Fiona’s POV.

Sometimes, your whole world turns upside down when you least expect it.

A few hours ago, I thought my life was finally taking a turn for the better. I was happily married to the formidable Lycan Prince of one of the deadliest werewolf kingdoms. I felt loved and respected, starting to believe that things would continue to be fine.

Until they weren't.

Now, I nervously sit in a sterile hospital room, waiting for the doctor to return with test results as waves of pain assault my stomach. I jump to my feet as soon as she enters, making the room spin around me.

"Was there a child?" I ask immediately, my hand going to touch my stomach as tears well up in my eyes.

She shakes her head.

"No, there was not a child, but there is a problem. You have a rare condition we see in Were-females. It is called Senese Uteri. It means you might never have children in your life."

"W-what? How?" I squeeze the words out as my throat constricts around them, trying to hold them in.

Micah is the Prince of Alastair Kingdom and the most powerful Lycan in our kingdom. He needs to have an heir, better than that, a whole passel of them. The doctor may not know that I'm married to the prince, as our marriage isn't public, but I know that I need to conceive an heir.

Her lips purse, and I feel my heart shatter in my chest.

"This disease causes your uterus to age rapidly, much faster than the rest of your body, which makes the chances of you conceiving really low."

"What are my chances?" I ask, tears now freely running down my cheeks.

"I would say less than ten percent. Even if you get pregnant, it will be a miracle if you can carry the child to term. I will give you medication for the pain and to slow the progression, but there is little chance you can conceive. I'm sorry, Miss Richards." Her eyes are sorrowful as she pats my leg and leaves the room.

Another wave of agony washes over me, and I feel the absence of my wolf more acutely than ever. She stays silently inside of me, not even reacting to the pain we are in.

She has been lying dormant most of my life, causing me to be teased and harassed by others in my pack due to my lack of smell, my lack of a wolf. After my marriage with Micah, I thought my life would be a bit easier, but now, I feel lost and hopeless.

With shaking fingers, I grab my phone from my purse and dial Micah's number, hoping against hope that he will pick up. However, the phone rings and rings, but there is no answer.

Tears blur my vision, staining the screen with their salty tracks. The anguish surging within me is uncontrollable as I watch Micah's name flash on the screen, yet he remains unresponsive.

I muster the strength to leave a message, praying that he'll respond and offer me the support I so desperately need.

"Micah, it's me," I whisper, my voice barely audible through the tears. "I just got some news from the doctor, and it's... it's not good. I really need you right now. Please, please call me back as soon as you can." I'm barely able to finish my sentence before the line goes dead. Or perhaps it's been dead for a while.

Frustration boils up within me, and for a moment, I contemplate flinging my phone against the nearest wall. My voicemail never went through; Micah's phone is powered off now.

A low keening sound erupts from my throat. If I can't conceive… I push those thoughts out of my head. The doctor said the chances were slim, but there was a chance. It is the only way I can keep my husband.

Micah has been gruff but kind throughout our marriage. However, even though he seems to care for me, he must have an heir; he can't stay married to a barren woman.

A nurse walks in and interrupts my depressing thoughts. I try to shake away the dread and cling to the hope that I can conceive, going through the motions with the nurse as she talks about taking medication while stuffing papers and a prescription into my hand.

As I go out into the hallway, a squeak of a shoe has me looking up.

The scene has me frozen in my tracks. I blink twice to ensure that what I am seeing is real.

Micah, my husband, and a woman with long dark hair and swaying hips walk toward the obstetrics wing. I watch as he wraps his arm around her waist.

She puts her head on his shoulder as they slowly walk towards the double doors, disappearing into the hospital wing.

Pain lances through my heart, and I feel my entire body go cold. I know she is Rowena Archer, Micah's ex-girlfriend.

Tears flood my face. She is the reason he isn't answering my calls.

"Miss, are you alright?" A kind nurse comes towards me. I give her a weak smile and try not to look towards the doors they disappeared behind.

“Just a bit dizzy.” She smiles sympathetically, before taking my prescription and escorting me to the nurse's station.

