Rejected by My Fated Alpha

The day after I turned eighteen, Marlon and I succumbed to temptation.

Soon after, I discovered I was pregnant. Overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, Marlon promised to take responsibility. We decided, after discussing with my parents, to have the baby and hold a marking ceremony first, and then complete our schooling and formalize our mate bond once we were of legal age.

But the day after the ceremony, Marlon vanished, leaving only a letter behind.

At the same time, the internet was flooded with explicit photos of me, branding me an immoral woman and shattering my reputation. My father, the former Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, was so enraged that he suffered a stroke, leaving him paralyzed, while my mother, the former Luna, cried until she lost her sight.

It was only then that I learned everything—from our first meeting to our marking ceremony—was part of Marlon's scheme to avenge his father.

Seven years later, at my father's funeral, Marlon reappeared and kicked over my father's urn. I threw myself over the ashes to protect them. Looking up, I faced this man who was both familiar and yet a stranger. His eyes were filled with hatred.

"Alpha Marlon," I pleaded, my voice trembling, "please, let my father rest in peace."

He crouched beside me, gripping my face with a cold smirk on his lips. "I swore on my parents' graves that I would see him desecrated. I can’t break that promise, move aside!" With those words, he yanked my arm and tossed me aside, then kicked the urn, scattering my father’s ashes into the wind.

I scrambled desperately across the ground, reaching for something that could never be caught. My mother, with her sightless eyes, held me back as tears of blood ran down her cheeks.

"Adeline, let it go," she whispered.

Seven years ago, after Marlon left, his letter revealed the truth—that it was my father who caused his parents' demise. Both fathers had been students under a renowned artist, respected in the art world.

Eventually, my father chose to teach at an art gallery, while Marlon's father chased fame, opening exhibitions and organizing events that soon gained him great renown.

The incident occurred during one of his father's major art shows. Both his private exhibition and my father's gallery featured the same painting, sparking rumors about who had plagiarized whom. Ultimately, it was confirmed by their mentor that Marlon's father had copied my father's work.

His reputation nosedived, and he was ostracized from the art community, which drove him to madness. He claimed to anyone who would listen that my father and their mentor had conspired against him. In a moment of insanity, he killed his wife before taking his own life. Marlon was only fourteen at the time.

My father, unwilling to leave him alone, compassionately took Marlon into our pack. That’s when I first met him, never suspecting the seed of hatred buried deep within his heart.

Watching my father's ashes disappear into the