“We’re almost there,” I whispered softly. “Just a little longer.”
Today wasn’t just the official launch of the platform. It was supposed to be the day I reclaimed something. My name. My effort.
I turned away from the mirror, reaching for my bag—
And that’s when I saw it. An envelope. Placed neatly on the bed.
My steps slowed as I approached it, a strange heaviness settling in my chest.
I already knew what it was. Still, I picked it up. Opened it. Inside were the papers. The divorce documents. And the formal notice of my resignation as Luna of the Foreshadow Pack.
My fingers traced the edge of the paper, the weight of it grounding me.
This was it. No turning back. No more hesitation.
I slid the documents back into the envelope and placed it carefully inside my bag.
Then I straightened.
“It ends today,” I murmured.
---
The company building stood tall and imposing, its glass exterior reflecting the morning light.
For a moment, I paused at the entrance.
Memories flickered through my mind.
Late nights. Endless discussions. Ideas scribbled across papers. This place… wasn’t just his. It was mine too.
Or at least—It was supposed to be.
I stepped inside. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, employees moving quickly, preparing for the launch event. Screens displayed the platform’s interface, polished and refined.
My creation. Or what used to feel like it.
I didn’t linger. My steps carried me straight to the top floor. To his office.
I knocked once before opening the door. And there she was. Faye.
Sitting comfortably on the sofa, her phone held up as she smiled brightly at the screen.
“Oh, Luna!” she greeted cheerfully, as if we were friends. “Good morning!”
The word Luna felt almost mocking now.
Her camera tilted slightly, catching me in the frame.
“She’s here too,” she added lightly to her viewers.
Streaming. In his office. Of course she was.
I didn’t respond. My gaze shifted to Alpha Cain, who sat behind his desk, reviewing something casually.
“I need your signature,” I said, walking toward him.
He barely looked up. “What is it?”
“Just some documents,” I replied smoothly, placing the envelope in front of him. “Company-related.”
That wasn’t entirely a lie. In a way… it was.
He hummed in acknowledgment, already reaching for a pen.
“Leave it there.”
He didn’t even ask. Didn’t even check. Didn’t even glance at the contents.
That was how much he trusted me. Or maybe—That was how little he cared.