"You stay right here. I just need to go into the back and grab your medication.”

I nod and stand there staring as another nurse swings around the corner, putting a chart on the counter.

Someone calls out to her, and she turns, leaving the chart.

Unconsciously, my gaze falls on the sheet clipped to the chart.

It reads: Rowena Archer, pregnancy test positive. Ultrasound results confirmed.

I stare at the paper until it blurs. The words pound my mind.

Pregnant, Pregnant, Pregnant.

Is it Micah's? Has he been seeing her behind my back?

Has she been back in Alastair for some time, and I was protected from it? Or more like was it hidden from me so that Micah could be with his ex-girlfriend, his true love?

He once left at our wedding to go to her.

I waited for hours for him to show up, finding out that he was hours late for our wedding due to Rowena being in trouble. She has been a constant black cloud over our marriage.

I'd spent the initial months of our marriage fraught with paranoia that she'd return to steal him away. It was only when she disappeared from our lives that I began to feel secure in our marriage. Three years - that’s how long she had been gone. Three years of having Micah all to myself.

Now, she is back in Alastair - pregnant and being escorted to the hospital by my husband. While I stand here, broken and alone.

"I’m sorry dear; I had a frightful time finding one of the medications," the nurse says as she comes back, bustling around the corner.

As she hands me the medication, I can't help but feel my spirits sink.

It no longer matters if I can bear children; Micah has made his choice. For the second time that day, my heart shatters into a million pieces beyond repair.

He will cast me aside and marry her instead. My time as his wife will soon be over, and I will have to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart and my pride to start a new life.

One far away from Alastair.

But first, I must divorce my husband, and that might be easier said than done.

Fiona’s POV.

I look around the bedroom as I get out of bed, taking in each piece of furniture and all the memories that come up. Most of them are good.

This marriage has been a good one.

It might have begun as a contractual arrangement, spanning three years, but for me, it quickly evolved into something deeper. I once believed the same was true for Micah, until I witnessed him at the hospital with Rowena.

Anyway, our three-year pact is nearly at its end. Now, I can step away, allowing him to be with the love of his life, raising their child together, while I fade into the background.

My phone rings; it's Antonia, my best friend.

"Hey, how are you?" she asks as I pick up, staring vacantly around the room.

"As okay as I can be, I guess. I knew that this marriage always had an expiration date," I reply dully.

"I get it, but I thought with how well you two got along, he might want to extend the contract."

Tears well up as I recall all of our brunches and phone calls, where I raved about my marriage with Micah.

"He only married me to provoke his father, the King. Seems that's all Micah does—anything to infuriate his father. He knew the King wanted him to marry Rowena, so marrying a pauper with a bad bloodline was his way out."

"You don't know anything about your bloodline," Antonia says. I can feel her rolling her eyes through the phone.

"Do you really think a dormant wolf belongs to a good bloodline?" I ask her, agitated.

"That didn't seem to matter to Micah. He never cared that your wolf was dormant and you had no scent."

I rise from the bed and pace the room. "No, he didn't care because it was a marriage with an expiration date. He didn't plan to have babies with me. I was just a tool to provoke his father, and I got the million I needed for my Dad's surgery, so it was a win-win."

Sensing my mood, Antonia changes the topic. "Speaking of your father, how is he doing?" she asks, bringing a smile to my face.

Fenris isn't my biological father. I was an abandoned baby with no knowledge of my origins. It was Fenris who rescued me from a trafficker, a true hero in my life. He used to be a billionaire, but three years ago, he suffered bankruptcy, leaving him in financial ruin.

Coincidentally, it was during this difficult time that he also fell seriously ill and required a million dollars for a life-saving surgery.

It was Micah who stepped in and provided the financial support that ultimately saved my father's life and no matter what was happening right now, I would forever be grateful to him for it.

I am about to answer when I hear the front door open. I quickly update her on my father’s condition and hang up, grateful that she ends the call by letting me know she will always be there for me. It gives me courage to get over with what I need to do.

I head to the living room. Micah stands by the large windows, gazing at the gardens.

