The White Wolf He Rejected For A Mistress

I lay in the ICU, silver toxicity turning my blood to lead. A chandelier had sliced through my shoulder, poisoning me and the secret life growing inside my womb.

The doctor was frantic, gripping the phone. "Alpha, the silver has reached her marrow. She needs a transfusion of your blood. It's the only way to save the Luna and the... the potential life."

I waited for my husband, Blake, to rush to my side. Instead, his voice came through the speaker, cold and clinical.

"Keep the reserves in storage, Doctor. Ariana is in shock from a scratch on her finger. She might need it if she faints. I cannot risk depleting my supply for Caroline."

The room went silent.

In that silence, my inner wolf gave one last shuddering gasp and died. She couldn't survive the rejection.

And the tiny spark of life in my womb flickered out with her.

He had stopped our child's heart to protect his mistress's panic attack.

I didn't scream. I reached for the black leather notebook on my bedside table. My ledger.

For five years, I had tracked every insult. Every time he chose Ariana over me. We started with 100 points.

He walked through fire for her and left me to burn under the debris. -20.

He gave the family heirloom to her to 'soothe' her. -15.

He refused the blood. He killed our son.

I wrote the final number.

Total: 0.

The debt was paid. The bond was bankrupt.

I signed the divorce papers and vanished into the storm, leaving a dead son and a dead marriage behind.

Two years later, I returned as the most powerful architect in the region, the rare White Wolf.

Blake, now a ruined, disgraced man, knelt in the rain before me, begging.

"I can fix it," he sobbed, clutching the hem of my dress. "I can earn the points back!"

I looked down at him with cold, dead eyes.

"The ledger is closed, Blake. You hit zero."

Chapter 1

Caroline POV:

The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only rhythm left in my world. It was a cold, synthetic metronome, mocking the silence where a pack heart's thrum used to be.

I lay in the ICU of the Blood Moon Pack hospital. My body felt like it was filled with lead—silver toxicity. A chandelier had crashed down during the council meeting, slicing through my shoulder and poisoning my blood.

But the physical agony was background noise compared to the silence in my head.

My wolf. My inner spirit. She was usually a furnace of instinct curled around my soul. Now, she was fading. She was whimpering, a high-pitched keen of distress that vibrated in my marrow.

"Doctor, her vitals are dropping!" a nurse shouted.

Dr. Evans, the pack physician, looked pale. He gripped the phone, knuckles white.

"Alpha," Dr. Evans pleaded. "I need you here. Now. The silver has reached her bone marrow. Her body is rejecting the antidote. She needs a transfusion of