Bree POV: I tapped my phone screen, and the harsh glare sliced through the dark living room of the Blackwood estate. An anonymous text popped up with a video attachment. My breath caught in my throat. The camera footage shook slightly, but I knew that broad back anywhere. It was my husband, Ashton Harris. In the video, his long fingers were fastening a glowing moonstone necklace around another woman's bare neck. My stomach dropped. That exact necklace was from the private auction catalog I had left open on our nightstand for our third mating anniversary today. Now, the pale blue stone rested against someone else's collarbone. The woman in the video turned her head halfway toward the lens. Her face was blurry, yet the way she tilted her chin and drooped her shoulders was a deliberate mockery of my usual posture. Acid rose in the back of my throat, and my stomach churned. I stood up so fast my vision blurred. The phone slipped from my sweaty palm, hitting the thick rug with a dull thud. My knees trembled under my own weight. Outside the tall windows, a heavy V8 engine roared up the private driveway. Headlights swept across the walls. Ashton's custom black SUV had just pulled in. Panic jolted through my veins. I dropped to my knees, snatched the phone off the carpet, and pressed delete with white-knuckled fingers until the screen went blank. Heavy, measured footsteps echoed in the foyer. A second later, the sharp, cold scent of cedarwood rolled into the room, carrying the suffocating pressure of a pureblood Alpha. In our world, genes dictated everything, and Ashton stood at the very top of the hierarchy as the billionaire CEO of Blackwood Pack Enterprise. He pushed the living room doors open. His dark gray eyes cut through the shadows and locked onto me, his brows drawing together. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" His deep voice carried a trace of exhaustion. He shrugged off his bespoke suit jacket and tossed it over the arm of the sofa. Three years of a secret, unacknowledged marriage, and he still treated this house like a hotel. I forced my shaking hands to still, walked to the wall, and flipped the switch. The crystal chandelier flared to life, exposing the ten feet of cold floor between us. "I just woke up from a nap. I didn't get around to it." I kept my tone flat and stared at the knot of his tie instead of his eyes. He stepped closer. His six-foot-three frame cast a long shadow over me as he raised a hand to touch my cheek. I flinched and turned my head away before his fingertips could brush my skin. The air between us went dead silent. Ashton's hand froze in midair. Irritation flashed across his gray eyes before he slowly lowered his arm to his side. "Was the company busy today?" I changed the subject, my gaze catching on a faint crease near his collar. "Yeah. A few Pack defense projects hit a snag." He tugged his tie loose, his answer clipped, and looked past my shoulder toward the bar. I pulled in a slow breath. My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. "I saw a charge from the auction house on our joint account for a moonstone necklace." I looked straight into his eyes, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you buy that for me for our anniversary?" Ashton's hand stopped on his collar. His jaw clenched hard, and the cedarwood scent in the room turned sharp and defensive. "That was..." He paused for a beat, a shadow crossing his gaze. "That was for Gamma Carter." "Carter?" The single word left my lips like a piece of ice. Whatever pathetic hope I had left shattered on the spot. "His mate's birthday is next month. He asked me to source it through RF Syndicate's private channel." Ashton's voice leveled out, taking on the cold, unquestionable authority of an Alpha who expected to be obeyed. I stared at his handsome, expressionless face and felt like I was looking at a total stranger. The corners of my mouth pulled into a bitter curve. "I see." I lowered my lashes to hide the dead emptiness in my blue eyes. As he turned toward the master bathroom, my hand drifted down to rest over my flat stomach. Five weeks pregnant with his pureblood pup, and I knew right then I would take this secret to my grave. Ashton POV: Watching Bree stare at the floor with her lashes lowered set my teeth on edge. Inside my head, my Dire Wolf paced and let out a low, restless growl. Lying to her wasn't part of the plan. But Charlize had just returned from overseas in a fragile state after breaking her previous engagement. Giving Charlize that necklace was the fastest way to calm her down, and I owed that much to my stepmother, Esther. Bree was a wolfless. Born without an inner wolf gene, she couldn't shift, couldn't access the Pack Mind-Link, and couldn't survive the vicious politics of our boardroom. Keeping her in the dark was the only way to protect her. I turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the heavy door behind me. I needed cold water to wash away the strange tightness in my chest.

