He Faked His Death in My Sister's Bed
1.1k Views · Ongoing · Juniper Marlow
My mate died throwing himself between me and a band of rogues.
He left me a twelve-million-dollar debt and a son who wasn't even one yet.
For him, I turned away every wolf who came knocking. I never went looking for a second chance mate. I worked until my body gave out, paying off a dead man's debts one dollar at a time.
Then, on the anniversary of his death, I walked into the wrong hotel suite.
My dead mate was alive. And he was in bed with my stepsister.
They were laughing about the stupid little Omega still crying over his grave, and about the son I'd carried, who was never mine at all.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I eased the door shut, walked into my meeting, and started planning their real funeral.
He left me a twelve-million-dollar debt and a son who wasn't even one yet.
For him, I turned away every wolf who came knocking. I never went looking for a second chance mate. I worked until my body gave out, paying off a dead man's debts one dollar at a time.
Then, on the anniversary of his death, I walked into the wrong hotel suite.
My dead mate was alive. And he was in bed with my stepsister.
They were laughing about the stupid little Omega still crying over his grave, and about the son I'd carried, who was never mine at all.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I eased the door shut, walked into my meeting, and started planning their real funeral.


























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