My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 01

My Alpha Mate Stole Our Daughter’s Heart for His Mistress’s Son Chapter 01

My mate, the Alpha of the Shadowmoon Pack, tore our seven-year-old daughter’s organ out right in front of my eyes.

He ripped it from her torso just to implant it into his true love’s son, securing the boy’s place as the next pack heir.

He butchered our seven years of lives.

“I only married that woman to give Dylan the perfect cover to inherit,” Andrew Walsh sneered, his hands dripping with our daughter’s vital fluid.

“I forced myself to endure her for seven miserable years. I’ve been sick of her for a lifetime.”

“Her daughter was a weak runt anyway—couldn’t even awaken her wolf spirit. Being a vessel to transfer the ‘Moon-Organ’ to Dylan is the only useful thing the freak ever accomplished.”

…

My name is Claire Green. I was the Luna—the mate of the Shadowmoon Alpha, Andrew Walsh. We had been married for seven years, blessed with a sweet, obedient little girl.

Our daughter took after my human side, showing none of the dominant, vicious traits of the werewolf lineage. Back then, Andrew used to look at her and say, half-joking:

“Mia is so lovely, she doesn’t look like a wolf’s pup at all.”

I never read into his playful comments. I truly believed I was living a fairytale that would last forever.

But one evening, I made Andrew’s favorite beef pot roast. He called saying pack business ran late and he had to work overtime at the packhouse.

Hoping to surprise him, I packed the hot food into a container and walked down to his office.

I was just outside the door when I overheard a hushed conversation between Andrew and his Beta assistant.

“Alpha, the compatibility tests you ordered are back,” the Beta whispered. “It’s a 99.9% match. The doctors say the Moon-Organ is currently at its most stable state. The extraction can proceed at any time.”

“Fantastic!” Andrew’s voice boomed with a dark, unbridled joy. “Dylan’s congenital spirit defect can finally be cured. I don’t have to play the doting husband anymore. Seven years… God, looking at that pathetic woman Claire and her weak runt Mia made me want to vomit every single day.”

“When shall we schedule the harvest and transfer?”

“Let’s do it on—”

Someone down the hall suddenly called out for the Alpha. Panicking, I spun on my heel and bolted down the corridor.

But I wasn’t fast enough. Andrew stepped out of the office, his eyes locking onto me, a brief flash of sheer panic crossing his features.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Forcing my trembling knees to lock, I put on a tight smile and held up the thermal container. “I just got here. Look, I made your favorite beef pot roast.”

The tension drained from his shoulders instantly.

“Just leave it on the desk. I’ll eat after the meeting. Go back to the house, don’t wait up for me.”

The moment he walked away, the dam broke. I fled into the nearest restroom, locked the stall door, and choked back a sob as tears flooded my face.

Every ounce of my happiness was a calculated lie. Every touch, every smile—he had been putting on a performance.

I don’t even remember how I dragged myself back to our cottage. By the time I made it home, my daughter was already tucked into bed.

“Mama, you’re finally home. I couldn’t sleep without you.”

The second I crept into the bedroom, Mia sat up. Her eyes caught my red, swollen face, and she reached out, clutching my hand with small, cautious fingers.

“Mama… are you sad? Did you cry?”

“Don’t be sad, Mama. Mia was so good today. Look, the teacher gave me a Good Job sticker! I want to give it to you!”

She carefully peeled the shiny sticker off her school uniform and pressed it into my palm like a precious treasure.

I squeezed her tiny hand, fighting back the lump in my throat. “Mama isn’t sad, sweetie. Just a little tired. Come on, go to sleep. You have school early tomorrow, and Mama needs to rest too.”

I stroked her soft hair, holding my breath so she wouldn’t hear me shatter.

“Okay. Goodnight, Mama. I love you.”

Looking at her innocent, lovely face, my vision blurred again.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

An overwhelming wave of dread crashed over me. Why did Andrew have to fake a marriage for seven whole years?

Who was Dylan?

What did he mean by “finally cured”?

What kind of surgery were they planning?

The more I pieced it together, the more terrified I became. Whatever it was, it was monstrous.

Since our love was nothing but a sickening facade, I had to end this marriage immediately. I couldn’t let Mia be affected by the fallout—and above all, I couldn’t let anyone hurt her.

Leaving my daughter’s room, the tears flowed unchecked.

My torso ached with a physical, agonizing pain, a suffocating dread paralyzing my senses. I told myself I had to take my daughter and run.

Wiping my eyes, I dialed my lawyer’s number, asking her to draft a formal mating-bond dissolution agreement.

Once the choice was made, I began to pack.

I hadn’t brought much with me when I first married into the pack, so even though Andrew and I shared a massive master suite, almost everything in it consisted of things he had bought for me over the years.

The walls were lined with framed photos of our smiling faces. The dresser was covered in matching couples’ trinkets, carefully arranged…

Finally, at the very bottom of the nightstand drawer, my hand brushed against a frayed, cheap little braided bracelet.

I froze. A memory I thought had been buried under seven years of lies suddenly rushed back, vivid and oozing.