The Alpha's Fake Mate’

Poppy~

The black dress hugs my body perfectly, tears blur my eyes, the silky fabric cool against my heated skin. 

I stand before the mirror, turning slowly, watching how the light catches the delicate neckline. The white stiletto heels give me height and grace, making me feel elegant, desired. My heart flutters with hope I have not allowed myself in months. Six years of marriage. Six years of holding on through the tears, the empty nursery, the quiet ache that follows every miscarriage. Tonight feels like healing. Like renewal.

Barid sent the dress himself. The gesture lingers warmly in my chest. Maybe he feels it too; the distance that has grown between us, the way our bond has strained under the weight of loss. Tonight, he wants to remind me that we are still us. Still fated.

I smooth my hands down the fabric one last time, a smile curving my lips. My golden-amber eyes look brighter than they have in weeks.

Mr. Brooks waits patiently by the car outside our home. His weathered face softens when he sees me. “You look radiant tonight, Luna Poppy. Like the moon herself.”

A gentle laugh escapes me, warmth spreading through my chest. “Thank you, Mr. Brooks. I can’t believe he planned all of this. It feels special.”

The drive to the event hall passes in a gentle haze of anticipation. Streetlights fade past the windows while I imagine what Barid has prepared. A private dinner? A renewal of vows? My fingers trace the edge of my dress, excitement bubbling like champagne in my veins.

When we arrive, the grand hall glows with crystal chandeliers and soft golden lighting. Familiar faces fill the space: elders of the CreationMoon Pack, high-ranking wolves, business partners from Stoneman Enterprise, and friends who stood beside us on our mating day six years ago. My pulse quickens with joy. He invited everyone who matters. He took the time. He still cares.

Barid’s deep and resonant voice reaches me across the murmurs, “Poppy… come join me on stage, my love.”

My steps feel light as I make my way forward, cheeks warm with happiness. I climb the steps to the podium, my hand slipping into his. His fingers close around mine, firm and familiar. For a heartbeat, everything feels perfect again.

He turns us toward the crowd, our joined hands raised slightly.

“Poppy has always been the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he begins. His voice carries clearly through the hall, warm at first. “Since we were children, she held my heart. I was only a boy then, blind to the world beyond her smile.”

Tears gather at the corners of my eyes. I squeeze his hand, love swelling in my chest that it almost hurts. Memories flood me; stolen kisses in the woods as teenagers, the way he held me through my first shift, the quiet nights we spent dreaming of pups. This is the man I mated. This is my forever.

But then his grip tightens, almost painfully. His tone shifts, growing colder, more distant.

“Now I am a man. And I know better.”

Confusion slips through me. I blink, searching his face for the warmth that was there only seconds ago. The crowd quiets further, sensing the change.

“I can’t hide it anymore.” His words fall heavily. “I want a divorce.”

The air leaves my lungs. My smile freezes, cracking at the edges. A nervous laugh almost escapes me, but it dies in my throat. This cannot be right. I must have misheard him. The lights suddenly feel too bright, the silence too heavy.

“Barid…” My voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?” I tug gently at his hand, desperate for him to look at me the way he used to. My heart pounds so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

He does not flinch. His expression stays calm as if he is delivering a business decision rather than destroying our life together.

“I fell out of love with you a long time ago, Poppy. I am tired of this marriage. Tired of pretending every day.” His gaze finally meets mine. It was cold and detached. “Tonight, in front of everyone who witnessed our mate bond six years ago, I reject you. I break the bond properly.”

The pain hits like a silver blade driven straight into my chest. I gasp softly, my free hand flying to my sternum as the mate bond screams in protest. It feels like invisible claws are tearing at the threads that have connected our souls for years. My vision blurs with hot tears. My legs weaken beneath me, knees trembling inside the elegant dress.

“Barid…” His name slips out broken. Tears spill down my cheeks. “If something is wrong, we can fix it. Please. Don’t do this to us. Not here. Not like this.”

My voice cracks, pleading, and shaking. The entire hall watches in stunned silence. I feel their eyes on me; heavy, pitying, shocked. Humiliation begins to creep in, hot and suffocating, but the pain of the fracturing bond drowns everything else. My breath comes in shallow gasps.

