He Banished Me But Sheltered His Mistress

The scent of detergent filled my nostrils as I mechanically sorted through another load of laundry. Three years as Luna of the Silver Creek Pack, and here I was, still doing the work of an Omega. My hands were raw from the harsh chemicals, but that physical discomfort paled compared to the ache in my chest.

I glanced at the clock—Atticus would be finishing his afternoon pack reports soon. Maybe if I caught him before his evening meetings, he'd actually listen to what I had to say.

My parents' medical bills had been piling up for months. Dad's heart condition required specialized treatment, and Mom's arthritis medication wasn't covered by their insurance. As Luna, I had access to pack funds for emergencies, but Atticus controlled all financial decisions.

I gathered my courage and made my way to his office, the familiar weight of disappointment already settling in my stomach.

Atticus didn't look up when I entered. His pen scratched across documents, his focus entirely on the papers before him.

"I need to talk to you about something important," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He glanced at his watch. "You have three minutes."

"My parents' medical bills are getting out of control. Dad's new medication alone costs—"

"Two minutes."

I swallowed hard. "I think we should allocate some pack funds to help them. They're struggling, and I'm their only daughter."

Finally, he looked up, his gray eyes devoid of emotion. "That would be an inefficient resource allocation."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "Inefficient? They're my parents."

"And this is a pack, not a charity." He returned to his paperwork. "We have budget constraints like everyone else."

"But—"

"One minute."

I watched in stunned silence as he signed a document with a flourish, then reached for another folder. My eyes caught the name on the file tab: Foster Family Financial Support.

"Is that for Leila's family?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Atticus nodded without looking up. "Her mother's condition requires extensive treatment. The pack will cover all expenses."

Something cold and bitter unfurled inside me. "So it's 'inefficient' to help my parents, but Leila's family gets unlimited support?"

"That's different." He checked his watch again. "Time's up."

* * *

The bedroom was silent except for the ticking of the clock on Atticus's nightstand. I sat rigidly on the edge of our bed, watching him move with precision as he removed his shirt.

"It's time," he announced, his tone as clinical as if he were scheduling a meeting.

"Time for what?" I asked, though I already knew.

"To fulfill our duty to the pack." He reached for his phone and tapped the screen. "I've calculated the optimal window based on your cycle."

A small electronic timer appeared in his hand. He placed it on the nightstand and pressed the button. The digital countdown began: 45:00.

"Forty-five minutes should be sufficient," he said, approaching me with the same detached efficiency he brought to pack budget meetings.