Chapter 1

When the rogue attacked, my Fated Mate, Alpha Jackson, shielded Phoebe without even a glance my way.

My son, Thomas, clung to Phoebe's leg, screaming "bad woman" at me.

In the chaos, a chilling numbness spread through me.

The pregnancy test report clutched in my hand had long since fallen into a puddle.

Just ten minutes ago, I thought it was just another accident.

Until Alpha Jackson chose to protect Phoebe.

Until my son, Thomas, shoved me, leaving me exposed to danger.

It turned out Jackson's love for me was a lie from the start.

I was nothing more than a full-time nanny Jackson hired while Phoebe was away.

And I had seven days left until I completely vanished from this world.

Scarlett POV

After the chaos subsided, the pack's lead medic was already on site.

They swarmed around Phoebe, who was hiding behind Jackson, checking on her and offering treatment.

Jackson followed close behind, his brows furrowed in a tight knot.

The hand wearing his wedding ring was now clasped tightly around Phoebe's wrist.

Thomas stood beside them, crying so hard his voice was hoarse, repeatedly sobbing, "Phoebe, please don't die."

Phoebe, the Beta's daughter who grew up with Jackson.

She had only recently returned from the Werewolf Academy.

Her mere presence was enough to command his full attention.

I stood alone, unnoticed by anyone.

The wind dried the blood on my clothes, making the fabric stiff and chafing my skin raw.

My abdomen throbbed faintly where Thomas had kicked me hard.

Before I could even move, Jackson suddenly turned back.

His gaze, cutting through the throng of people, landed on me.

It was cold, filled with impatience.

"Scarlett, don't just stand there."

He called my name, his tone like scolding an incompetent subordinate. "Phoebe's shaken. Go back home, make her a soothing hot tea, and bring it to the hospital."

I wanted to say I was hurt too.

I wanted to say my stomach ached.

I wanted to say that the ruined paper showed I was six weeks pregnant.

But a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I swallowed it down.

"Okay."

I heard my own voice, eerily calm.

Jackson seemed satisfied with my obedience. He turned and followed the medics away.

The crowd gradually dispersed.

I returned alone to the Alpha's residence in Frostveil Pack.

As I walked in, Gamma Lena was pouring a pot of freshly brewed calming tea into a thermos.

Seeing me enter, disheveled and covered in mud, she froze, her eyes darting away.

"Luna Scarlett... Alpha Jackson called, he asked me to bring Ms. Phoebe a hot drink. He didn't mention you were also..."

She didn't finish, but I understood.

In the werewolf world, pack members must obey the Alpha's orders.

I ignored her awkwardness and went straight upstairs.

Passing Thomas's room, toys were still scattered everywhere.

His favorite limited-edition wolf plushie lay alone on the rug, an arm torn off.

I had queued all night six months ago to get that limited edition for him.

This morning, before we left, Thomas had thrown a huge tantrum because I accidentally knocked over that toy.

He pointed a finger at me and yelled, "I knew you weren't my real mom! If it were Phoebe, she'd never ruin my stuff!"

Back then, I just dismissed it as childish talk.

Now, it seemed, children's instincts were often the most accurate.

He had known all along who the outsider in this house was.

I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door.

The bathroom mirror reflected a pale face.

A scar marred my forehead, a wound from the chaos. It had healed, leaving only a small mark.

I lifted a hand to touch it, feeling nothing.

Stripping off my blood-stained clothes, I balled them up and tossed them directly into the trash.

Along with the crumpled report, its words now illegible.

The wounds on my body had already healed, but the hot water brought a fine sting as it hit my skin.

I looked down at my flat lower abdomen.

A tiny life had once grown there.

Just hours ago, I had been overjoyed, wanting to tell Jackson the good news.

Now, there was nothing.

That kick had been hard.

Compounded by the cold and the shock.

Blood streamed down my thighs, forming winding rivulets on the white tiles, before spiraling into the black hole of the drain.

I didn't cry.

I just felt tired.

After my shower, my phone screen lit up.

It was a message from Jackson.

Just one short line: Is the soup here yet? Phoebe's hungry.

He didn't ask if I was hurt.

He didn't ask how bad that kick had been.

I stared at the screen for a long time until my eyes ached.

Then, I replied: On its way.

After sending that message, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

Inside lay a one-way ticket to Europe and a bottle of mate-bond breaking potion I'd bought from Elara the Witch.

I had thought I wouldn't need them anymore.

With a child on the way, I'd wanted to give this relationship another chance.

But now, I was glad I hadn't destroyed them.

I took out the ticket, my thumb tracing the date.

It departed in seven days.

That was Jackson's birthday, and the deadline I'd set for myself.

I picked up a pen and drew a heavy circle around the date on the calendar.

The countdown began.