Chapter 1

Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him.

The next day, I overheard him on the patio, taking a call:

"It was just a one-night stand. Marry her? You've got to be kidding. Just give her some money and send her packing."

I didn't cry or make a scene.

I got dressed, went home, and dragged out the box filled with eight years of memories.

Stolen photos, movie ticket stubs, a button he'd lost—everything went straight into a black trash bag.

As the garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Later, that same man who said "just give her some money and send her packing" was impaled through the back by a scorching steel pipe, saving me.

He held me, covered in blood, and whispered a secret:

"Actually… I'm a werewolf, which is why I had to push you away. But now, I regret it."

Emma Johnson pov

Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him.

It was unexpected, absurd, yet somehow, perfectly natural.

I woke up at six in the morning.

It had rained all night in London.

I picked up my clothes from the floor and went into the bathroom to shower.

My reflection in the mirror showed hickeys all over my body, and a clear tooth mark just above my collarbone.

As I leaned closer to examine it, I heard movement outside.

Liam was awake, on the phone.

Through the half-open glass door, his voice was deep and husky, carrying the lazy drawl of after-sex.

"I drank too much last night, didn't even see who it was."

The person on the other end was probably one of his friends, teasing him. Liam lit a cigarette, his tone so indifferent it was almost cold.

"Who told you to drug her? Don't use those tactics again."

A cloud of smoke curled around him, and he paused, a hint of annoyance in his voice:

"I didn't just mark her, last night was her first time… What do you want me to do? Take her to a formal mate ceremony before the Moongoddess?"

A scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous. The Elder Council would never allow me to marry a mere human… Yeah, yeah, a lot of them can't find their fated mate, but I'm an Alpha."

"I'll figure out the mark issue. As for compensation… you can give her a card later, she can fill in any amount she wants. Enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Consider it settling eight years of acquaintance."

My hand, halfway buttoning my shirt, froze.

Blood rushed away from my head, my limbs turning cold, so much so that the strange parts of his words were instinctively ignored.

To him, my eight years of careful companionship, that one night of passion, could only be quantified into a cold string of numbers.

And topped off with, "Don't be ridiculous."

I didn't cry.

I showered swiftly, got dressed, and quietly left the villa that had imprisoned my youth.

Back home, my father was sitting on the sofa, sighing.

On the coffee table lay a pile of photos—potential suitors he'd had someone scout for me.

"Emma, I know you like Liam. But his status… we can't afford to reach that high. I'm getting old, my health isn't what it used to be. I just want to see you settle down with a normal guy…"

Before, I would've stayed silent, resisted, or found an excuse to go back to my room.

But today, I walked over, my gaze sweeping across the photos.

None of them looked like Liam.

That was good.

I pointed to one at random:

"This one will do."

My father looked stunned, almost disbelieving:

"This is Noah Davis, a doctor. He's very gentle, but he's moving to New York for work. If you marry him, you might have to leave home…"

"It's fine."

I cut him off.

"The farther, the better. Dad, arrange for us to meet."

My father was overjoyed and immediately went to make a call.

I returned to my room and dragged out a locked box from the back of my closet.

It contained everything related to Liam.

In high school, Liam was on the baseball team, the best player, according to the coach.

I went to every one of his games and kept countless photos.

There were also movie ticket stubs from the films we watched together over those eight years.

Even a button that had fallen off his shirt.

I found a large black trash bag and dumped that box of treasures, along with the heart that had loved Liam for eight years, all inside.

I tied the bag shut and tossed it into the downstairs trash bin.

The garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything.

I looked at the empty room and let out a long breath.