Bree POV: I stood outside the closed bathroom door listening to the shower run, my hand still pressed against my stomach. Out of nowhere, a vicious cramp twisted through my lower belly. I doubled over with a gasp, wrapping both arms around my waist as cold sweat soaked the back of my blouse. The Pack Doctor had warned me yesterday that my stress levels were causing threatened miscarriage symptoms. The thought of losing this tiny life terrified me more than Ashton's lies ever could. Biting the inside of my lip, I straightened up and hurried down the hall into the guest bathroom, locking the door behind me. I dropped to my knees and pulled open the bottom drawer beneath the sink, reaching all the way to the back for a brown paper packet. I tore it open and chewed the dried, bitter herbs raw, swallowing them without water. Within seconds, the pungent herbal odor seeped through my pores, masking the faint, milky scent of my pregnancy pheromones. Gripping the marble counter, I splashed cold water onto my pale face until my breathing slowed. When I walked back into the master bedroom, Ashton had just stepped out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist. Drops of water trailed down the hard ridges of his abs. He looked up at me. Under the dim wall sconces, his gray eyes darkened, and the heavy scent of cedarwood thickened in the air. I looked away, walked to the far side of the king-sized bed, and slipped under the covers with my back turned to him. The mattress dipped under his weight. A moment later, Ashton slid in behind me, pressing his hot, bare chest flush against my spine. He crowded closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck and inhaling deeply against my skin. Every muscle in my body locked up. My fingers twisted into the bedsheets, terrified he would catch the scent of his unborn child beneath the herbs. "You smell like bitter roots tonight." He frowned against my skin, his warm lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I drank some herbal tea earlier to ward off a chill." My voice came out tight as I inched closer to the edge of the mattress. His large hand clamped around my waist, and in one fluid motion, he flipped me onto my back and pinned me beneath him. "Bree, it's our anniversary." His voice dropped to a rough rasp, thick with the primal heat that hit male werewolves near their mates. He lowered his head to kiss me. His hot breath washed over my face, and the sheer physical dominance of an Alpha pressed down on my chest until my lungs burned for air. Another dull ache pulsed in my lower belly. I planted both hands against his hard pecs and shoved with everything I had. "I really don't feel well tonight. I think I caught a cold." I turned my face into the pillow, letting his lips graze my jaw instead. Ashton went rigid above me. The heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flash of cold anger. No Alpha liked being rejected in his own bed, especially not by a weak wolfless wife. The invisible pressure of his Dominion flared in the room, making the air heavy. "Suit yourself." He bit out the two words, rolled off me, and yanked a dark silk robe over his shoulders. Watching his broad back as he walked away made my chest ache as if an invisible fist were squeezing my heart, yet I kept my hand curled protectively over my belly under the blanket. He stopped by the floor-to-ceiling window and flicked open a custom platinum lighter. A sharp click echoed in the dark room as the flame lit the tip of his cigarette. Through the curling smoke, the moonlight caught the pale, circular burn scars on the inner side of his left wrist—old marks from the times he had lost control of his temper and pressed lit cigarettes into his own skin. The bedroom fell into a suffocating silence, broken only by the ticking clock on the wall. After a few minutes, he crushed the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray, turned on his heel, and strode out of the master suite. Down the hall, the guest bedroom door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the glass frames. I lay alone in the cold bed, clutching a spare packet of pregnancy herbs under my pillow. Suddenly, a breeze from the AC vent carried a whiff of cloying, sweet floral perfume from the suit jacket he had left on the chair—the unmistakable scent of another female werewolf.