“We just lost another child,” I whisper, my hand pressing harder against my abdomen where the latest loss still aches inside me. “I am still healing. We have been through so much together. We can work through this. Please remember what we promised each other…”

The words taste sour in my mouth. My chest tightens further, the rejection scorching deeper with every second.

“I am in love with someone else.” Those words land like a final strike. 

Before I can even process them, movement catches my eye. Bette Gilda ascends the stage gracefully. The same woman Barid once described as beneath us, a distraction, nothing more. She steps straight into his arms.

Their lips meet in a deep, passionate kiss right in front of me. Right in front of the entire pack.

A strangled sound escapes my throat. The pain in my chest flares into something unbearable, like fire spreading through my veins. The mate bond snaps, sending waves of agony rolling through me. My hands shake. Tears stream freely down my face. I cannot look away from them, from the way he holds her, the way she melts against him. This is real. This is happening.

Barid finally pulls back from the kiss, his arm wrapped possessively around Bette’s waist. His voice remains steady, almost triumphant.

“She carries my child. We are getting married in a few weeks.”

The world tilts. My knees nearly buckle. Cameras flash around us, capturing every humiliating second. Whispers ripple through the crowd like a growing storm. I stand there frozen, the divorce papers suddenly thrust into my trembling hands by his lawyer.

“Sign them, Poppy,” Barid says flatly. “My lawyer will handle the properties and the rest of the assets.”

I stare at the envelope, my fingers numb, unable to close around it properly. The pain in my chest refuses to ease. Every breath feels like glass. Six years. All the love. All the shared dreams. All the nights I cried in his arms after losing our pups. Gone. Publicly.

Without another word, Barid turns and walks off the podium with Bette tucked against his side, leaving me standing alone beneath the blinding lights.

I cannot meet anyone’s eyes. The embarrassment rips harder than the mate bond pain. My legs shake as I descend the steps. I wrap my arms tightly around myself, trying to hold what remains of my dignity together as I walk blindly through the hall. The whispers follow me. The pity. The shock. My vision swims with tears.

A warm coat drapes gently over my shoulders. Steady hands guide me toward the exit.

“Come, Luna,” Mr. Brooks murmurs. “Let’s get you away from here.”

I do not resist. I cannot speak.

In the car, his question comes softly. “Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere,” I whisper, my voice shattering completely. “Just… anywhere but here.”

The city lights streak past like falling stars as silent tears continue to fall. The pain in my chest throbs with every heartbeat. Memories flash unbidden: Barid’s laughter, his gentle touches, the way he once looked at me like I was his entire world. Now it’s all gone.

The car eventually stops near the seaside. The steady crash of waves fills the night air. Mr. Brooks helps me out, his coat still shielding me from the cool breeze.

I walk to the edge of the water, white stilettos sinking into the soft sand. The ocean wind brushes against my tear-stained face. My legs give out. I drop to my knees, a sob tearing from deep within my chest.

I beat my fist against my sternum, desperate to ease the agony that refuses to fade. The rejected mate bond pulses harder. Wave after wave of grief consumes me, matching the ocean’s rhythm. I cry until my throat dries, until my body shakes uncontrollably, until nothing remains but emptiness and pain.

Then a distant scream pierce through the haze of my sorrow. At first, I ignore them, but they grow louder. A crowd gathers further down the beach.

Mr. Brooks approaches, worry clear in his voice. “We should leave, Luna. This isn’t safe.”

“What is going on?”

“I have no idea. Let’s leave,” he says.

Yet something pulls me forward, the doctor inside me that still sticks to purpose. I rise unsteadily and move toward the commotion.

There, on the sand near the jagged rocks, lies a man.

A strikingly handsome man with dark wavy hair matted with blood. Black shirt and pants soaked crimson. Silver weapons jut out from his neck and right shoulder. A deep gash marks the back of his head. Dark veins of poisoning spread across his skin.

I rush to his side without thinking, the burn of silver scorching my hands as I grip the weapon. I pull away, tearing part of my dress to protect my palms before pulling the weapon free. Pressing hard against his wounds as hot blood spills over my fingers, my own pain fades into the background as I fight to keep him alive.

“Call an ambulance!” I shout hoarsely. “Now!”