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Rejected Mate’s Hidden Truth

Rejected Mate’s Hidden Truth

Cast aside by her fated mate, a resilient female werewolf struggles to rebuild her life in the shadows. But as shocking secrets about her bloodline emerge, she must decide if uncovering the truth is worth risking her second chance.

Chapter 2

Back in my apartment, I mechanically gathered everything that reminded me of Henrik Salazar and shoved it into trash bags. The matching mugs, the couple’s pajamas, even the sole photo of us together—I tore it to shreds. I worked until three in the morning, finally collapsing onto the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion.

But just as I drifted off, a piercing alarm jolted me awake. It was the smart lock alert for the apartment we were supposed to share after our mating ceremony. Groggily, I grabbed my phone and opened the surveillance app.

On the screen, Jocelyn Hall lounged arrogantly on the sofa, draped in my custom Victorian-style wedding dress. The gown, tailored to fit me perfectly, somehow looked stunning on her. Henrik, on the other hand, was dressed in something absurdly revealing, kneeling at her feet, utterly absorbed in kissing her toes.

“Are you happy?” Jocelyn asked, her voice dripping with smugness as she pressed her foot against Henrik’s cheek.

“Ecstatic,” Henrik replied, his tone sycophantic, like a desperate pup seeking approval. My stomach churned, and I nearly retched. They were in our mating apartment, doing this—this—filth!

Jocelyn let out a triumphant laugh. “Wearing Savannah’s pajamas at your place was fun, but this? In your mating den? Now *this* is exciting.”

My mind went blank. They had invaded my space, even worn my clothes. Furious, I grabbed all my pajamas and threw them into the trash.

Just then, my phone buzzed again. Against my better judgment, I kept watching. A delivery guy, Archer Warren, walked into the room, his face a mask of confusion. Henrik and Jocelyn, unfazed, resumed their obscene antics right in front of him. Archer’s face turned ashen, and he dropped the package before bolting out the door.

I couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the feed. My chest heaved with anger and disbelief. Who *was* this Henrik? The man I’d known was always the epitome of a gentleman—charming, well-mannered, the future Alpha of the Salazar Pack. But now? Every move he made made my skin crawl.

The next day at the pack office, Henrik approached me, his usual confident stride faltering when I instinctively took several steps back. “Savannah,” he said, his voice tinged with concern, “what’s wrong?”

I met his gaze with icy detachment. “We’re done.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a private conference room, his face pale. “Savannah, is this because I didn’t come home the last two nights? I was at the hospital—I was busy.”

The disgust in me surged, but I kept my voice flat. “Liana has told me more than once about your behavior with Jocelyn Hall.”

Liana, the young Delta intern in my department, had mentioned their inappropriate interactions multiple times. I’d dismissed it as exaggeration, but now? Now I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been.

Henrik’s expression shifted, and he insisted, “Jocelyn is my assistant. It’s normal for us to be close. Haven’t I explained this already?”

“Close enough to share a chair and feed each other fruit?” I shot back.

His face paled further, and to my shock, he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Savannah, I was wrong! I’ll keep my distance from her. I’ll fire her immediately, okay?”

He clutched at my waist, his voice breaking. “Please, forgive me this once. I love you—I can’t live without you.”

His begging softened me, just a little. Henrik had always been so proud, so composed. To see him like this—humbled, desperate—it made me wonder if he still loved me after all.

After a moment’s hesitation, I relented. “Fine. As long as you two don’t interact, we’ll stay together.”

He laughed through his tears, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re incredible.”

But his touch made my skin crawl, and the doubt lingered. Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification labeled “Mistress Wife.”

The message read: “Meet me at the office later. Something fun planned.”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my composure. “I hope you mean what you said. Or we’re finished.”

He swore up and down that he’d keep his promises, insisting he couldn’t live without me. But as he walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

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