Chapter 6
By the next morning, Vanessa had made herself even more comfortable.
I found her in my bathroom using my products as if she had lived there for years, my robe hanging from her shoulders and my jewelry box open on the counter with a gold bracelet in her hand.
She caught my reflection in the mirror, then turned to me with an easy smile.
“Oh, good morning.”
My wolf stirred at the sight of her wearing my things, but I kept my face calm.
“That bracelet is mine.” Vanessa looked down at it.
“I know.” She fastened it around her wrist.
“Andrew said you hardly ever wear it anyway.” I stared at the bracelet, then at her.
“That doesn't mean you can take it.” She raised her eyebrows.
“I thought it wouldn't be a problem.”
“Please ask before taking my things.”
For a second, she looked almost surprised. Then she gave a small laugh.
“You don't mind sharing, do you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
Her smile disappeared for a moment. Then she looked at me through the mirror again.
“You're very territorial for someone who keeps insisting you're not jealous.”
I didn't answer.
There was no point. Anything I said would only give her another excuse to twist my words.
I took my robe from the hook and walked out. I could still smell her perfume behind me.
By breakfast, Vanessa had somehow found another way to make herself at home.
She was wearing one of Andrew's shirts.
She sat at the kitchen island with her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone while my things surrounded her. One of my mugs sat beside her. My silk robe was hanging over the back of a chair, and the bracelet she had taken from my jewelry box was still around her wrist.
My wolf caught her scent everywhere, in the bathroom, on my clothes, around my jewelry, and even in the kitchen where I had spent countless mornings making breakfast for Andrew.
I stood there for a moment, realizing she wasn't just staying for a few days. She was making herself comfortable in ever
I couldn't keep telling myself it was temporary when Andrew seemed perfectly comfortable with it.
When Andrew finally arrived, I waited until he finished his coffee before following him into his office.
“I need to talk to you.” He barely looked up from his phone.
“About what?” I closed the door behind me.
“About boundaries.”
That got his attention. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Boundaries?”
“Vanessa has been using my bathroom. She's wearing my clothes and taking my jewelry without asking.”
Andrew sighed and set his phone down, giving me his full attention.
“She’s a guest, Samantha.”
“I know that, but she can still respect my things.” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Her apartment is ruined.”
“I understand that too. That’s why I didn’t say anything when you decided it was best for her to stay here.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He asked, irritation written all over his face despite his attempt to hide it.
I took a breath.
“The problem is that this is our home. I shouldn't have to ask permission to use my own bathroom or worry about someone taking my belongings.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair and looked at me as if he couldn't understand why I was making an issue out of it.
“You’re being petty.” I took a slow breath before answering. “It’s not about a necklace.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Respect.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. “Are you really going to do this because you’re jealous?”
I held his gaze. “I’m not jealous.”
“You’re acting like you are.”
“I just want to be treated like I matter.”
His expression hardened, and the patience he had been forcing seemed to disappear.
“Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
“I’m asking for basic boundaries, Andrew.” He stared at me for a moment before answering.
“And I’m telling you to grow up.”
The words stayed between us.
I looked at him, waiting for something else. An apology. An explanation. Anything that might tell me he understood why this hurt.
Nothing came.
My wolf reacted to the contempt in his voice, but I kept my hands at my sides, and when Vanessa appeared in the doorway, the faint satisfaction on her face told me she had heard enough, so I walked out without another word.
Later that afternoon, I found her in the living room with a stack of my clothes beside her on the sofa, and she looked up as soon as I entered.
“Samantha.” I stopped.
“Can you take these upstairs?”
I stared at the clothes. “They're your clothes?”
“No.”
She pointed toward the stairs.
“Yours.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“I'd rather use this room for my things.”
My wolf gave a low warning inside me, but I ignored it.
“You can move them yourself.”
Her expression changed.
“Andrew said you would help me.”
I almost laughed. Of course he had.
Before I could answer, another voice came from behind me.
“She’s the Luna of this pack. She has a choice, and you have no right to make that choice for her.”
I turned and found Elliot standing near the doorway, his expression calm but his voice firm enough to silence the room.
Vanessa looked at him.
“I didn't mean anything by it.”
“You still gave her an order.” Vanessa folded her arms.
“I only asked for help.” Elliot's gaze stayed on her.
Elliot's Alpha presence settled over the room, controlled but impossible for another werewolf to ignore. Vanessa fell silent as he turned his attention to me.
“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
His eyes moved to the clothes beside Vanessa.
Then back to her.
“Move them yourself.”
Vanessa scoffed.
“This isn't your business.” Elliot's jaw tightened.
“You're right.” He looked at me.
“But it isn't hers either.”
Then he walked away, leaving me standing there for a moment as I watched him disappear down the hallway.
My wolf relaxed a little, not because Elliot had solved anything, but because he had reminded me of something I had almost forgotten, I could say no. I always copuld.
That evening, I stopped trying to make the packhouse feel like home.
I opened the closet and, after standing there for a moment, started packing my clothes, photographs, camera, a few books, the jewelry Vanessa hadn't taken, and the small things that still belonged to me.
Things I had brought into this marriage before I had slowly started making everything about Andrew.
I folded everything carefully into the suitcase without crying or even feeling the need to, because I was simply tired, while the wedding dress stayed untouched in the closet where I left it.
It hung exactly where it had been for two years, untouched and protected inside its garment bag.
I looked at the dress for a moment, remembering when I thought it meant a new life, but now it was just a dress. I closed the closet, zipped my suitcase, and looked around the bedroom, realizing how much of my two years had been spent waiting and making excuses.
Two years of telling myself that if I was patient enough, Andrew would eventually look at me and see his wife instead of someone who simply happened to be standing beside him.
I picked up my suitcase and walked downstairs to the kitchen, where the pendant lights above the island were the only source of light. I stopped there, remembering all the times I'd stood in that same kitchen cooking for Andrew.
Where I had waited for him.
Where I had eaten alone more nights than I wanted to remember.
I placed my suitcase beside the counter and looked down at my wedding ring, my fingers resting against it for a moment.
I had worn it through every argument, every lonely dinner, every time Andrew came home smelling like someone else's perfume.
I slowly pulled the ring from my finger, leaving the skin under it bare, then placed it in the center of the kitchen counter before taking a sheet of paper and a pen from the notepad.
My hand was steady as I wrote.
I'm leaving. I'll file for divorce.
-Samantha
I read the note once before placing it beside the ring, then picked up my suitcase and headed for the hallway without another thought.
I passed the living room, where the white orchids Vanessa had rearranged were beginning to wilt, and kept walking despite the faint trace of her perfume in the hallway and my things still mixed with hers in the open bathroom.
I didn't care anymore.
For two years, I had waited for Andrew to make me feel like his wife.
I had protected him when the pack questioned him, covered for his mistakes, stood beside him at events, smiled for photographs, and stayed because I believed our marriage was still worth saving.
But somewhere along the way, I had become the only one trying. I reached the front door, my suitcase rolling quietly behind me, and stepped into the cold air without waiting for Andrew to come home.
I wasn't waiting for him to choose me.
I wasn't waiting for Vanessa to leave.
I wasn't waiting for things to somehow become different.
I was leaving, and my wolf stayed quiet inside me, too tired to fight or ask me to turn around. I closed the door behind me, pulled my suitcase farther away, and walked on without looking back.