_Ivy's POV_ The scrub cap was still in my hand when my phone buzzed. A voice memo from Ophelia. "Mommy, do I have a daddy? Lily at school says everyone has one. Do I?" I stood alone in the scrub room, staring at the screen until it dimmed on its own. Seven years married to Theodore Woodrow, and I still hadn't found the words to tell him he had a daughter. It wasn't that I'd meant to keep it from him forever. It was that keeping it had always felt safer than the alternative. Our marriage wasn't from love. He'd said it plainly, before the ink on our marriage contract had even dried: he didn't want children with me. Not with a wolf as broken as mine. Born without a wolf's scent, the whole of Starfalls Pack believed the same thing-that I was a weak Omega who'd stumbled into the title of Luna by accident, unworthy of birthing an Alpha's heir. When I found out I was pregnant anyway, my doctor gave me only one useful piece of information: my body wouldn't survive a termination. Not without losing the chance at children forever. So I'd had the baby in secret, and left her in my best friend, Beryl's care, and told myself it was temporary. Five years and seven months of temporary. Ophelia would turn six in a few months. Old enough to ask questions I didn't have good answers for. I understood the ache in that voice memo better than she ever could. I just hadn't figured out how to say "your father is the Alpha of Starfalls Pack, and he doesn't know you exist" without breaking something that couldn't be put back together. My pager cut through the thought: Incoming trauma, ER bay three. I pocketed my phone and went back to work. I didn't expect to walk into the exam room and find my husband there. Theodore was standing by the gurney in his dark coat, one hand on the rail, watching the patient like she would disappear if he didn't. He stood tall, his dark hair styled neatly as usual. His face was calm, with his pale silver-grey eyes that I had spent seven years trying not to think too much about. They reminded me of Ophelia's. Those same eyes passed over me like I was part of the wall. That was when I saw who was on the gurney. Alexandra Cyrus. The woman he'd loved before me. The woman he'd never quite stopped loving, if the rumors were to be believed. She was lying with one hand on her stomach. The chart I was holding said she was eight weeks pregnant. She had mild cramping but no bleeding. "Be gentle with the exam," Theodore said, the way he might instruct a subordinate. "She's sensitive to pain." Something in my chest went very still, the way it does right before a wound starts bleeding. Seven years married, and he had never once asked what I was sensitive to. I held back my anger and pulled on my gloves, snapping them louder than I needed to. "I've been licensed for six years, Alpha. I know where a uterus is." Alexandra let out a soft, breathy laugh from the exam table, as if she found my answer charming. "I think she's teasing you, Theo." Theodore didn't react. He just stepped back, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, watching me with those pale gray eyes like I was a lab tech who'd become a minor inconvenience. I turned to Alexandra and began the exam. She watched me adjust the ultrasound, wearing that small, satisfied smile the whole time. "You know," she said, tilting her head, "Theo insisted on driving me here himself. I told him I could just take a car, but he wouldn't hear of it." "I promised I'd take care of you and the baby," Theodore said. The unguarded concern in his voice cut into me again. Alexandra pressed a hand to her mouth, giggling. "He's been like this ever since we found out. Anyone would think he was the one carrying." Theodore shifted, about to say something, but his phone rang. He gave Alexandra a small nod. "I'll take this outside. Call the nurse if you need anything." He didn't look at me once. The moment he was out of earshot, the fragility in Alexandra's face dropped away. "This must be strange for you," she said. I raised an eyebrow. She didn't back down. "Watching someone else give your husband something you never could. That can't feel good." My heart stopped short. What was she saying-that the baby was his? "Of course it's his," she added, as if she'd read my mind. "Everyone in the pack knows your marriage is just an arrangement. He's always loved me. In all the time I've been back, he's never really left." "I also heard your marriage was only ever a contract. I imagine you'll wish us well." I nearly lost control of my grip on the probe. "He told you our marriage has an expiration date?" I repeated it under my breath, something