What Does 'I Left During His Houney' Mean In The Book?

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found another woman’s lace thong in my bedroom. My husband, Mark Donovan, stood in front of the closet and said coldly, “She’s just a kid, Leslie. Don’t make this ugly.” That “kid” was pregnant with his child. That “kid” had already moved into my home, worn his shirts, slept in my bed, and made him cut down the magnolia tree my dead parents planted for me. Everyone in the Donovan family thought I would scream, cry, and beg. After all, I had loved Mark for nine years. But this time, I only picked up my suitcase. Because they didn’t know one thing. The divorce had already been filed. The Donovan wife’s emerald brooch had already been returned. And the evidence against his precious little mistress had already been delivered to the old Don. Mark thought I was walking out of his mansion. He didn’t know I was walking out of his life. Forever.

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

It was our seventh bonding anniversary. However, Xavier Ashton, the Alpha who controlled everything, brought home his pregnant lover. For the past seven years, he worshipped me. He would kiss my hand in front of everyone and say I was his moon, the only Luna of his life. Yet now, his hand rested on another she-wolf's belly, as if showcasing a miracle. "She's carrying my first pup. You have the Moon Goddess's power. I want you to bless her. Also, she's been having nightmares during the pregnancy, so she'll take the main bedroom." I froze, almost convinced I had misheard him. "Are you joking? That's my room!" He looked up, his tone carrying a warning. "From today, it's hers." Anger nearly made me laugh. My voice shook, but it was clear. "You got some lowly Omega she-wolf pregnant and brought her into our home? Xavier Ashton, you've completely lost your mind!" "I won't say this a third time. Move out now." His aura turned ice-cold in an instant. His Alpha pressure hit me head-on, making my wolf whimper inside me. He thought I would obediently submit, but he did not know that I had already packed my bags weeks ago, when I received the video of his affair. As I walked toward the front door, I heard him sneer behind me, "Let her throw a tantrum. She'll come crawling back in less than three days." The pack members snickered behind me, already betting on how many days I would last this time. However, the private car sent to pick me up was already waiting at the door. This time, I was cutting ties with him for good.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

Three years into my arranged marriage with the Valachi family heir, the one that got away came back. He left me for Julia eight times. The ninth time, he left me bleeding on the side of the road with a gunshot wound to go running to Julia, who’d called him because she felt a little dizzy. "She needs me. You get that, right, Leona?" This time, I didn't fight for him. He didn't know about the bet I’d made with Julia. The ninth time he abandoned me, I would be the one to leave for good. So on his birthday, I left a set of signed divorce papers on his desk and got on a plane.

In a pack, your mate comes before everything else. But my boyfriend Kyle always put Lina first. When my fever hit 104°F and I needed him most, he was out patrolling with Lina. He said, "You're still able to call me, aren't you? How sick can you be?" Later, when my back injury flared up again, he was helping Lina move. On my birthday, he was buying Lina a moonstone pendant. But back when I asked him for a gift, he said, "I love you. You know that. I just don't like giving gifts. It feels too formal." That was the moment I finally understood. He never hated giving gifts. He just never wanted to give me one. On the day I left, he chose Lina again, as always. I just quietly packed my things. He didn't know that today was the day I would leave him for good.