Chapter 1

Linnea's POV

My five-year-old son, Emrys, was poisoned by the deadly "Silver Eclipse." The only cure, Moonbloom Serum, had been seized entirely by my husband, Corvin, to save it for his nine-month-pregnant mistress, Melisande.

He froze all my bank accounts, forcing me to pawn the ring that symbolized my status as Luna and brave the dangerous black market just to secure the antidote.

But by the time I rushed back to the hospital, covered in blood, my child’s organs had already failed. He was gone.

When I threw the death certificate and divorce papers in Corvin’s face in despair, he just looked at me with mockery, accusing me of using our own flesh and blood to put on an act for his attention.

At that moment, all my love for him died completely. I took my son’s ashes, left the Ashmere pack, and decisively severed a mate bond that had tied us together for years...

——

"Linnea, I'm sorry... The toxin drained the last of his life force. His organs completely failed five minutes ago," Adrian’s hoarse voice echoed through the hallway of the Silver Moon Medical Center.

I clutched the vial of Moonbloom Serum I had traded my Luna token for. The glass dug into my palm, drawing blood, but I felt nothing. "No, Adrian—I got the cure! Emrys can be saved!"

I pushed past him and stumbled into the ICU.

Five-year-old Emrys lay completely motionless, his skin ashen and shriveled like a broken doll drained of life—the final stage of Silver Eclipse.

"Emrys, Mommy's back..." Tears fell onto the bedsheets. "Baby, please don't leave Mommy..."

A freezing little hand hung over the edge of the bed. No breath. No response.

My throat felt like it was full of shattered glass. I opened my mouth wide, but no sound came out. The grief morphed into invisible claws, tearing my heart apart.

I pulled out my phone and shakily dialed Corvin’s number. Once, twice, ten times. Only the cold, robotic voicemail answered.

A few hours ago, he had cornered me in the hallway, pointing a finger in my face.

"Linnea, drop this pathetic act for attention! Emrys just has a mild fever. Melisande is carrying a high-risk pregnancy!"

"Do you know how important those vials of serum are to her? Are you willing to kill another woman's unborn child just to get me to notice you?"

"The serum stays with her—that is an order from your Alpha!"

Staring at the screen, my tears completely dried up.

He killed our child.

My husband, for another woman, deliberately withheld our son’s life-saving medicine. He froze my accounts, forcing the Luna of the Ashmere pack to pawn everything in the black market.

A funeral home worker stepped into the room, holding a document. "Ms. Vaughn, the body needs to be moved to the morgue. Please go home and grab a few of his favorite clothes so he can leave with dignity."

"Okay," I heard my own raspy voice reply.

I walked heavily out of the hospital, returning to the Moormarsh Estate like a walking corpse.

The moment I pushed open the door, a sickly sweet laugh pierced my ears.

"Corvin, you worry too much. It was just Braxton Hicks. You didn't need to use the pack's helicopter to bring me back," Melisande leaned lazily on the couch, stroking her swollen belly. Her voice was dripping with artificial sweetness.

Corvin handed her a glass of warm milk, his tone remarkably gentle. "You're carrying the future of Ashmere. This baby can't have the slightest mishap. The serum stays with you. No one will touch it."

"But won't Linnea be angry? Emrys is your flesh and blood too, and yesterday I saw her desperately trying to borrow money..." Melisande took a sip of milk, lowering her eyes innocently.

"Her?" Corvin sneered, his voice filled with unapologetic disgust. "That sickly brat she had just to secure her position is going to die eventually anyway. All this dramatic acting is just to force my hand to unfreeze her accounts."

I stood in the doorway, staring at the two of them.

My son lay in a freezing morgue, while his murderer sat here discussing my "acting skills."

I walked numbly toward the stairs.

"Stop right there," Corvin noticed me, his eyes sharp as knives. "Where the hell have you been? You look like a beggar. I warned you not to go doing anything shameful in the black market and humiliate Ashmere!"

"I came back for clothes," I didn't even look at him, heading straight upstairs—to grab Emrys' favorite Superman pajamas.

"Linnea, have you had enough yet?!" Corvin crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my wrist firmly. His grip was brutal, making me gasp in pain. "You threw away the pack's dignity to buy useless medicine? Our son's weakness is karma for your past indiscretions, stop using him as a pawn to fight for my favor!"

Just then, my phone buzzed.

I coldly shook off his hand and answered it.

"Ms. Vaughn, regarding the time for your son's cremation..." the funeral worker's voice was soft.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed down the taste of blood in my throat.

"Three days. Cremate him in three days."