The Alpha’s Broken Seal

I've been mated to Alpha Damon for five years.

I helped him build a business empire, but he kept delaying our marking ceremony 99 times.

Right before the ceremony was supposed to happen, he told me the pack’s resources were tight.

He demanded I stop the expansion of the Alpha’s manor and scrapped the nursery I’d designed for our future pups.

Then he turned around and bought a thirty-million-dollar penthouse for Isabella, a new omega in our pack.

When Isabella and I were in a car crash at the same time, he didn't even glance my way. He ran straight to her.

He wrapped her in his Alpha scent, holding her tight.

Their scents mingling was like a knife to my heart.

In the pack council hall, in front of all the Elders, I looked at him with ice in my eyes.

"I, Elena, reject you, Damon, as my mate."

Through the gut-wrenching pain of the mate bond snapping, I sent a message to the Alpha of another pack.

"I rejected him. I'll be at your Crescent Moon Pack tomorrow."

My Alpha mate postponed our marking ceremony 99 times for an omega. For the 100th, I rejected him instead.

"The manor expansion is on hold."

Damon didn't even look up as he signed another contract.

My eyes were glued to the blueprints on his desk—the plans for the Alpha’s manor that I had spent three months pouring my heart into.

It included the nursery for our future children.

"What do you mean?" My voice was a whisper, but my hands were shaking.

"The pack's resources are tight," he said, his tone casual, as if he were talking about the weather. "The expansion is too extravagant."

"Extravagant?" I stared at him in disbelief. "That was supposed to be our home, Damon. Where we agreed we'd raise our pups."

"Elena, don't be dramatic." He finally looked up, his eyes filled with impatience. "It's not the right time."

It felt like a sledgehammer to the chest.

We'd been mated for five years.

And still, he'd put off our official marking ceremony.

"Isabella is waiting for me for lunch," he said, standing and walking around his desk. "I have to go."

I was left alone in his office.

With the rejected blueprints.

My hand trembled as I picked up my phone.

Instagram's algorithm pushed a new post to the top of my feed.

It was from Isabella’s account.

In the photo, she was wearing a couture evening gown I’d never seen before, standing in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling window.

The view outside was a panorama of the pack’s core territory—a view you could only get from the penthouse.

The room’s decor was breathtakingly lavish.

Italian marble floors, a crystal chandelier, and a vintage sofa that had to be worth a hundred thousand dollars.

Her caption read: Thanks to my Alpha for my new home! So much love in every detail.

Posted: Ten minutes ago.

The comment section was already on fire.

OMG! Is