I caught his scent before I saw them, my husband's scent, saturating another woman's skin. Three years. I gave Alexander three years, my father's territory, my people's loyalty, and a slow poison quietly destroying my body from the inside. I made him — pulled a fallen, abandoned Alpha from the dirt, merged our packs, convinced every dissenting elder, and stepped aside so he could wear the crown I built. I called it love. He called it convenient. The night I walked into that ballroom uninvited, his mistress was already on his arm. By the end of the night, she was on her knees — telling the entire pack she was carrying his heir. That was the moment I understood: I was never his wife. I was his ladder. I walked out without trembling. And I started planning. There was only one move left — to go to the man I had once rejected. The most powerful Alpha in the word. The one who never forgot.