Reborn Exposed: The Fake Fate Mate

I collapsed by the roadside when my wolf soul slipped out of balance. A man pushing a stroller was the one who “saved” me.

But when I got home after work, he was already there—inside my house. He smiled tenderly and called me, “Darling.”

I froze in shock. My mother only pushed the sleeping pup into my arms, her voice deliberately soft.

“The accident was half a year ago. How can you forget your pup and your mate again?”

Holding the pup, I felt like I was trapped in a dream. But the warmth in my arms, the scent of shared blood, was undeniably real.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. Yes—it carried the smell of my own bloodline.

But inside my head, my wolf Emma roared sharply and franticly: “It’s all a lie!”

I ran to the hospital and pulled the records. They showed every detail of a pregnancy I couldn’t even remember. Even the healer who had treated me after the crash frowned, muttering that something didn’t add up.

I let myself believe. Even as Emma screamed my name in panic, I clutched my phone with trembling hands until I dropped it, finally surrendering to the “truth.”

And so I accepted it—becoming mate to the lowest rank of wolf, working myself into the ground just to feed the family.

Over the years, my wolf power drained dry. By the time I was forty, there was no strength left in me; even moonlight couldn’t heal me anymore.

In the end, the son I had raised with my own hands took everything—every coin, every scrap of my property—and left me with nothing but cruel words:

“If it weren’t for your money, I never would’ve called you mom.”

The betrayal of my blood shattered me. Blood poured from my mouth, choking me, drowning out even the dust of the streets.

And I died—alone, cold, disgraced.

Yet the Moon Goddess was merciful. She opened my eyes once again.

And once again—that man approached, pushing a stroller.

Fear lanced through me. My soul tilted toward collapse. My wolf Emma trembled violently, sensing the same doom.

His scent hit me—familiar, overwhelming—the intoxicating pull of a Fate Mate bond.

My mind went hazy.

“Run!” Emma’s scream split through my skull.

Memories of dying in the gutter ripped back into me. My pupils narrowed; my body stiffened.

But worse than the fear—was the addiction. That bond still clung to my soul.

Why was my supposed Fate Mate such a worthless wolf? He couldn’t even pick up his own socks, never once touched the laundry basket.

While I slaved and broke my body to keep us alive, he drank on my couch, vomiting filth for me to clean.

I begged to sever the Moon Goddess’s bond.

But my mother only pressed the pup into my arms, her voice soft, almost scolding:

“He’s your Fate Mate. Why can’t you be patient with him?”

Emma’s growl rang in my head: “Wrong! It’s all wrong!”

Yet every time, the scent of blood, the pull of the bond, dragged me back into the nightmare.

So, I died on the street one frozen winter. Still not knowing why the Moon Goddess cursed me with him. Still not knowing if my memory loss was accident—or a seal placed on me.

Now, as the pain stabbed like silver needles, I clung to the railing just to stay upright.

And Michael came closer.