I simply watch him for a moment. He's aware of my presence, even without the scent he can identify me due to the perfume I apply daily. He appears content and in a good mood, probably from spending time with Rowena.

"Good evening, wife," he greets without turning around.

Those words stab at my heart. He's used them every evening when we meet, and the knowledge that I'll never hear them again makes me want to retreat to the bedroom and shut myself in.

"Good evening, husband," I reply, though the words come out strained. He approaches, wearing a frown on his face. As he caresses my face, I lean into his touch, realizing it's out of habit, not affection.

He now has his true love back in his life, making me expendable.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," he states.

I open my eyes and notice the slight curve of his lips. How can he be cheerful about this conversation? Is he eager to dispose of me and replace me with Rowena?

"I have something to discuss with you as well," I respond, my gaze locked on the ground. This will be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I don't want to end this marriage or part with this man, but I refuse to share him.

"You go first," he urges, his tone light.

"As you know, our marriage contract expires in a few days," I begin, and his lips curl up a bit more. Micah has never been cruel, and yet here he is, smiling at the prospect of our divorce.

"It does," he acknowledges, leaving the rest of the words unspoken.

I swallow hard and meet his gaze. I won't be timid about this.

"I want the divorce now. There's no need to wait those extra days," I state, my words cold and emotionless. It's the only way I can prevent myself from throwing myself into his arms and begging him to choose me.

The smile fades from his face, and his eyes harden, turning him into a statue.

"If that's what you wish. I hope it's not a decision you'll come to regret," he nods, then walks out of the apartment. I watch him depart, my throat aching as I resist the urge to call him back.

I pull the divorce papers I had prepared out of my bag, staring at them. The stark black and white blurs as tears flow down my cheeks.

I take up the pen and sign my name on the divorce papers before picking up the bag I've packed and making my way to the door.

I glance back at the room, where so much joy was once shared. All I've ever wanted is for him to be happy, and I hope he finds that happiness with Rowena.

With one last wistful look, I exit the place that has been my home for the past three years.

***

Micah’s POV.

"If you can't meet my standards at your job, I'll find someone who can. Are all the people I hired incompetent?" I roar at the back of one of my senior officers as he retreats.

I am the founder of Lycan Incorporated, a company I've built from the ground up. It stands as one of the most successful businesses in all the kingdoms, and it has made me a billionaire in my own right, without the wealth and prestige that come with royal status.

Glancing out into my office, I hear my employees' hushed whispers.

Do they forget their boss is a Lycan with acute hearing?

They mutter speculations about why I'm reprimanding everyone today, none of which come close to the truth.

A knock on my office door draws my attention, and I fix a stern gaze on my assistant, who responds with an impish grin.

"Go away, Colin," I grumble at him, but as usual, he pays no heed and enters, shutting the door behind him.

"Why do you have those flowers?" I growl at him, my eyes flickering with the wolf inside me, attempting to intimidate him.

Colin merely meets my gaze and gestures towards the flowers. "You ordered these and instructed me to bring them to you today."

In his other hand, he holds a file. "This is the list of perfume companies you requested. Take a look and choose the ones you're interested in, and I'll arrange the interviews."

I stare at him for a moment, and he flashes that cheeky grin again. Colin has been my assistant for many years, a confidant I trust with my plans and most of my secrets.

"Give me the file and dispose of those flowers," I instruct, extending my hand for the file, which he hands over.

"That'll be all for now," I tell him, maintaining a neutral tone as I watch him leave with the roses. They were intended to celebrate my third wedding anniversary with Fiona today.

Leaning back in my chair, I run my hands over my face. Opening my desk drawer, I retrieve a contract, an extension of our marriage, one that would last a lifetime.

Fiona was sweet, intelligent and affectionate, embodying everything I desired in a wife.

Until she wasn't.

Until yesterday, when she walked away from my life.

This morning, I woke up to an empty bed and a nightstand bearing signed divorce papers.

I gaze down at the contracted marriage extension papers in my hands. Rage wells up within me, and I long to tear them to shreds.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I cannot bring myself to do it.

I let out a sigh and return the papers to the drawer.