Rejected Mate’s Stolen Star Path

Seven days into our mate bond, Chandler Freeman, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was suddenly diagnosed with a terminal illness.

He claimed he was part of some bizarre system that required him to complete certain tasks to stay alive, including winning over Esme Burke, a Delta in our pack. He brought Esme into our den and insisted I wash their sheets as part of this so-called system's demands. For his sake, I chose to endure.

But his tasks grew increasingly outrageous. He took my competition sketches and handed them to Esme. She won a prestigious award with my work, while I was accused of plagiarism. He even forced me to kneel and apologize to Esme at the award ceremony.

"Luna," he said, using my title to remind me of my duty, "is my life worth less than a painting?"

I yielded again. At the apology event, Esme's fervent admirers attacked me, breaking my fingers so I could never paint again. Chandler cried, promising to treat me better in the future.

But then I overheard him talking to his Beta.

"Luna Harmony's hands are wrecked now. If she knew you don’t actually have a terminal illness, she’d lose it," his Beta said.

"Was it really necessary to ruin her for Esme’s gold award?" Chandler's voice dripped with disdain.

"Absolutely. Only by destroying Luna Harmony can Esme’s path to fame be made clear," Chandler replied nonchalantly. "As for Harmony, she loves me so much that even if she found out, she'd just be relieved I'm not sick. I could charm her, and she'd be putty in my hands."

My heart broke. I wiped my tears and walked away. Chandler Freeman, I don’t love you anymore.

The pain in my fingers gripped the doorknob, reminding me of everything I had just heard. I staggered backward in disbelief, peering through the crack in the door at Chandler's dismissive expression, my chest tightening painfully. No illness, no system—Chandler had been deceiving me from the start, exploiting my feelings for him. And I had trusted him.

Suddenly, Chandler opened the door. He was momentarily shocked to see me but quickly gave the same reassuring smile he always did and stretched his hand toward me.

"Luna, did you get the right kind? It needs to be strawberry-flavored and ribbed, or else the system will penalize me."

I looked at him with disappointment, searching for one last chance.

"Alpha, can't you stop these tasks?"

His smile faded. "Luna, do you want me to die?"

I moved my lips, my throat tight. Since I believed Chandler had a terminal illness and this system, he and Esme had been indulging shamelessly. Using the system’s tasks as an excuse, they entwined themselves everywhere from the living room to our den, day and night.

Occasionally, when they remembered I existed, they would ask me to buy condoms or clean their dirty sheets. I endured the heartbreak, watching my mate possessed by someone else, meekly asking Chandler if his condition had