On the night of her birthday, Audrey cooked a full feast—venison stew, root vegetables, fresh bread still warm from the hearth. She set the dishes out on the table and waited, ears flicking toward every sound, glancing now and then at the clock on the wall.
Her mate, Rowan Blackthorne, was supposed to bring their son home. Fen had been staying with Rowan's mother, Elder Sylvia. Audrey wanted her pack—her family—together that night.
When everything was finally ready, her phone buzzed.
"I'm staying late at the office," Rowan said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I won't be home."
"Rowan, today is my—"
He hung up.
The dead tone hummed against her ear. Audrey's chest ached with a hollow, familiar hurt.
She had only wanted to tell him it was her birthday. She had hoped that after six nights of constant work, he might spend just one with her. Just one.
Before she could swallow the disappointment, the ground trembled. A violent boom shook the building, sending her instincts screaming. The lights blinked out, plunging everything into darkness.
When Audrey opened her eyes again, fire crackled around her. Pain tore through her leg—something heavy had crushed it. A storage cabinet lay across her shin, pinning her in place. Smoke thickened the air, burning her throat.
She clawed for her phone, hands shaking, and dialed Rowan.
"The number you've reached is unavailable. Please try again later."
Why wasn't he answering?
By some miracle, firefighters hauled Audrey from the flames. Only then did she learn that a ruptured gas line on the floor below had caused the explosion. Her skin was scorched in patches, and her leg—her good running leg—was broken.
As the medics loaded her into the ambulance, she heard a furious voice outside.
"My mate is hurt! Get her inside now!"
Rowan?
Wasn't he supposed to be at work?
Audrey forced her eyes open. Rowan stood beneath the streetlights, wild-eyed, shouting at the medics—holding someone in his arms.
A woman.
He clutched her like she was the moon itself, as though she were about to fall from the sky.
In eight years of marriage, Audrey had never seen him that frantic.
Beside him, Fen sobbed. "Please help my mom! She's hurt!"
A medic answered, "Sir, we prioritize the most serious injuries. This woman is critical. She must go first."
"Rowan, it hurts," the woman whispered, burying her face into his chest.
Rowan's expression darkened as he tightened his hold on her. "No one is more important than my mate!"
Fen cried harder, torn between them. "Help my mom! Don't be scared, Mom. We'll go to the healer soon."
Another medic stepped forward. "Mr. Blackclaw, we can arrange transport for both families. What floor do you live on?"
"Building Ten. Thirty-second floor."
"And the injured woman inside lives on the twenty-fourth floor, just beneath yours. You can ride together if needed."
Audrey froze.
Her blood ran cold.
Rowan had another home—in the same building, eight floors above hers.
And Fen—the pup she had carried for nine months, raised, protected—was clinging to another woman, calling her "Mom."
Her breath shattered. Audrey swung herself off the stretcher, ignoring the agony, and stared at the three of them, her voice flat.
"Give them the ambulance."
Rowan and Fen turned, eyes wide.
They hadn't realized she was the one already inside.
And now, with nothing hiding it, Audrey saw the woman's face clearly.
Lisa Stone. The housekeeper's daughter.
Years ago, Rowan's parents had forbidden him from choosing her, saying she wasn't worthy of the Blackthorne line. They had forced them apart.
He met Audrey afterward. Chose her. Or so she had thought.
Rowan stood silent, jaw tight. After a moment, he muttered, "Lisa's hurt. I'll explain later."
He didn't look at Audrey again as he carried Lisa into the ambulance.
Fen glanced at Audrey once—only once—before following them without hesitation.
…
Half an hour later, Audrey lay in a hospital bed, overhearing the pack doctor's whisper.
Lisa had only a few scratches. Yet Rowan acted as though she were dying, dragging the emergency healer from other patients and insisting she be treated first.
Some nurses giggled, saying Lisa was lucky to have a male so devoted.
Lucky.
Audrey looked at her burned hands, her broken leg, her wreck of a state. A humorless laugh scraped up her throat.
She wheeled herself down the corridor, searching for her mate and son.
Before she found them, voices drifted from a half-open door.
"Rowan, Audrey's here too," Lisa murmured. "Aren't you going to check on her?"
Rowan's reply was cold enough to frost the air.
"Lisa… you are Fen's true mother. No one matters more. I made sure Audrey's daughter wouldn't survive—so she'd raise yours instead. My Lisa is a moon-blessed princess. You deserve a peaceful life. Audrey is fine—only minor injuries. You're the one who matters."
Lisa's soft laugh floated out. "Rowan, I love you."
Audrey's world snapped in two.
Fen wasn't hers.
And Rowan—Rowan had killed her pup.
Their pup.
Her heart howled inside her chest.
All those nights she had held Fen through fevers, all the stories, the lullabies, the love—none of it had ever truly been hers.
Eight years.
She had been nothing but a stand-in. A caretaker. A convenient female to raise the child of the woman Rowan truly loved.
Audrey didn't remember returning to her room. She lay there, numb, wishing she could tear the memories from her mind.
She had never even seen her daughter's face.
The door opened. Rowan walked in, expression blank. "I just finished everything and came to check on you."
A bitter laugh slipped from Audrey.
"You should check on Lisa, not me."
His brows creased, annoyed. "Audrey, what's with this tone? I simply brought Lisa here. Why are you acting petty? She's like a little sister to me."
Sister. The "sister" he had a child with.
How shameless.
Fen burst in, eyes flashing. "Mom! Why are you mad at Dad? Lisa is my godmother! Dad did nothing wrong! You're just being mean!"
So to him, Audrey was the villain.
"Of course I don't blame you," Audrey whispered. "Do what you want with Lisa. I'm stepping aside. Let's divorce."
Rowan's eyes hardened. "You're overreacting. I apologized. Isn't that enough?"
Enough—as if a cheap apology could replace the pup he had stolen from her.
Tears spilled as Audrey thought of the daughter she had lost because of him.
If she had never saved Rowan all those years ago…
When he saw her tears, his anger softened. He reached out and touched her hair gently. "Audrey, don't overthink. Lisa's father works for us. That's why I helped her. You're upset. Once you calm down, we'll talk again."
Fen muttered sharply, "Mom, Lisa asked about you. You're the one being unreasonable. You always poke me with your needles, force Dad to drink your bitter brews. Your cooking tastes awful. Lisa cooks better!"
He stomped the floor. "If only you were half as good as her!"
His words sliced deep.
He didn't know the needles eased his weaknesses, or that the "soup" was medicine for Rowan's stomach.
He didn't know.
But Rowan did.
And he let Fen blame Audrey anyway.