sharp twisting somewhere low in my chest. I pushed the feeling down, set the probe aside, and wiped the gel from my gloves, slow and deliberate. I looked up at Alexandra, "So, Ms. Cyrus. You got pregnant by my husband, knowing full well he was married. Do you know what that's called?" Her smile vanished. "If you hadn't gotten in the way, we'd have been married years ago." "Correction. You left him before he ever met me." I stood, signed the bottom of the chart, and closed the folder. "So don't try to paint me as something as low as you." "Whatever my marriage is, I haven't broken up anyone's family." "You, on the other hand, have." I glanced at her stomach. "That's the best evidence of it, right there." "Is this how you treat your patients? I'm filing a complaint!" she shouted after me. I didn't turn around. I ran into Theodore the second I stepped into the hallway. "What did you do? Can you not show a little consideration for a pregnant woman?" He hadn't even asked. He'd already decided I was guilty. "I'm considerate with every patient I treat. Apparently, Ms. Cyrus expects more than considerate, and that, I don't have." I pressed the chart into his chest. "If you're unhappy with my care, feel free to assign her a different doctor. I'm off shift." I moved to walk past him. He caught my arm, anger plain on his face. "Is this how you speak to your Alpha?" "Pulling rank now?" I glanced at his hand, then at him. "Then do you remember I'm your wife?" The hallway went quiet. A few nurses passing by slowed down, glancing between us, as if only now realizing I was Alpha Theodore's wife. The Luna of this pack. I'd never announced who I was at the hospital. Partly because I didn't want special treatment. Partly because Theodore had never wanted our marriage on display. His jaw tightened. "Don't turn this into something it isn't. You know our marriage is different." I pulled my arm free. "I haven't forgotten. The moment you paraded your mistress in front of me, I understood exactly how different it is." "She isn't my mistress!" "Then what is she?" I looked at him. He glared right back. Part of me wanted him to explain it all away-tell me it was some misunderstanding, that he hadn't gotten another woman pregnant while he was still married to me. I wanted it so badly it embarrassed me. Instead, he just stared at me, jaw tight. "A woman like you wouldn't understand." After a beat, he continued. "Just don't call her that again." Watching him rush to defend her like that, something in me stopped just stopped being angry. "If you don't want people calling her a mistress," I said, "then maybe the two of you should learn to keep your distance. Bring her in front of me again, and I can't promise you'll get another chance to see me." I turned and walked away. I didn't look back. Looking back at Theodore had never done me any good. * The parking lot was cold when I got there. I just sat in my car without starting it and stared at the steering wheel. My phone buzzed immediately, and I looked to see an incoming message from Beryl. "Don't cry before you look, okay? She was perfectly fine. She told her teacher her mama was her whole world." I opened the photo that followed. Ophelia's school had just wrapped up some kind of family day. Kids in the background clutched their parents' hands, balloons and streamers still scattered from the party. But at the end of the second table, Ophelia sat alone. She wore a yellow dress I didn't recognize-Beryl's doing, no doubt. Her dark hair was braided, and her hands were folded neatly on the table. Her eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, the way a child looks when she's already made peace with sitting in a room full of pairs. Beryl wasn't enough. My five-year-old needed both her parents. But her father was busy standing beside another woman, waiting for another child. I don't know how long I sat there in the dark before my phone lit up again. It was from Theodore. I stared at his name for three seconds before I opened it. One line. Theodore: Alexandra moves into the main house next Wednesday. The doctor says she needs rest. Have your things arranged. My finger froze above the screen. Next Wednesday. The date I'd rewritten a dozen times in my head. The day I'd finally worked up the nerve to give Ophelia her father. The same day. He was going to bring another woman into my house. I sat there, fingers gone cold, and read the message four times over. Ophelia in her yellow dress, sitting alone at that table, wouldn't leave me. I opened my calendar and found the reminder for next Wednesday to tell him the truth. I pressed delete.

