My Mate Bought My Cure for Her

The small glass vial felt surprisingly heavy in my palm, its weight far exceeding the few milliliters of clear liquid it contained. Through the private clinic's floor-to-ceiling windows, Seattle's skyline blurred into watercolor streaks as rain traced paths down the glass. The city looked as gray and lifeless as I felt inside.

"Mrs. Wynter, please reconsider," Dr. Chen's voice cracked with desperation behind me. "There has to be another way. We could try experimental treatments, reach out to international contacts—"

I turned from the window, meeting his wide, terrified eyes. The elderly doctor's hands trembled as he reached toward me, but I held up my free hand to stop him.

"You just told me the Frostbite Syndrome has reached my heart," I said, my voice unnaturally calm. "You said the wolf toxin will kill me within weeks. And you also confirmed that there are only three vials of Moonlight Essence left in the world."

Dr. Chen's face crumpled. "But your mate, Killian, he purchased one of those vials just yesterday. Surely he—"

"He bought it for my stepsister Mira." The words tasted like ash in my mouth. "Not for his dying mate."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths. Dr. Chen had been our family physician for over a decade. He'd delivered my son Aiden, treated Killian's injuries from pack challenges, and watched our seemingly perfect family grow. He knew exactly what kind of man my mate had become.

I uncapped the vial with steady fingers. The liquid inside shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence—beautiful and deadly. Seventy-two hours. That's all this accelerant would give me. But it would also mask the symptoms of my disease, making my final days appear normal to everyone else.

"Scarlett, don't—" Dr. Chen lunged forward, but I'd already tilted the vial to my lips.

The liquid burned like liquid fire down my throat, and for a moment, my vision went white. When it cleared, Dr. Chen was staring at me in horror, his face pale as parchment.

"Why?" he whispered.

I set the empty vial on his desk with a soft clink. "Because no one would believe I'm actually sick anyway. They all think I'm just another attention-seeking Luna, playing victim to manipulate my Alpha."

The words came out matter-of-factly, but each syllable carved a deeper wound in my chest. I pulled out a legal document I'd prepared before the appointment—a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement.

"Sign this," I said, sliding it across his desk. "You cannot tell anyone about my condition. Not Killian, not my parents, not anyone."

Dr. Chen's hands shook as he read the contract. "Scarlett, this is madness. Your family has a right to know—"

"My family stopped caring about my rights six months ago."

The memory hit me like a physical blow, transporting me back to a time when everything made sense. Six months ago, I was Scarlett Wynter, the self-made CEO of Wynter Rose, a luxury fashion house worth over a hundred million dollars. I'd built that empire from