Dimanjakan sang Majikan Tampan

My family was attacked by rogue wolves when we entered their territory. My wolf was gravely injured, and in the end, I was the one who saved everyone.

As I collapsed, exhausted, no one came to me—they all ran to my adopted sister, Fiona, fussing over a few shallow scratches.

By the time pack members carried me to the infirmary, the healer delivered the cruel news: my wolf had been struck by a silver dagger, and the one-month-old pup in my womb wouldn’t survive.

Yet my mate, Luke, had given the only life-saving treatment to Fiona.

With no other choice, I refused the healer’s remedies and numbed my wolf’s pain with crude herbs—knowing it would only buy us three days before death.

In those last days, I let everything go.

I gave Fiona all my possessions and insurance money while my parents smiled in approval.

I signed the bond-severing agreement Luke slid across the table without a second thought. Luke was satisfied, believing I was considerate.

Kane, my brother, nodded his head when I told him to give my room to Fiona.

Even my son, Jim, squealed with joy when I asked him to call her “mom.”

No one questioned why I gave all my belongings to Fiona, and their approving gazes said it all: “Good. The old Emma is back.”

But as the clock ticked down, one thought haunted me:

When they find our bodies—my wolf and my unborn pup—will that satisfaction turn to regret?

---

I forced down the bitter herbs under the watchful eyes of the healers.

Three days. That was all I had left to live.

After choking down the medicine, I dragged myself to Fiona’s room—only to find them there. My father was meticulously peeling apples for her, while my mother gazed at her with a smile so warm it could melt winter frost. They were laughing, sharing some private joke, their faces alight with affection.

Then they saw me. The laughter died. Their smiles hardened into ice.

"Emma." My father’s voice was a blade, sharp and merciless. "Still pretending to be sick? We know the truth—you were never ill. Did you come here just to torment Fiona again?"

My mother’s lip curled in disgust as she jabbed a finger at me.

"You’ve always been jealous of Fiona. How dare you steal her chance at treatment? I never imagined my own flesh and blood could sink so low—plotting against her adopted sister like some petty villain!"

"No matter what tricks you pull, Fiona will always be better than you."

"In our eyes, she’s already won."

At my mother’s words, my gaze flicked to Fiona—her lips curled in a smug, triumphant smile, one my parents didn’t see.

A bitter laugh escaped me. How many times had I heard this before?

Once, I would have fought back. I would have screamed that Fiona was the liar, the schemer, the one playing them all for fools. But I would not do it anymore.

What was the point? They’d never believe me.

Then my father spoke, "Emma, we need to talk."

I forced a smile. "Of course, father. In fact, I have something to say too."

"I’ve decided to sign over my companies to Fiona. After all… she’s wanted them for so long."

The room froze.

My father stiffened. My mother’s eyes widened, suspicion flickering across her face.

"How did you—?"

Father began, then he caught himself. "So… you’re agreeing?"

I nodded.

Of course they were shocked. For years, they’d begged, demanded, and even forced me to hand over everything I’d built—while Fiona watched with those deceptively sweet eyes.

But now? None of it mattered.

I was dying.

"Oh, Emma!" Mother’s face lit up.

"This is the right choice. Fiona is far more capable than you—so sharp, so gifted—your companies will thrive under her!"

The door swung open.

"Wait—what? Did I hear correctly?"

Kane strode in, clutching a bouquet of Fiona’s favorite flowers. Kane's gaze shifted to me, carrying an intensity I hadn't anticipated.

"She agreed," Father said, a proud gleam in his eyes.

"Finally." Kane exhaled, as if I were the unreasonable one all along.

Without another glance at me, he turned to Fiona, pressing the flowers into her hands. "Congratulations. I always knew you’d surpass Emma. You were born for this."

Inside, my wolf howled—a sound of raw, bleeding agony.

But outwardly? I smiled.

"Here’s the contract." I slid the papers toward Fiona, my voice steady.

"Sign it, and everything I own is yours."

The scratch of her pen was deafening.

"Oh, Emma," Mother cooed, her voice dripping with false warmth.

"You’re learning. This is what ‘family’ does."

Kane squeezed my hand, his eyes gentle.

"I’m proud of you. It’s good to see you’re not so selfish anymore."

I couldn’t help muttering to my wolf, “How ridiculous is it that my parents only showed me kindness after realizing I’d sacrificed everything for Fiona?”

Kane refused to speak to me civilly until he discovered I could hand over my companies to her.

But I wonder—will they regret it when they finally learn how long Fiona has betrayed them? Will they weep when they find I’m already dead?

That evening, I returned to my den. Luke and Jim were laughing together, busy making ice cream—Fiona’s favorite, mango ice cream.

They didn’t notice me enter the dining hall, too absorbed in their joy.

But the moment Luke turned and saw me, his smile shattered.

"Emma… When did you get back? Weren’t you staying in the infirmary?"

I said nothing, my gaze locked on the ice cream in his hands.

Mango.

The fruit I was deathly allergic to.

The fruit Fiona adored.

Six years of mating. Six years—and he never once remembered.

He’d never made ice cream for me.

Yet here he was, learning a new skill—for her.

A memory flashed—last month, Jim had begged for mango cake. I’d endured the itching, the burning rash, and the swollen throat, just to make it for him.

And what did he say?

"Can’t you pretend not to be so sensitive? Why can’t you be honest like Fiona?"

My chest ached, but no tears came.

The mate I’d bound myself to for six years.

Even my own son, neither cared for me. Not even enough to remember I could die from a single bite.

Once, I would have screamed. Throwing things and demanding answers.

But now? I just walked past them.

But then—Luke followed me.

For a fleeting second, I let myself hope.

"Emma… I need to ask you something."

My heart stuttered. He’d never begged me for anything before.

"It’s about Fiona."

And just like that—hope died.

"She’s… not well," he continued, voice strained.

"The rogue wolves left her traumatized. She cries every night. The healer says… the only way to heal her wolf is for her to find a mate."

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"Your parents asked me to sever our bond. So I can claim her."

The clothes slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the floor. I stood frozen, hollow.