_Ivy's POV_ I didn't sleep. Not for one minute. The front door didn't open until noon the next day. Theodore walked in still dressed in yesterday's clothes, his tie long gone, and headed straight past me toward the bedroom, already unbuttoning his shirt like I wasn't there. "We need to talk," I said. "I'm tired, Ivy." He didn't even slow down. "Not now." "Tired." I repeated the word back to him, letting it sit there between us. "You can stand watch at someone's bedside all night without complaint. But you can't spare your wife an hour." He stopped. Didn't turn around. "Don't make this into something it isn't." "I'm not making anything into anything." I kept my voice even, though my hands weren't. "I'm asking you a simple question. Is the baby yours?" "Ivy." His voice dropped, warning. "I'm not doing this with you tonight." He didn't explain. He didn't even try. I looked at him-really looked at him, the way you look at someone you're about to stop recognizing-and something from last night surfaced, uninvited. In the hospital corridor, he'd said it without thinking, the words slipping out before he could catch them: "A woman like you wouldn't understand." Seven years. I'd swallowed seven years of that. Seven years of telling myself he was an Alpha, that the weight on his shoulders wasn't mine to resent, that his silence wasn't a verdict on me. But last night, the voice he'd used with Alexandra-soft, careful, like she was something breakable-hadn't belonged to the man I married. He wasn't incapable of it. He'd simply never chosen to give it to me. I lifted my eyes to his. "Then let's get a divorce." Something dark moved behind his eyes. "What did you just say?" "I said-" I didn't get to finish the word a second time. His hand closed around my throat before I even saw him move, pinning me back against the wall. Not hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make sure I understood exactly how powerful he could be. "You clawed your way into my bed," he said, low and even, like he was stating a fact I'd forgotten. "You used a marriage to trap me. You don't get to be the one who decides when it's over." My vision blurred at the edges. I couldn't tell anymore if it was from the lack of air or from how long I'd waited for him to touch me like this-like I mattered enough to hold onto. Then his phone rang. He looked down. Alexandra. Everything in him unclenched at once. His hand fell away like it had never been there, and he was already straightening his collar, turning for the door, gone before he'd even left the room. I caught my breath and asked the question before I could stop myself. "If we had a child-would any of this be different?" He paused at the door, not quite looking back. "Don't fool yourself." His voice went colder than before. "Even if you were pregnant, I wouldn't claim it as mine. You know exactly how careful I've always been. You'll never get the chance to carry my child." The door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame. His words had already done the damage, sinking in deeper than the sound ever could. I'd asked the question, wanting an answer. Now I understood I'd really asked it to finally let go. Theodore Woodrow had never once considered me his wife. Not really. I caught my reflection in the standing mirror across the room and barely recognized the woman looking back. God. How had I let him do this to me for seven years? I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and crossed to the dresser. I pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, pushing aside scarves I'd never once worn, until my fingers found the manila envelope pressed beneath them. Divorce papers. Seven years ago, his father-Elliot Woodrow, the former Alpha-had a lawyer draw these up just to talk Theodore into the marriage in the first place. Theodore had signed his name the very night of our wedding. My line had stayed blank ever since. No one had mentioned the papers again after Elliot passed six months ago. I'd let myself believe that meant something-that maybe there was still a future worth waiting for. Now I knew better. He'd never needed the papers to remind me where I stood. He had a hundred other ways to do that, a hundred other ways to make sure I never forgot I wasn't the wife he'd chosen. I sat down at the edge of the bed. And I signed my name. My phone lit up before the ink had even dried. A voice memo from Ophelia. I opened it, and her voice came through, "Good day, Mama. I know you had a night shift. I hope you had a good sleep. I had a dream about you. We were at the beach playing and laughing loudly. I like it when you laugh." "Mommy, I miss you. When are you coming to see me?" The tears came before I could stop them. I sat there on the edge of a bed that had never really been mine, and it finally hit me-all the years I'd wasted trying to earn a place beside a man who never once made room for me. Years I could have spent watching my daughter grow up instead. I wiped my face and called Beryl. "I'm leaving him," I said, before she could even say hello. "What?" Beryl's voice sharpened instantly. "Ivy, I thought you were finally going to tell him about Ophelia. What happened?" "Alexandra's pregnant. Theodore's moving her into the main house." I kept it short because if I let myself say more, I wasn't sure I'd get through it. "There's nothing left to tell him." Silence, then something hard and furious came through the line. "That absolute bastard-" Beryl caught herself. "Good. Leave him. You should've left years ago." "Beryl-" "I mean it. My brother's been trying to poach you for the Bloodmoon Pack for over a year now. You saved his mate's life, Ivy. Nadia would've died in that delivery room if you hadn't been there. He'd take you on in a heartbeat, and he'd take Ophelia too." I closed my eyes, something in my chest loosening for the first time all night. Not every pack would open its doors to a divorced Luna-word traveled fast, and most Alphas didn't want the complications that came with taking in a woman who'd walked away from another pack's leader. It wasn't easy to find somewhere safe for a mother and a daughter no one was supposed to know existed. Beryl's offer was more than kindness. It was a door I hadn't let myself hope for. "I'd love to come," I said. "I mean it. I just need a little time to think it through. I don't want to-" "It's alright, we can talk it over when you're here," Beryl said gently. "When are you thinking of coming?" "Tomorrow," I said, before I could talk myself out of it. "I'll come see you both tomorrow. We can figure everything out then." "Okay." A pause, her voice softening. "Get some rest, Ivy." I hung up and sat alone in the quiet. The signed papers were still lying on the bed beside me, and I looked down at them. For seven years, I'd kept them hidden at the bottom of a drawer, buried under scarves I never wore, as if not seeing them meant the marriage still had a chance. Now they were signed. There was nothing left to hide. I set them on the nightstand instead, out in the open, where anyone could see them. Then I let out a long breath-the kind that felt like the first real one I'd taken in seven years.

