The three days in the Maldives had been like living in a dream. Every moment with Grayson felt perfect and healing.
He showed me parts of the island I never knew existed, private beaches where we walked hand in hand under the moonlight.
But on the third morning, James appeared at our breakfast table with an urgent expression.
“Your Majesty,” he said to Grayson, “we’ve received reports of rogue wolf attacks at the northern border. The situation is escalating rapidly.”
Grayson’s expression immediately grew serious. “How many casualties?”
“Twelve injured, three missing.” James replied grimly. “The pack leaders are requesting your immediate presence.”
I watched Grayson’s face transform from relaxed vacation mode to Alpha King authority. This was the responsibility he carried every day.
“I have to leave,” he said to me, regret clear in his voice. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said quickly. “Your people need you. Take James directly to the border.”
Grayson reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “What about you?”
“I’ll go home to pack my things first, then move to the royal territory as planned,” I told him.
His thumb traced circles on my knuckles, a gesture that had become familiar and comforting over the past few days.
“I feel terrible about cutting our time short,” he said with genuine guilt. “I promise I’ll give you a proper honeymoon trip once this crisis is handled.”
I smiled at his consideration. “We have a lifetime ahead of us, Grayson. A few days won’t matter.
After returning to the pack territory, I couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible Grayson had been to me. His patience, his gentleness, the way he anticipated my needs before I even voiced
them.
Before heading home, I decided to stop at the upscale shopping district. I wanted to find something special for him, a token of my appreciation.
I wandered through several stores before finding the perfect gift in an exclusive jewelry boutique. It was a vintage platinum pocket watch with intricate silver engravings around the edges.
The craftsmanship was exquisite, and I could imagine Grayson carrying it during important Royal Council meetings. It was elegant, timeless, and practical–just like him.
The price was steep at ten thousand dollars, but considering everything Grayson had done for me, it felt like a small gesture.
Walking back to my car with the distinctive shopping bag in hand, I felt lighter than I had in months.
‘Emma!” My mother’s sharp voice cut through my peaceful mood.
I turned to see both my parents approaching, their expressions already disapproving.
“What is that?” my father demanded, pointing at the shopping bag.
7:37 pm DDDD.
“Just something I picked up,” I said carefully, recognizing the storm brewing in their eyes.
My mother snatched the bag from my hands, examining the logo with growing horror.
“This is from Cartier,” she gasped. “Do you have any idea how expensive this store is?”
“Emma, have you lost your mind?” my father’s voice rose with each word. “You’re not ever officially mated to the Alpha King yet, and you’re already spending money like water?”
His face was turning red with anger. “Why didn’t you bring any resources home to your family‘ Instead, you’re wasting money on such expensive luxuries?”
“Your younger brother is still waiting for you to provide resources for his Beta training,” my mother added, her voice dripping with disappointment. “But here you are, thinking only of yourself.”
My father stepped closer, his finger jabbing accusingly in my direction. “We raised you, fed you clothed you, and this is how you repay us? By being selfish and ungrateful?”
“You only know how to spend money and enjoy yourself,” my mother continued the attack. “You don’t care about your parents or your brother at all. What kind of daughter have we raised?”
Their words hit me like physical blows. After everything I had been through, coming home to this verbal assault felt surreal.
“Your brother has been working twice as hard in training, hoping his sister would help secure his future,” my father’s voice grew more vicious. “But instead, you’re buying jewelry for yourself like some spoiled princess.”
My mother shook her head in disgust. “If we had known you would be this selfish, we never should have agreed to let you marry the Alpha King. At least with Ethan, you understood your family obligations.”
“Ethan would never let his mate neglect her family duties like this,” my father added. “Maybe we made the wrong choice supporting your decision.”
Something inside me snapped. Years of being treated like a commodity, like my only value was what I could provide for others, finally boiled over.
“Am I just a tool to earn resources for my younger brother?” I asked, my voice shaking with suppressed rage. “Is that all I am to you?”
My parents looked shocked that I dared to question them.
“And Ethan?” I continued, my voice growing stronger. “He cheated with his stepsister. Do you really think I should still be mated to him?”
My father’s face darkened further. “How are you sure Ethan cheated? He just treats his stepsister better, which shows he’s a responsible Alpha! A good man takes care of his family.”
The audacity of his defense made me laugh bitterly. I pulled out my phone and opened Scarlett’s social media page.
“Look at this,” I said, shoving the screen toward them.
The posts were nauseating. Photo after photo of Scarlett and Ethan in intimate poses. Her sitting on his lap at dinner, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. Pictures of them in bed together, Scarlett wearing nothing but Ethan’s shirt, his marks clearly visible on her neck. One caption read: “My Alpha takes such good care of me. Some girls are so lucky to have
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brothers like this.”
Another showed them kissing passionately with the caption: “When your Alpha brother loves you more than anyone else ever could.”
The evidence was overwhelming and disgusting.
“Still think he’s just being a responsible Alpha?” I asked sarcastically.
But instead of apologizing or showing concern for my pain, my father’s face twisted with fury at my defiance.
“How dare you speak to us like this?” he snarled, raising his hand to strike me.
His palm was already swinging toward my face when strong fingers suddenly clamped around his wrist, stopping the blow inches from my cheek.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a familiar voice said coldly.
I turned in shock to see Ethan standing behind my father, his grip iron–tight on my father’s raised hand.
