Oliver limped over to us, his injured leg clearly causing him pain.
“Mom,” he started, then caught himself. “I mean, Olivia. Can’t we just go home?”
Derek placed a hand on my shoulder, which I immediately shrugged off.
“I’m willing to forget about the credit card issue,” he said magnanimously. “I forgive you for canceling them without telling me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He forgave me? After everything he’d done?
“You forgive me?” I let out a bitter laugh.
Rachel approached cautiously. “Olivia, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding. I never meant to-”
“Stop,” I held up my hand. “Just stop talking.”
I looked at the three of them standing before me–my mate, my son, and the woman who’d tried to take my place.
“There’s a wolf shelter on the outskirts of pack territory,” I said coldly. “They take in homeless wolves.”
Derek’s face fell. “The shelter? But that’s… that’s for strays and outcasts.”
“Which is exactly what you are now,” I replied without emotion.
Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth. “But I’ve heard terrible things about that place. It’s filthy and dangerous!”
Derek grabbed my arm. “Olivia, be reasonable. Think about Oliver. He’s injured!”
I pulled my arm free. “You should have thought about Oliver’s well–being before you took him rock climbing with his existing
injury.”
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ne snert
Unlike the adults, Oliver seemed unconcerned.
“It could be fun!” he said brightly. “Like camping. Dad and I can stay there without asking her.”
He pointed at me as if I were a stranger, and the casual cruelty of it sent a fresh wave of pain through my heart.
“Going to the shelter will be an adventure,” Oliver continued, turning to Rachel. “And when we get our own place, you can be my
real mom forever!”
I smiled coldly at my son. “As you wish. Follow your new mom to the shelter.”
Without another word, I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back once as I pushed through the revolving doors and stepped
into the cool night air.
The drive home was quiet. The roads were empty at this late hour, and for the first time, I wasn’t rushing back to cook dinner for my family or help Oliver with his homework.
As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed how different everything looked already. The clothes that had been scattered across the lawn were gone now, removed by the moving company. The porch light was dark because no one had been there to turn it on.
The silence that greeted me inside was both eerie and liberating. No sounds of Oliver’s video games. No Derek asking about
dinner. Just peaceful quiet.
In the kitchen, I found a bottle of wine I’d been saving for a special occasion. A divorce seemed special enough. I poured myself a generous glass and settled on the couch with my phone.
Out of habit, I opened Instagram and started scrolling. I was about to close the app when a video caught my eye.
It had been posted by a wolf I didn’t know, with a caption: “Drama at the shelter tonight! Rich wolves learning how the other half
lives!”
My finger hovered over the play button for a moment. Did I really want to see this? But curiosity won out, and I tapped the screen.
The video was grainy and shot under harsh fluorescent lights. I immediately recognized Derek standing protectively in front of Rachel, while several rough–looking wolves circled them like predators.
“Look what we got here,” one of the stray wolves whistled, eyeing Rachel. “Too pretty for this place, ain’t ya?”
Rachel pressed herself against the wall, her eyes wide with fear.
“Back off,” Derek growled, his stance widening.
One of the strays–a large, scarred male–stepped forward. “Or what? You gonna stop us, pretty boy?”
The camera shook as a scuffle broke out. Derek lunged at the scarred wolf, but he was quickly overwhelmed by the others. The
video showed him being thrown to the ground, blood flowing from a cut above his eye.
Rachel screamed as one of the wolves moved toward her, backing her further against the wall.
