EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET: DIVORCED AND CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

Niamh' s POV

My cheap black flats were so worn out that I could feel every sharp stone on the driveway right through the sole.

I was married to a billionaire CEO but couldn't even afford decent flats.

My shift at the diner finished half an hour late because a big group of twelve people showed up just as we were closing. My manager knew I needed the money, so he made me stay.

I was beyond exhausted that by the time I finally reached the porch of the huge house I lived in, my legs were ready to disintegrate into dust.

A storm was rolling up ahead as thunder rumbled in the distance, causing the wind to whip my hair.

I pushed through the heavy oak door just as the rain threatened to start.

The silent house smelled of lilies and wax; a familiar, lonely scent. None of my coworkers would ever believe I was married to a billionaire CEO.

I walked toward the living room, hoping to find Marcus so I could tell him about my day; not that he ever really listened. I just wanted to feel like I wasn't a ghost in my own marriage, at least for tonight.

I found him in the living room.

He was sitting on the sofa, perfectly composed, with his mother, Evelyn, sitting in the armchair opposite him.

They looked like they were holding a board meeting. And on the mahogany coffee table was a stack of papers.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Marcus?" I called, my voice sounding small in the high-ceilinged room. "What's going on?"

He didn't look up from the latest iPad in his hands. "Sit down."

"I'm actually really tired, I just got off my shift..."

"I said sit," he repeated. His voice was cold and clipped.

I went to sit down, the greasy feeling from the diner clinging to my skin. It made me feel even more out of place among all the white silk and gold in the room.

I looked down at the papers, and the word DIVORCE leaped out at me in big, black letters.

"I don't get it," I whispered. I searched Marcus's face, looking for any signs of the kind man I had married two years ago. "Is this a joke?"

"Don't be dramatic," Evelyn snapped, her voice dripping with hate.

She smoothened her designer skirt, looking at me with pure disgust. "You've been a guest in this house for two years, Niamh. A charity project that has finally run its course."

"A charity project?" I stared at Marcus, appalled. "Marcus, tell me what's going on. We've been married for two years! I've done everything for you. I've stood by you, I've managed this house, and I've been a good wife while you built your business..."

A sharp sting hit my face before I could catch it.

It was a slap.

The blow was so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side, and for a