Rejected by My Fated Alpha

On the day of my appendectomy, my mate, Alpha Devon, promised to be there. Yet, when the procedure ended, he was nowhere in sight.

Coming to after anesthesia, I noticed a message from him sent two hours earlier:

"Alaina's stomach is acting up. I’m taking care of her. I’ll be there soon."

I called, only to catch his former mate’s voice in the background: "Alpha, can you grab me a towel?"

Whenever I needed him, she always seemed to have a crisis. Her depression or her stomach issues—there was always something.

Between us, he inevitably put her first.

Calmly, I hung up and took a cab to the pack healer’s office. I was exhausted. I wanted out.

Arriving at the packhouse, my footsteps seemed to echo in the emptiness. I dropped the rejection papers onto the coffee table, that cold document mocking what had become of our mating bond.

Then Devon’s video call came through. There he was, looking composed, dressed in a bathrobe, as though the sweet-talking man on the call wasn’t him.

"Has the surgery started?" he asked casually, like my well-being was an afterthought.

"It’s finished," I replied icily, staring at the screen at the face I once adored.

"That was quick." He sounded surprised, then quickly added, "Alaina was really unwell today. I was worried, so..."

"You were worried about her, and left me to deal with surgery alone? Who’s your mate here?"

I cut him off, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He hesitated, clearly caught off guard. When he spoke, his voice became louder, defensive. "What are you talking about? Alaina and I are just friends!"

"Friends?" I sighed, feeling utterly worn out. The physical weakness from the surgery now paled in comparison to the wave of helplessness.

"Friends who share bathrobes and towels? Alpha Devon, do you think I’m clueless?"

"What’s your point? Alaina’s not well, and I was just helping. Why are you turning this into something it’s not?" he retorted.

"Stop being dramatic, Eileen," he sighed.

“Dramatic?” I exclaimed, attempting to stand, only for a sharp pain to shoot through my abdomen. But I ignored it.

"Where were you when I was sick? Every time it’s the same: Alaina comes first, always!"

The video shifted, and suddenly a woman in a vintage nightdress appeared onscreen.

"Eileen, don’t blame Alpha Devon. He’s just concerned about me..." Alaina’s voice was frail, almost convincing, if not for the challenge in her eyes daring me to react.

"I’m an orphan, you know? Alpha Devon is just being kind..." she said, giving me a look that screamed territorial.

"I’m not bothered," I replied, a smirk on my lips, laden with sarcasm. "A touching reunion, you two are perfect for each other."

Devon’s expression darkened, his voice tinged with irritation: "Eileen, stop being so bitter! Alaina’s sensitive, if her depression flares up, then what?"

He drew Alaina into an embrace like she was some treasured possession. Only now did I notice that Devon wore nothing beneath his robe,