_Ivy's POV_ I packed quickly. It didn't take long-seven years in this house, and I still had almost nothing to show for it. A few boxes of clothes, some books, and the photo of my mother I kept in the nightstand drawer. That was the whole of my life here. I was halfway down the stairs, suitcase in hand, when I saw Grace,Theodore's mother, sitting on the living room couch, waiting. A cup of tea balanced in her hand, her eyes moving slowly from my face to the suitcase and back again. The corner of her mouth lifted, just slightly. She wasn't here by accident. She was waiting for me. "Down so late," she said, setting the cup aside. "I half expected you to hide up there until dark." She didn't wait for an answer. She kept going, like she'd rehearsed every word of it beforehand. "I've told you before, that hospital job was never suitable. A married woman, spending her days in an emergency room like some common girl with nothing better to do." "Well, now's the perfect time to fix it. Alexandra's moving in to rest," she took a sip of her tea and looked at me, "and you'll quit and stay home to look after her properly." I stared at her, certain for a moment that I'd misheard. "You want me to be her nurse." "I want you to be useful," Grace said. "For once." "No." I picked my suitcase back up. "Find someone else." Her face hardened instantly. "This is exactly the attitude that's kept you barren all these years. No wonder Theodore's never managed to give this family an heir with you." She let that sit, watching for the wound to land. "You should be thanking Alexandra, not sulking like a jealous child. She's doing what you never could. Do you have any idea how many years Theodore has been laughed at because of your empty womb?" Something in me went very still and very cold. "Theodore was the one who didn't want children," I said, quiet and level. "He said so the week we married. And somehow, seven years later, that's become my failure." "Well, whose fault is it, then?" Grace's voice sharpened. "If you'd known how to keep your husband's affections, none of this would have happened." "Alexandra's barely been back a few months, and already she's pregnant." She tilted her head, feigning pity. "And meanwhile, you couldn't manage it in seven years. Anyone could tell who is useless." I stood on the bottom step, my fingers tightening around the suitcase handle until they hurt. For one second, I wanted to hurl it straight at the floor. But that would only make my exit messier than it needed to be. I let my grip loosen and walked past her instead. "Wait," Grace's voice stopped me, imperious as ever. "Before you go, run to the market. Alexandra needs proper nutrition. I've made a list." I turned back to look at her. "A minute ago, you accused me of jealousy. Now you're handing me an errand where I'd have every opportunity to poison her food. Aren't you worried?" Grace's face went rigid for a moment, then eased back into a sneer. "You wouldn't dare. Lay one finger on her, and Theodore will tear you apart with his own hands." "Then by all means, try me." Her mouth twitched, but she brushed past it. "Stop being clever. You know you'd never risk it." "Alexandra's carrying a boy. I'm certain of it. The heir this pack has been waiting for." Her chin lifted. "Harm him, and every wolf in this territory will hunt you down." Something in that sentence caught my attention immediately. "What if it's a girl?" "How could it be?" Grace said, as if the very idea offended her. "My son's first child will not be a girl. Starfalls has never had a female Alpha, and it never will. That won't change. Not ever." The certainty in her voice landed harder than she probably intended. Ophelia's face flashed in front of me, and for once I was almost grateful she wasn't here to hear this. Grace, mistaking my silence for surrender, seemed ready to lecture me further when an Omega servant appeared at the doorway. "Ma'am, sorry to interrupt-it's the nursery. The mobile above the crib, we have two options, and I can't decide which one Miss Cyrus would prefer. Could you come take a look?" Grace let out a short, irritated breath. "Honestly, must I decide everything myself?" She was already moving toward the door, smoothing her sleeve as she went. At the threshold, she turned back just long enough to fix