Bree POV: I opened my eyes in the cold master bed as harsh morning light spilled across the floor, my fingers still cramped around the crumpled packet of herbs. Pushing the covers back, I walked into the dressing room. As I passed Ashton's discarded suit jacket, that sweet, artificial floral scent hit my nose again, stronger than before. I pulled on a tailored charcoal pantsuit and buttoned a high-collared silk blouse all the way up to my throat, hiding the simple moonstone pendant I had worn every day since our wedding. As I walked down the grand staircase, a light, musical laugh floated up from the first-floor living room. My shoes froze on the marble step. I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Sitting on the cream sofa was a petite woman in an expensive silk dress, sipping coffee and chatting warmly with our housekeeper, Mrs. Foster. The exact same sweet floral perfume filled my nostrils, matching the jacket upstairs and the blurry figure from last night's video. At the sound of my heels, the woman turned her head. Beneath her delicate makeup, a spark of pure triumph flashed in her light amber eyes. "Good morning, Bree." Charlize Harris stood up and smoothed the front of her designer skirt. I stared at her coldly, my gaze dropping to her bare collarbone. The necklace from the video wasn't there. "What are you doing in my house?" I stepped off the last stair, my voice stripped of any warmth. "I just flew back into the country and wanted to check on Ashton. And..." She dragged the word out, reaching into her limited-edition handbag to pull out a dark blue velvet box. "I came to give this back to you." She popped the lid open. Inside, the auction-grade moonstone necklace gleamed against the black satin lining. Looking at that stone made my stomach turn over. The image of Ashton's fingers fastening it around her neck played behind my eyes again. "Ashton insisted on giving it to me last night to celebrate my return," Charlize said, her voice dripping with fake innocence. "Everyone knows he only tolerates this marriage because my mother saved his life, so he spoils me like a real princess. But when I heard you liked this piece, I couldn't bear to keep it." I let out a short, cold laugh. Instead of reaching for the box, I folded my arms across my chest. "If he gave it to you, keep it. I don't touch secondhand trash." Charlize's smile stiffened. A second later, she bit her lower lip, and tears welled up in her amber eyes on cue. "Bree, are you mad at me? I only see Ashton as an older brother..." She stepped forward, reaching out to grab my sleeve. I took half a step back to avoid her hand. Charlize gasped, jerked her arm back, and deliberately knocked over the glass of iced water sitting on the coffee table. The crystal tumbler hit the rug, splashing cold water across the back of her hand. She let out a sharp cry and cradled her wet wrist against her chest. "What happened?" Upstairs, the study door flew open. Ashton charged down the stairs, his cold Alpha aura rolling ahead of him like a storm front. He didn't even glance at me. He went straight to Charlize, catching her wrist in his large hand to inspect the wet skin. "I'm fine, Ashton. I just knocked the glass over by accident. Bree didn't mean to push me." Charlize leaned her weight against his chest, her voice trembling with a sob. Ashton whipped his head around, his dark gray eyes glaring at me with open accusation. "She came here out of kindness to bring you a gift. Why do you have to be so hostile?" His deep voice carried a sharp edge of Dominion that pressed against my eardrums. I stood my ground, watching the way his arm shielded her. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, chilling me to the bone. "I didn't lay a finger on her." I looked straight into his eyes, my voice dead calm. Explaining myself to a man who had already rendered his verdict was a waste of breath. Ashton's brows furrowed, clearly thrown off by my lack of tears or argument, yet he kept Charlize tucked securely against his side. "Mrs. Foster, take Charlize to the guest suite to dry off." He looked away from me, barking the order to the housekeeper. As Ashton guided a sniffling Charlize toward the hallway, I turned my back on both of them and walked down the opposite corridor toward his study. The heavy oak door was left slightly ajar. I pushed it open, and my eyes locked onto an official Pack Enterprise personnel transfer file sitting in the center of his desk.