Her mouth tightens before she forces the confession out. “You have to understand, I thought I was doing the right thing. An Alpha provides. An Alpha protects. It’s what we’re taught from birth, what society expects. And Auren neededso much.”
Her fingers tighten in Mixie’s fur, and the cat shifts, readjusting her position. Emily loosens her grip, murmuring an apology.
“He said he was better with money, so my paychecks went into our joint account, which he managed.” She swallows hard. “I didn’t realize he’d opened a separate account for himself until after… after everything ended.”
My stomach clenches at the revelation, acidrising in my throat. I want to speak, to curse this man who stole from her, but I force myself to remain silent, letting her words flow.
“The house was in his name because his credit was better. The truck, too.” Her laugh holds no humor, the sound brittle. “Found out later he’d been skimming from the construction company by using his position to redirect funds. His credit wasn’t better; he just had more cash to put down.”
Emily shifts in her seat, her spine stiffening as she continues. “Six years we were together. Six years of working twelve-hour days, coming home to cook dinner for whatever Alphas he’d invited over without telling me.”
Her jaw tightens, and Mixie pushes her head against Emily’s wrist, sensing her distress. “Sometimes, they’d stay a couple of days. Sometimes they’d never leave.”
“Other Alphas?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Her focus remains fixed on the table. “Yes. Always Alphas. Always ones who could give him what I couldn’t. Connections. Status. Gifts.” Something in her shuts down as she adds, “When I questioned it, he’d say I was neglecting him. I worked too much. If I were home more, he wouldn’t need others.”
The injustice of it boils in my veins, but I keepmy face neutral, not wanting my anger to silence her.
“The worst part is, I believed him.” Emily’s thumb rubs over Mixie’s head, finding the spot between her ears, and the cat’s eyes close in contentment. “I cut my hours. Turned down promotions. Tried to be home more. And still, it was never enough. If I worked less, we argued about money. He wasn’t working at all by then, so everything fell on me. It was a situation I could never win.”
“When did it end?” I ask, careful not to lean forward or crowd her when all I want to do is pull her into my arms.
“Eight months ago.” Her fingers trace Mixie’s simple blue collar, making the silver bell chime with each movement. “I came home early from a job site, thinking I’d surprise him. Instead, I found him with two of the other Alphas who had been hanging around more, discussing how they needed a bigger house. And how I wouldn’t be moving with them.”
My heart twists for her, imagining the betrayal of that moment.
“They’d taken a vote, he said. The pack had decided I was ‘destabilizing the dynamic.’ That my ‘possessiveness where Auren was concerned’ wasmaking everyone uncomfortable.” Her throat works, the old pain resurfacing. “He’d already packed his things.”
Emily’s shoulders hunch forward, as if trying to become smaller, and Mixie nuzzles Emily’s chin in comfort.
“How did he end up with Mixie?” I ask, watching the cat who now sits in Emily’s lap.
“Auren said I wasn’t home often enough to care for him, so how could he trust me to care for a cat. That she’d be traumatized if she spent too much time alone while I worked, the way he claimed to be when he was left behind.” Her throat works. “I think that hurt the most. More than the money, more than the house. He took my cat.”
Mixie purrs louder, as if understanding she’s the subject of conversation, her tail curling around Emily’s wrist.
“What about your house?”
“I fought for the house in court. Had to buy him out of his half, though he’d never contributed a dime to the mortgage.” Her fingers tremble as they stroke Mixie’s fur. “The lawyer’s fees almost bankrupted me. I had to start over. New job. New furniture. Everything.”
The clock on the wall ticks, marking the passage of time as Emily unburdens herself ofyears of pain. I look around at the kitchen with its warm woods and handcrafted touches, recognizing it now as the fortress she built to protect herself from the memory of what was taken from her.
“He made me believe that giving everything was love.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “And now…” She pauses, chest rising with a shaky breath. “Now I look at you, hurt, displaced, still finding your footing, and I’m terrified I’ll do to you what he did to me. Taking advantage of someone vulnerable.”
Her hand stills on Mixie’s back, her gaze dropping again to the table in shame.
“I kissed you. I wanted you. And I didn’t stop to think what that meant for you, staying in my house, dependent on my goodwill.” Her fingers curl into a fist on the table. “I became the predator I was so afraid of.”
I set my mug down on the wooden table. “You’re not him.”
Emily shakes her head, silver strands falling across her forehead. “Maybe not. But what if I’m just the Alpha version of it? You needed help, and I?—”
“I was vulnerable,” I acknowledge, watching the tension in her shoulders increase. “Kicked outof my hotel, and my employment jeopardized. But, Emily, that’s not why I’m here now.”
Her jaw clenches, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “Isn’t it?”
The challenge in her question stings, but I recognize the fear beneath it. She needs to hear the truth, not comfortable platitudes.