me with a final look. "You'd do well to listen to me, Ivy. Or I'll make sure you regret it." I barely watched her go. I was too busy sitting with the thought that had just settled cold and certain in my chest-even if I told this family the truth about Ophelia right now, she would never be treated fairly under this roof. Not as a girl. I looked around at the house, at everyone rushing to prepare a nursery for the woman who'd walked into my marriage and never once had to answer for it. It was almost funny how much effort they were putting into welcoming her in. Almost funny, and almost a relief-because it meant I no longer had to wonder whether I was making the right choice. I bent down, picked up my suitcase, and pushed open the door. I didn't look back. . . . _Author's POV_ The meeting had run hours over. By the time Theodore walked through the front door, his tie was loosened and his patience thinner than usual. He stopped two steps into the living room. The curtains were gone-replaced with something pink and gold, edged in lace that hadn't been there yesterday. The couch had a matching throw draped over it, delicate and entirely wrong for a room he'd never once thought needed changing. "Who ordered this?" he asked. The Omega servant near the staircase flinched slightly at being addressed. "Mrs. Woodrow, sir. Grace." She paused and continued carefully, "She said the previous décor was chosen by Luna Ivy, and given that-given seven years without a child-she thought it best not to risk any bad luck for Miss Cyrus and her baby. So she had it all replaced." Theodore opened his mouth. He wanted to say that seven years without a child wasn't something that could be pinned on one person. But arguing with his mother only ever bought him a longer lecture, so he pressed two fingers against his brow instead and let it go. "Keep the nursery items to the first floor," he said. "Leave the second floor as it is." He climbed the stairs, and something felt off before he could name it. The hallway carried a scent that was almost too faint to register-Ivy's, always so thin it barely registered as an Omega's at all-and tonight it was fainter still, like it was already fading out of the walls. He passed her door. It was half open. Her old coat still hung on the rack inside. Her things were still scattered across the vanity, same as always. But something in the room had changed, and it took him a second to place it. The framed photo on the nightstand had been turned face-down. Their wedding photo. He remembered the day clearly-how he'd stood there expressionless through the entire shoot, how the photographer had practically begged him to move a muscle. He'd always thought the photo looked staged, fake, two people performing something neither of them felt. But he'd never once considered throwing it away. Now it lay flat against the wood, like someone had turned it over on purpose. He stopped in the doorway. His eyes stayed on the frame for a beat longer than he meant them to. Some part of him thought about walking in and setting it upright again. Then he told himself that was ridiculous-it was a photograph, nothing more, not worth the thought he was giving it. He looked away. And his Beta reached him through the mind-link before he'd taken a single step. 'Alpha, the northern border patrol's flagged something. Need you downstairs.' He didn't look back a second time. She'd probably knocked it over cleaning, he told himself, and forgotten to set it right. Or she'd flipped it on purpose, some small act of spite meant for him to find later. Either way, it could wait until she came home. He didn't ask where she was. He didn't need to. Whether she was on shift or pulling an overnight at the hospital, she always came back. She always had. It had never occurred to him that he might need to keep track of her comings and goings. Why would it? Downstairs, Grace's voice carried through the house, directing servants to move furniture from one room to another, every sound in the house rearranging itself to make room for someone new. Theodore switched on the light in his study and let the noise fade into the background, one more thing he didn't need to think about tonight. He didn't notice that at the far end of the second-floor hallway, the last trace of Ivy's scent was already gone.