported for five long years.
He was completely blinded by his own vanity and utterly foolish.
"There are only my personal clothes inside," I said, my voice flat and completely devoid of emotion.
"I don't buy it," Sarah cut in loudly. "Not unless you open it right now and let everyone check."
Olaf gave a slight nod, silently validating her absurd demand.
I looked at the two of them, my lips pulling back into a mocking, icy smile. I let go of the handle, allowing Drew to lay the heavy suitcase flat on the floor. With a sharp click, the latches popped open.
The suitcase fell open to reveal a few basic trench coats and button-downs, alongside a pile of inexpensive toiletries.
There were no diamonds, no black cards, and certainly none of the corporate secrets they were paranoid about.
A flash of disappointment crossed Sarah's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a sneer of pure disdain.
"What a pathetic, penniless woman," she scoffed. "You stayed with Olaf for five years and don't even have a decent piece of jewelry to show for it."
She intentionally raised her hand, allowing the dazzling light to catch the bone ring resting on her ring finger. It was the ancestral ring of my mother—the sacred token reserved exclusively for the matriarch of the pack.
Yesterday, Olaf had taken it from me under the guise of having it professionally cleaned, only to place it on Sarah's hand today.
My eyes lingered on the bone ring for a fraction of a second before I looked away.
"Am I clear to leave now?" I asked, snapping the latches shut and pulling the handle back up.
Olaf knit his brows, visibly annoyed by my complete lack of tears or hysteria.
He had grown fat on my obedience, entirely used to me running myself ragged for the good of the conglomerate, and even more accustomed to me bowing my head in his presence.
"Augusta, do you really have to throw a tantrum right now?" Olaf asked, reaching out to grab me by the chin.
I tilted my head, easily dodging his hand.
His fingers caught nothing but empty air, so his face instantly turned thunderous.
"I ordered you to move to the basement strictly to ensure Sarah has the absolute best environment for her pregnancy," Olaf said. "You're a useless mate who can't even breed a pup, so what right do you have to throw an attitude at me?"
The surrounding werewolves erupted into a wave of mocking laughter.
"Mr. Blackwood is absolutely right. A woman who can't produce an heir should have been thrown out a long time ago."
"Mr. Blackwood is being entirely too merciful by even letting her stay down in the basement to work as a cook."
"I'll put down a cool ten million dollars that this woman won't even last the night. I bet she'll be back before dawn, crying like a pathetic lapdog and begging Mr. Blackwood to let her back inside."
A burly werewolf with heavy jowls bellowed, slapping a hefty check onto a nearby table.
"I'll match that with twenty million dollars," another shouted. "Without the protection of Mr. Blackwood's Alpha scent to shield her, the rogues out there will tear her to bloody ribbons within hours."