Chapter 7

AMY'S POV

I woke up to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and the soft sound of someone knocking on my door.

For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The bed was too large, too soft, the sheets too silky. The room was enormous, with vaulted ceilings and elegant furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.

Then the memories came flooding back. The funeral. Derek. Richard. The contract.

I was in Richard's mansion.

A knock came on the door and I quickly sat up. "Come in," I called, my voice hoarse with sleep.

The door opened, and a young she-wolf in a maid's uniform entered, pushing a cart laden with food. She smiled warmly at me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Wellington. The Alpha instructed us to bring your breakfast. I hope you enjoy it."

Mrs. Wellington? It didn't feel that strange because I had known for two years that I would get married to a Wellington but it wasn't supposed to be him.

I stared at the cart, which was piled high with fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, and a steaming pot of coffee. It was more food than I usually ate in an entire week.

"Thank you," I managed to force out.

The maid set the cart beside my bed and curtsied. "If you need anything else, just ring the bell. The Alpha is in his study if you wish to see him."

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

I sat up in bed, staring at the spread of food. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten properly in days. But I couldn't shake the strange feeling of being taken care of.

Richard had provided me with a luxurious room, a comfortable bed, and now a gourmet breakfast. It felt like I was being wooed, even though I knew this was all part of the arrangement.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. Don't read into it, Amy. He's just making sure his investment is well-maintained.

I ate quickly, savoring the food, then headed to the bathroom to shower. The bathroom was massive, with a rainfall showerhead and marble tiles that gleamed under the warm lighting. I took my time, letting the hot water wash away the tension in my muscles.

But when I stepped out of the shower, I realized I had a problem.

I had no clothes.

I'd worn the same black dress yesterday, the one from my father's funeral. It was wrinkled, stained with tears and sweat, and definitely not appropriate for another day.

I wrapped a towel around myself and padded back into the bedroom, hoping there might be something in the closet. I opened the doors and found... nothing. Empty hangers, bare shelves.

Of course. I wasn't a permanent resident here. Why would there be clothes for me?

I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. I had no choice. I'd have to wear yesterday's dress.

I pulled it on, wincing at the wrinkles. I looked like I'd slept in it which I had.

I was still checking myself in the mirror when my phone rang on the bed, drawing my attention. i checked it to see Derek's name flashed on the screen.

My stomach turned. I stared at the phone, my thumb hovering over the decline button. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to hear his voice, his excuses, his lies.

But for some reason, I pressed answer and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Amy." Derek's voice was casual, almost bored. "Where are you? My mother needs you to run some errands today. Don't forget."

I blinked, stunned into silence. He was talking to me like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't caught him in bed with another woman just yesterday.

"Don't be late this time. You know how she gets," he continued.

"Derek," I said, my voice flat. "Are you serious right now?"

He paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, did you really just call me to run errands for your mother? After what happened?"

There was a beat of silence. Then Derek chuckled, the sound dismissive and infuriating. "Oh, come on, Amy. Are you still upset about that? I told you, it was a mistake. It didn't mean anything."

"A mistake?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You slept with another woman hours after my father's funeral, and you think that's just a mistake?"

"Amy, stop being dramatic." His tone was condescending, like he was talking to a child throwing a tantrum. "You're my mate. You're supposed to be understanding. I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?"

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Getting angry wouldn't help. It would only give him the reaction he wanted.

"Derek," I said slowly, "we're over. I' Amy Hart reject you Derek Wellington as my fated mate."

He laughed. "You can't be serious. You're really going to throw away everything we have over one mistake?"

"I don't care, we're done."

Silence stretched between us. Then Derek's voice came through, cold and angry. "Fine. You want to end this? Then I accept your rejection."

The words hit me like a knife to the chest. The rejection sent a sharp, piercing pain through my heart. It was the fated mate bond, breaking and tearing, leaving an agonizing wound in its wake.

I gasped, clutching my chest, my eyes filling with tears.

"Don't forget," Derek continued, his voice was laced with pain too "You're nothing without me, Amy. You have no money and no future without me in your life."

I couldn't speak. The pain was too much.

"You'll come crawling back," he said, his voice smug and confident. "And when that happens, I'll make you pay for the pain you caused me. I'll make you beg desperately for me before I even consider taking you back."

The tears spilled down my cheeks. But the words that came out of my mouth were steady.

"Goodbye, Derek."

I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bed. I sat there, my body trembling, the sharp pain still radiating through my chest. I clutched the sheets, breathing through the ache.

I curled up on the bed, burying my face in the pillow, and let myself cry. I cried for the years I'd wasted. I cried for the love I'd thought was real. I cried for the future I'd imagined that would never come true.

And as the sobs wracked my body, I felt the bond finally snap. The last thread of connection between Derek and me, severed completely. The pain was excruciating, like a part of my soul had been ripped away.

But when it was over, when the pain finally began to subside, I felt something else.

Freedom.

I was no longer tied to him. I was no longer bound by fate to a man who didn't deserve me. I was free.

