After I Faked My Death, My Lying Alpha Ex Went Mad With Regret

For five years of marriage, I endured my Alpha King husband's cold neglect because he claimed to suffer from "Bond Deficiency Syndrome," making him incapable of falling in love with his fated mate.

I took a silver bullet for him, yet when danger struck, he abandoned me without hesitation and ran to another woman.

It wasn't until I got pregnant with his Double Alpha heir and went to surprise him that I overheard his cold voice outside the door: "The illness is faked. Once she gives birth to the heir, this marriage can end."

It turned out he understood everything; he just didn't love me.

I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I faked my death during an attack, leaving behind nothing but a blood-soaked wedding ring.

Later, the Alpha King who claimed he couldn't feel love went completely mad.

He abandoned his territory and searched for me for a year and a half.

But when he finally knelt in the blizzard, begging me to come back, my child was resting on another man's shoulder, sweetly babbling the word "Daddy."

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Chapter 1

I had been married to Damon Blackridge for exactly five years.

Before I left the Whitmore Pack in New York, my father asked me three times if I was truly willing to go to Chicago. Every time, I answered yes.

Because Damon was my fated mate.

When I was eighteen, I fell in love with him at first sight.

But Damon didn't reciprocate.

He told me he suffered from a rare condition called "Bond Deficiency Syndrome." He couldn't sense his mate, nor could he fall in love with his fated one like a normal werewolf.

Back then, I held his hand and said, "It's okay."

Later, those three words became the phrase I said most often during our five-year marriage.

When he canceled our anniversary dinner, it was okay.

When he missed my Luna Investiture Ceremony, it was okay.

When he left me alone to face the scrutinizing gazes of the Elders while he left with Sabrina Cole, it was okay too.

I always thought that as long as I was patient enough, Damon would eventually realize that even without the mate bond, we could still have a real marriage.

At the Blackridge Pack's winter gala, I tried to convince myself of this once again.

The banquet hall was filled with key members of the Chicago Alliance. I stood beside Damon in a silver-gray gown. Just as I raised my glass, the phone in his pocket vibrated.

He glanced at the screen and immediately stood up.

"Tonight is the pack gala," I reminded him in a low voice. "The Elders are still waiting for you to announce the decision on the North District Land Trust."

"An emergency came up on Sabrina's end."

"What kind of emergency?"

Damon had already buttoned his suit jacket, his tone cold. "You don't need to know."

He walked straight out, not even noticing the exchanged glances of the Elders across from us.

Half an hour later, Sabrina returned.

She was draped in Damon's black overcoat, her slightly curly blonde hair dusted with fine snow, looking completely at ease.

"Sorry, Claire," she said, taking a seat next to me and pouring herself a glass of wine. "There was a little trouble with the dock contracts. Damon was worried I couldn't handle it alone and insisted on going there himself."

She smoothed the collar of the coat, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"He's just too used to relying on me. You know how it is—when it comes to work, I understand him better than anyone."

The area around us fell briefly silent.

I could hear the hushed laughter nearby and see the stares landing on that coat. That coat should have been draped over his wife, but right now, it was Sabrina's proof of their intimacy.

I set my glass down and stood up with a smile.

"Apologies for the wait, everyone. Regarding the North District Land Trust, on behalf of the Alpha, I announce that the Blackridge Pack will uphold the original agreement."

I faced the Elders' inquiries alone, toasted our allies, and placated the families displeased by Damon's sudden departure. Until the gala ended, I maintained the poise expected of a Luna, never letting anyone see my humiliation.

On the ride back, it was just Damon and me in the car.

He offered no explanation, merely staring at the passing streetlights outside the window.

I asked softly, "Is Sabrina's issue resolved?"

"It's resolved."

"Could you tell me beforehand next time? At least don't leave me there all alone."

Damon frowned, as if I had made an unreasonable demand.

"Claire, I've told you, I can't feel the so-called bond or love. You can't expect me to constantly cater to your emotions like a normal mate."

I fell silent for a moment, then nodded.

"I understand."

When those words left my mouth, it felt as if my heart was being ruthlessly crushed deep inside my chest.

Yet, I still believed he wasn't hurting me on purpose. He was just sick, and I needed to give him more time.

A few days later, our convoy was ambushed by Silver Moon Hunters on the way back to the estate.

The first gunshot shattered the car window. The guards immediately shifted into wolves and charged into the woods. Damon shielded me behind him and ordered the driver to speed up. But through the broken glass, I saw a cold glint flash from the overpass in the distance.

A silver bullet was aimed straight at Damon.

"Get down!"

Without thinking, I lunged forward and shoved him out of the way.

The gun fired.

Agonizing pain ripped through my shoulder blade as the silver drilled into my flesh like red-hot iron. I collapsed into Damon's arms. The smell of scorched blood filled my nose, and my healing abilities rapidly deteriorated under the silver toxicity.

"Claire!"

Damon held me tight, his voice losing its steady composure for the first time.

I was trembling from the pain, but I still reached up to touch his face, making sure he wasn't hurt.

"As long as you're okay."

He stared at me, his gray eyes churning with shock, anger, and something I couldn't decipher.

I waited for him to say something.

Worry, fear, or even a simple "Don't leave me."

But in the end, he just clenched his jaw and roared at the guards, "Get a doctor!"

Later, the doctor extracted the deformed silver bullet from my back. Damon stood guard outside the door, but he never came in to hold my hand.

That night, staring at the empty half of the bed, for the first time, I didn't dare use his Bond Deficiency Syndrome to make excuses for him.

Maybe Damon wasn't incapable of loving me.

He just never wanted to.