My Alpha Believed His Mistress Over His Pregnant Mate

The tablet felt like a bomb in my hands as I stormed through the packhouse corridors. My grief had crystallized into something harder, sharper—a fury that propelled me forward with single-minded purpose. Pack members scattered from my path, their eyes wide with alarm at the sight of their usually composed Luna radiating such barely contained rage.

I didn't knock before bursting into the main conference room.

"Everyone out." My voice cracked like a whip across the room.

Donovan's head snapped up, his expression shifting from annoyance to wariness in an instant. Marcus and Gamma Reid looked equally startled, their strategic meeting forgotten as they took in my disheveled appearance and wild eyes.

"This is a closed meeting, Luna," Donovan said, his tone carefully controlled. "Whatever this is about can wait."

"No." I stepped further into the room, my hand clutching the tablet so tightly my knuckles had turned white. "It can't wait. This is treason."

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. Reid leaned forward, his massive frame tensing.

"Eleanora." Donovan's voice held a warning. "You're interrupting pack business."

"I said everyone out!" I repeated, louder this time. "Now!"

Reid looked to Donovan for confirmation. After a moment's hesitation, Donovan nodded curtly.

"Give us the room," he ordered.

Marcus and Reid filed out, though Marcus paused at the door, his concerned gaze lingering on me before he closed it behind him.

But Violette remained.

"I should stay," she said softly, her delicate features arranged in a perfect mask of concern. "If this is about Helena's passing, I might be able to help."

"Leave us, Violette," Donovan instructed, though his tone lacked any real harshness.

"I'd rather not," she replied, moving to stand slightly behind his chair. "I'm still the pack Healer, and if Eleanora is this upset..."

Her hand rested lightly on Donovan's shoulder, a gesture of familiarity that made my stomach turn.

"Fine," I spat, tossing the tablet onto the polished table where it skidded to a stop in front of Donovan. "You can hear this too. Since you're the one who did it."

Donovan frowned, picking up the device. "What is this?"

"Evidence," I said, my voice trembling with barely controlled rage. "Evidence that your precious Healer murdered my grandmother."

Violette's gasp was perfectly timed, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. "How dare you!" she whispered, tears immediately springing to her eyes.

Donovan's expression darkened as he unlocked the tablet and stared at the screen. I watched his face as he clicked through the files, expecting to see shock, outrage, perhaps even grief.

Instead, his features hardened into cold disbelief.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"No joke," I said, stepping closer. "Those are the videos she showed my grandmother. The psychological torture that drove her into that final heart attack."

Violette burst into tears, her shoulders shaking with what appeared to be genuine distress. "This is absurd! Someone must have hacked my personal tablet to frame me!"

She turned to Donovan, her face a perfect picture of wounded innocence. "Alpha, you know me. You know I would never harm Helena. She was like a mother to me."

Donovan's jaw tightened as he looked between us—his mate and his healer. I saw the moment he made his choice.

"Enough, Eleanora," he said, his voice taking on the unmistakable resonance of his Alpha tone. The weight of it pressed against me, making my knees weak and my resolve waver.

"This is exactly what I'd expect from a paranoid, jealous Omega," he continued coldly. "Fabricating lies to smear our most dedicated healer."

The words hit me like physical blows. Each one precise, calculated, and delivered with the full force of his authority.

"Donovan," I whispered, "look at the evidence."

"I have," he replied, his eyes flashing with contempt. "And I see nothing but a pathetic attempt to discredit someone who actually contributes to this pack."

Violette's tears had subsided into quiet sniffles. She reached for Donovan's hand, her fingers intertwining with his in a gesture of trust that made my stomach turn.

"The Luna is clearly grieving," she murmured. "Perhaps she needs rest... or medication."

I stood frozen, watching as my mate—my Alpha—nodded in agreement, his hand still clasped in hers.

"You're right," he said. "Marcus will escort you to your quarters. You're obviously not well."

As if on cue, Marcus appeared at the door. His eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of something—doubt? pity?—crossing his features before he looked away.

"Come, Luna," he said quietly. "Let's get you some rest."

I looked back once at Donovan and Violette, their heads bent close together in conversation, her hand still holding his. The sight burned itself into my memory—the moment I realized that no amount of evidence would ever be enough to make him see her true nature.

Or mine.