Grace POV

"You misunderstood what you saw."

Damien's voice is calm. Reasonable. Like he's explaining basic math to a child who keeps getting the answer wrong.

Disbelief crashes over me. He's actually—he's actually going to lie.

"I was there," I say slowly, carefully, like I'm the one who needs to speak clearly. "I watched you—"

"You watched me comforting my brother's widow." He cuts me off, patient. Patronizing. "Lilith has been through hell, Grace. She lost her mate. She needed support, and I was providing it."

The gaslighting is so smooth, so practiced, that for one horrible second I doubt myself. Did I misunderstand?

Then fury ignites.

"Support?" The word tastes like poison. "You were inside her—"

"That's enough." His eyes flash warning. "You're hysterical. Making up scenarios that didn't happen."

Hysterical. The word every man uses when a woman dares to be angry.

Rage and disbelief tangle in my throat. He's rewriting reality right in front of me, expecting me to accept his version over what I saw with my own eyes.

Lilith straightens in his arms, tears miraculously drying. "Grace, please." Her voice trembles perfectly. "I'm so sorry you're upset. This is all my fault."

The performance is flawless. I want to claw her eyes out.

"You're damn right it's your fault—"

"I loved him." Fresh tears fill her eyes on cue. "Damien's brother. I loved him so much, but he—he wasn't kind to me. The marriage was—it wasn't what I hoped. And when he died, I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to."

Manipulation drips from every word. But I see Damien's expression soften, see him buying every syllable.

She presses closer to him, fingers clutching his chest. "Damien has been so good to me. So generous. Letting me stay here, making sure I'm taken care of." Her voice breaks perfectly. "I know I shouldn't have developed feelings for him. I know it's wrong. But I can't help it. I love him, Grace. I'm sorry, but I do."

The confession should shock him. Should make him pull away.

Instead, he holds her tighter.

Betrayal cuts deeper than the first time. He wants this. He wants her.

"How noble of you to confess." I bare my teeth. "After you orchestrated the whole thing."

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Luka." I turn to the Beta, desperation clawing at my composure. "Tell him. Tell Damien what she said to you. How she congratulated you for sending me to the hot spring."

Luka's face goes carefully blank. "I don't recall—"

The floor drops out from under me.

"You're lying." My voice cracks. "I heard you. Both of you."

But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. Did I hear wrong? Am I losing my mind?

"Grace." Damien sighs like I'm exhausting him, like I'm a burden he's tired of carrying. "You're not well. The stress of pack duties, your—condition. It's clearly affecting your judgment."

Shame floods hot and immediate. My condition.

"Being wolfless." He says it gently. Kindly. Like he's sorry for me, like it's a terminal diagnosis. "It takes a toll. I understand that. But you can't let your insecurities make you paranoid."

Insecurities. He's weaponizing my deepest wound against me.

"I'm not paranoid—"

"You are." He strokes Lilith's hair, tender and possessive. "You're imagining betrayals that don't exist. Creating scenarios in your head. The pain you're feeling—it's not real, Grace. It's psychological."

Rage explodes through the shame. I know what I saw.

"The bond—"

"There is no bond pain." His voice hardens. "Because nothing happened. I helped a grieving woman. That's all."

The gaslighting is complete. Total. He's not just denying reality—he's convincing me to doubt my own sanity.

Lilith nods, the picture of innocent distress. "I would never try to come between mates. Never. I know how sacred the bond is."

Then Damien leans down and kisses her.

Not comfort. Not reassurance. A real kiss—slow, deep, claiming. His mouth devours hers while I stand three feet away, invisible.

The bond screams. Not with pain but with the agony of being completely, utterly dismissed.

When he pulls back, Lilith's eyes are hazy with satisfaction.

"You see?" Damien looks at me like I'm stupid. "I'm helping her heal. Giving her the affection she was denied in her marriage. There's nothing wrong with that."

Something inside me shatters.

The careful control I've maintained fractures completely. My hand flies toward his face—not thinking, just needing to make contact, needing to hurt him the way he's hurting me.

Luka catches my wrist mid-swing, grip iron.

"Luna Grace." His voice is formal. Empty. "Please control yourself."

The humiliation is complete. I'm the hysterical wife. The paranoid Luna. The problem that needs to be controlled.

"Let go of me—"

"Enough." Damien's Alpha command rolls through the room, pressing down on me with suffocating weight. "This is pathetic, Grace. You're embarrassing yourself."

I'm embarrassing myself?

"You're fucking another woman and I'm the embarrassment?" The laugh that tears out of me sounds manic even to my own ears.

"There is no other woman." Each word is precisely enunciated, like he's talking to someone very slow. "There's a widow I'm helping and a mate who's lost her mind. Stop inventing fantasies to explain why you're inadequate."

The word hits like a fist. Inadequate.

All my fears, all my insecurities, wrapped up in one devastating truth.

Cold clarity washes over me. This is it. This is the moment I either break completely or fight back.

"I want a divorce."

Silence crashes down like a physical weight.

Damien's expression goes very still. Dangerous. "What did you say?"

"A divorce." My voice shakes but holds. "I'm done. I'm filing a petition with the Elder Council. And then I'm taking what's left of Aurorawisp Pack and leaving."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me." I yank against Luka's grip uselessly. "The Council will hear my case. They'll grant the separation. And you can have your precious Lilith without any inconvenient wife getting in the way."

Lilith gasps. "Grace, no—"

"Shut up." I can't look at her. Won't. "You won. Congratulations. But I'm not staying to watch you play Luna in my place."

Damien sets Lilith gently on the bed—gently, like she's precious—then turns to me with measured, predatory steps.

I lift my chin. "Hit me. Go ahead. It won't change anything."

His hand moves faster than I can track.

The slap snaps my head sideways. White light explodes. Pain blooms sharp and clarifying.

But beneath it—vindication. He hit me. Finally showed everyone what I've known all along.

I hit the floor hard. Blood fills my mouth.

"You will not divorce me." His voice is ice. "You will not petition the Council. You will not take Aurorawisp Pack anywhere. Do you understand?"

I push myself up on trembling arms, tasting copper and defiance.

"You don't own me."

"I own every inch of this territory." He crouches down, face level with mine. "Including you. You're my Luna. My mate. And you'll stay exactly where I put you until I decide otherwise."

"The Council—"

"Won't hear a word you say." His smile is cruel. "Because you won't be at the gathering. You won't be anywhere."

Panic claws up my throat. He's going to lock me away.

"Luka. Take her to her room. Lock her in. Post guards."

The prison sentence lands like stones.

"You can't—"

"I can." He looks at me like I'm dirt. "I'm Alpha. I can do whatever I want."

Luka hauls me to my feet. Defeat crashes over me, heavy and suffocating.

"Damien—" Lilith's voice wavers. "She's hurt. Maybe we should—"

"You're too kind." He cups her face with both hands. "Always thinking of others, even when they don't deserve it. That's why I—"

He stops. Smiles. Kisses her forehead.

"That's why you're special."

Lilith's face glows. Then she looks past him at me, and for one second, pure triumph curves her lips.

Mission accomplished.

Then her eyes roll back and she crumples.

Perfect timing. Perfect performance.

"Lilith!" Damien catches her, panic flooding his features. "Baby, wake up—"

He doesn't even glance at me. Just steps over my body like I'm furniture.

Like I'm nothing.