Chapter 2: My husband had sex with my stepmother

Lyra's POV

My stomach begins to churn. Suppressing nausea, I look through the crack in the door.

The woman is sitting naked on Vern's muscular body, swaying. Her breasts are bouncing, their naked bodies entwined together.

I cover my mouth, retching uncontrollably.

She is Vern's stepmother, Sylvia O'Brien.

I stare at the scene, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

Vern's cock is inserted in his stepmother's cunt—a place Vern's father has also reached. The realization hits me in waves, each one more sickening than the last.

I had thought Vern's attentiveness to Sylvia was out of respect, but never expected this is his twisted way of showing loyalty.

"But if she finds out I was the one who hurt her poor mother, she'll hate me, won't she?"

The words register slowly. I was the one who hurt her poor mother.

My mind stutters, trying to process. Her poor mother. My mother. The hit-and-run driver.

I freeze in place, blood flowing backward.

Elle wants to rush out and bite through her throat. The hit-and-run driver is actually her!

"Don't worry. It's just a minor car accident, isn't it? You're still too kind-hearted. I'm sure Lyra won't blame you for it. After all, she still has to depend on me, her sister still needs my money to survive—isn't that why she married me?"

Vern's careless voice sounds, followed by a low grunt. "Tighten up for me, you slut. Am I not fucking you well enough that your mind wanders to other things?"

Sylvia's voice rises higher, even louder than before, her moans echoing through the door.

I stand frozen in the hallway, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms that I can almost feel the skin breaking.

Sylvia killed my mother.

The thought repeats in my mind, over and over, until it finally sinks in. Yet in Vern's eyes it's nothing more than a trivial matter.

The image of my husband I've held in my heart for four years shatters completely in this instant.

All my forbearance, dedication, and devotion have become nothing but a cover for their filthy affair. And now, my mother's death has become nothing more than pillow talk to spice up their fucking!

Tears flow uncontrollably down my face.

Elle howls in my body. "Tear that bitch's mouth apart, kill her!"

I take a deep breath and kick the door open with one foot.

Sylvia screamed and threw herself into Vern's arms.

Vern leaned against the bed, watching me with no trace of panic—only the pre-shift glow flickering in his eyes, the kind that comes when a wolf is provoked.

"Who gave you permission to enter?"

His tone carried undisguised accusation and disgust, without even a hint of the guilt one might expect from being caught.

His contemptuous attitude showed he wouldn't even bother pretending.

My heart clenched again. "I heard everything."

"So what?" He spoke dismissively, gently draping his shirt over Sylvia's shoulders.

That same tenderness had once been mine, though his eyes had always held something complicated—something I'd mistaken for love.

But now, seeing the contrast, I understood. What he'd shown me was barely restrained revulsion. What he gave Sylvia was true love.

Elle grew more anguished inside me, her claws scraping as if trying to tear through my ribs. We weren't mates, but he had bonded me. His disgust made us suffer—a soul-deep agony.

"You make me sick. I'm severing our bond for good!"

Vern's lips curled into a contemptuous smile as he stood and walked toward me.

"And if I refuse?"

My instinct was to retreat, but I held my ground.

"Let me go! Or else—"

His cock hadn't fully softened yet, still glistening with fluid—Sylvia's. My stomach churned. I turned my head away.

"Or else I'll find my own way to deal with this!"

Vern gripped my chin, forcing me to face him. "Are you joking, Lyra? Give up your comfortable life? Who'll pay for your sister's medical bills then? Find your own way? What way could a parasite possibly have? A leech clinging to me has no right to make demands."

So that's what I was to him. A parasite.

My heart was breaking. With every ounce of strength I had, I shouted at him: "I'll go to the Council! Let them handle it! Your scandal will be known to everyone!"

"Ah!" Before I could finish, overwhelming Alpha aura crushed down on me, forcing me to my knees.

It squeezed my body and organs, making even breathing difficult. Vern stood before me, looking down, as if emphasizing the gap between us, warning me to know my place.

His gaze was so cold it felt like my heart had been plunged into ice water, its rhythm slowing. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. My entire body trembled uncontrollably.

"Alright, Vern, she's young and naive—it's understandable. After all, she is your Luna. Don't be so rough."

Sylvia's lazy, saccharine voice drifted over. She walked to Vern's side, nestling into his embrace.

In that moment, the crushing pressure vanished.

She crouched down to look at my disheveled form, a smile playing on her lips. Her red nails traced across my cheek.

"Since you know now, there's no point hiding it anymore. Be a good girl and I'll have Vern pay for your mother and sister's treatment. You can continue enjoying the prestige that comes with being Luna. But here's the thing—I only let Vern bond you out of pity. From now on, that won't be necessary. I won't share him with you anymore. Be smart about this." Her tone was gentle but carried an undeniable command.

"As for your mother—cheap life. A worthless existence, just like you... disposable..."

Her crimson lips formed words that finally pushed me over the edge.

Elle broke through my control, sharp claws piercing through my skin. But before I could shift, Sylvia's foot slammed into my abdomen. Excruciating pain flooded through me.

I couldn't move.

"Pathetic." Sylvia turned back to Vern, leaning against him. "Let's go, Vern."

I saw Vern's steps hesitate, but when Sylvia kissed him, he spoke.

"Lyra, be sensible. Everything can stay as it was. I'll have a doctor come treat your wound." He walked away without looking back, leaving me sprawled on the floor.

Echoing in my mind were his words from four years ago: "Marry me, and I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

I finally saw reality clearly. The door clicked shut.

Their footsteps faded down the hallway. And I was alone—truly, utterly alone.

I don't know how long I lay there.

The pain in my abdomen gradually dulled from sharp agony to a throbbing ache.

My breathing slowly steadied. When I finally gathered enough strength to move, I dragged myself up, inch by inch, using the wall for support.

Mom was dead.

Vern had betrayed me.

Sylvia had killed my mother and felt nothing.

I had no money, no power, no way out. Mia's treatment fees were overdue, and without Vern's support, she would die too.

Everything I'd sacrificed, everything I'd endured for four years—it had all been for nothing.

I wiped away my tears with trembling hands and grabbed some gauze to roughly dress my wound.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside me. Elle whimpered, broken and beaten. We had nothing left. No hope. No future.

This was it. This was how my story ended—discarded like trash, powerless and alone.

My phone vibrates.

The sound cuts through my despair like a knife.

I stare at it, lying on the blood-stained floor beside me.

Who would be calling me?

Vern had blocked me. I had no friends—Sylvia had made sure of that years ago, isolating me completely.

The hospital had already declared Mom dead.

Who?

With numb fingers, I pick up the phone.

An unfamiliar number glows on the screen. My hand shakes as I answer.

"Hello?" My voice is barely a whisper.

"Is this Lyra? Great, I finally got through!" An unfamiliar female voice, warm and urgent, floods through the speaker.

"I'm your mother—you might be surprised, but you truly are the biological daughter your father and I lost eighteen years ago. Where are you? We'll come pick you up and bring you home."

My head explodes with a buzzing sound.

My biological mother?

Now? After everything?