I sat up slowly, wiping my tear-stained face. My chest still ached, and the hollow feeling where the bond used to be was unsettling. But I was okay.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the bedroom, heading downstairs like nothing happen. The mansion was quiet, the halls empty. I followed the sound of voices until I reached a large study, where I found Richard on the phone.

He was pacing in front of a massive window, his back to me. He was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his dark hair slicked back, his posture radiating authority.

"The immigrants from the Eastern packs need to be processed properly," he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "I don't care how long it takes. Every single one of them needs to be vetted before they're allowed into Darkwood territory. We can't afford another security breach."

He listened for a moment, then continued. "And increase patrols along the northern border. I've received reports of rogues gathering in the area. I want them dealt with before they become a problem."

His voice was cold, ruthless, utterly devoid of emotion. He sounded like a general commanding an army, not a man on a phone call.

I hesitated at the doorway, suddenly unsure if I should interrupt. He looked intimidating like this. This was the Alpha Richard Wellington that everyone feared. The man who had built an empire from nothing. The man who had destroyed anyone who stood in his way.

And I was married to him.

He ended the call and turned, his green eyes immediately finding me. His gaze swept over me, taking in my wrinkled dress and damp hair, and his expression shifted to something unreadable.

"Good morning," he said, his voice softer than it had been on the phone. "You're up early."

"It's almost ten," I said. "I don't think that counts as early."

"How are you holding up?"

I shrugged, not wanting to admit how fragile I felt. "I'm fine. I just need to go home and change, then I'll head to the hospital to see my mother."

Richard's eyes scanned me again, taking in the wrinkled dress, the bare feet, the tangled hair. His jaw tightened. "In that?”

I crossed my arms defensively. "I don't have any other clothes with me. And I can't exactly walk into a hospital in my underwear."

He walked toward me, his movements fluid and purposeful. He stopped just inches away, close enough that I could smell his cologne, the same woodsy scent from last night.

"Then we'll get you new clothes," he said simply.

I blinked. "What?"

"You're going to become the Luna of Darkwood Pack," he said. "You need to look the part. People will be watching you, judging you. Every detail matters; your clothes, your hair, your posture. If you look like you don't belong, they'll eat you alive."

"I have clothes at home," I insisted. "Perfectly fine clothes. I don't need…"

"Amy." His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "You're not a little girl anymore. You're about to become one of the most powerful women in New York. You need to dress like it."

He took my hand, his grip warm and strong, and started leading me toward the door.

"Wait, where are we going?" I asked, stumbling after him.

"Shopping," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Shopping?" I repeated, my eyes widening. "Richard, I don't have time for shopping. My mother is in the hospital. I need to see her."

"And you will," he said calmly. "But first, you're going to look like the Luna you're about to become. End of discussion."

He dragged me out of the mansion and into the back of a sleek black SUV. The driver was already waiting, as if he'd known we were coming.

We drove through the streets of Darkwood Pack, and I couldn't help but stare out the window. The neighborhood was bustling with activity, shops and cafes, parks and schools, all thriving with life. It was nothing like the slum it used to be.

Richard had done this. He'd built all of this from nothing.

The SUV pulled up to a boutique so elegant it looked like it belonged in Paris. The windows were large and pristine, displaying mannequins in stunning designer dresses. I felt underdressed just looking at it.

We stepped inside, and I was immediately surrounded by racks of clothes that probably cost more than my monthly rent. A saleswoman rushed over, beaming at Richard.

"Alpha Wellington! What a pleasure. How can we assist you today?"

"My future Luna needs a new wardrobe," Richard said, his voice cool and commanding. "I want her to have everything, dresses, suits, casual wear, lingerie. Something for every occasion."

The saleswoman's eyes lit up. "Of course, Alpha. Right this way, Miss..."

"Mrs. Wellington,” Richard responded before I could and the sales woman nodded.

She led me to a fitting room, and before I knew it, I was being handed armfuls of clothes. Dresses in silk and satin, blouses in soft pastels, tailored pantsuits in bold colors. Everything was exquisite, luxurious, and completely out of my league.

I tried on outfit after outfit, coming out to model for Richard each time. He sat in a plush armchair, his legs crossed, his eyes raking over me with an intensity that made my skin tingle.

"That one," he said, approving a simple green dress that matched his eyes. "And that one. And that one."

"Richard, this is too much," I protested. "I can't let you buy all of this."

"You're not letting me," he said, his lips quirking. "I'm doing it whether you like it or not. Consider it an investment."

"An investment?"

"Mm-hmm." He stood and walked toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. "I want everyone who looks at you to see what you're worth. And as my Luna, you're worth everything in this store and more."

My breath caught in my throat. His words were so sincere, so matter-of-fact, that I almost believed him.

He handed a black card to the saleswoman. "Wrap everything up and have it delivered to my mansion."

"Of course, Alpha."

I changed into one of the casual wears before Richard took my hand again and led me out of the boutique.

Back in the car, I was still reeling from the shopping spree when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, my heart lurching when I saw the caller ID.

It was the City Hospital.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice trembling.

"Miss Hart? This is Nurse Patricia. Your mother is awake."