One

I gazed down below from the second floor of the Campbell mansion and my eyes landed on my husband, dancing with his lover and steering her towards the center of the room.

My husband's family had gathered to celebrate his grandmother's 90th birthday, a huge occasion in the country. The Campbell family was a powerful one. They'd built the nation's largest megacorp, with investments in everything from food services to real estate, tech, healthcare, and media.

Yet, Byron shamelessly invited his lover, Kiara, to the event.

He leaned in closer to her and as his lips brushed against her ear, she let out a high-pitched giggle that cut through the music.

She was acting like a teenager, and Byron's face lit up with a happiness that I had never seen in his eyes. With me, he was always frowning. A stranger would think Byron and Kiara were newlyweds on their honeymoon and lost in their own world.

My normal reaction should be rage. I should storm downstairs and demand a divorce, or at least cause a scene. Instead, I found myself staring at my husband's lover's perfectly sculpted butt that looked wider than a mountain road.

Her beauty was the loud, attention-grabbing kind, impossible to ignore, and she was everything that Byron desired—an elegant, billionaire's daughter who matched the Campbell reputation far better than I ever could. I was just an ordinary driver's daughter.

How could my husband not be obsessed with her? She was perfect.

I refused to look away. Byron’s hand was firmly planted on her hip, and his fingers dug into her flesh as he laughed at something she whispered in his ear. I remained upstairs, out of sight, hoping to make things less awkward for everyone.

No one would notice my absence anyway. I was just an accessory to Byron’s life, something to be shown off when it suited him and discarded when it didn't.

Laughter floated from the hall. The air conditioning was blasting at full force, yet I felt an uncomfortable heat creeping up my neck.

I tried to steady myself, smoothing out my dress as if it would somehow make me feel better. My hand drifted to my waist. There was nothing to hold onto, no curve or shape to compete with Kiara's. I wondered, not for the first time, if surgery for a bigger butt could make me into the woman Byron wanted. Maybe then I could save my marriage.

But I knew better.

It wasn't about having a big butt. Byron despised me and everyone knew. I was nothing more than the mother of his child. If it weren't for our son, Valen, he would have divorced me long ago.

I could feel the pity in some guests' eyes. Others looked at me with disgust, silently accusing me of being a gold digger for clinging to a man who clearly didn’t want me.

The click of heels approaching behind me distracted me from my thoughts. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. My mother-in-law, Meredith, walked past me with a smirk on her face. Her eyes were cold and lifeless, like a big snake sizing up its prey. She didn't bother to hide her hatred for me.

“Only desperate whores wear such brightly colored lipstick. Your pathetic attempts to make my son love you are failing miserably.”

I didn’t respond, instead my grip on the railing tightened. Meredith had always made it clear that I was beneath her, unworthy of the Campbell name. She stood beside me and fixed her gaze on her son and his lover, who were now wrapped in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“They look good together, don’t you think? Kiara is a beautiful woman; she’d make a much better daughter-in-law. If you hadn’t wormed your way into my family with your dirty lies…”

I tuned her out. I had grown numb to Meredith’s constant attacks. She was always the same, repeating her insults like a broken record.

From the moment Byron had denied our one-night stand five years ago, she had taken his side, refusing to believe that her precious son could do anything wrong. But the proof was in our son, Valen, who was a spitting image of his father.

Byron’s love for our son was genuine. I knew that if I ever asked for a divorce, my husband would use our son against me.

He would fight for custody, claiming that he was the better parent and the primary provider. But I was determined to protect Valen. I would fight with everything I had to keep him with me, even if it meant enduring he'll in a loveless marriage.

He'd chosen to marry me, but he was never truly invested in our relationship. I was left constantly trying to prove that I was worthy of his love, though deep down I knew it was a lost cause.

In the first two years of our marriage, I lived in denial, convincing myself that Byron—the same man who got me drunk the night we met, slept with me, and then denied knowing me the next day—would eventually love me.

I clung to the hope that things would get better. But I had long since given up on winning his love. Now, all I wanted was for him to show me a little respect.

“It’s time to cut the cake,” my father-in-law’s voice boomed through the room, snapping me out of my thoughts. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat as I made my way downstairs. The last thing I wanted was to be a part of this celebration, but I had no choice.I kept my distance from Byron and Kiara.

My mom had always said that marrying into the Campbell family was my destiny, a chance to shine bright. But it was ironic, really, because Byron had stopped me from growing my fashion house after our son was born and made me a stay-at-home wife.

I was lost in my thoughts when Byron’s aunt, a bitter woman with a sharp tongue, shoved past me. She was Grandma Alice’s only daughter, and she acted like she was better than everyone else, though we all knew the truth—she had driven her own daughter to suicide after sleeping with her fiancé. Yet she continued to walk around with her head held high like a saint.

The cake was huge, with nine layers, each more elaborate than the last. Byron and Kiara remained lost in their own little bubble, clinking their wine glasses together in a toast and sharing a sip that was too intimate for comfort.

Then, a sudden commotion broke out behind me, drawing my attention. I turned to see what was happening, and my breath caught in my throat.

A man had entered the room, and all eyes were on him. He was tall, with dark hair that framed a chiseled face. He moved with a confidence that Byron could never muster, commanding the attention of everyone around him.

But it wasn’t just his presence that shocked me—it was the fact that he looked exactly like Byron.

Who was this stranger, and why had I never heard of him before?

I stood there, trying to process what I was seeing, and my dormant wolf inside me stirred and became mad with desire.

It was a feeling I had never experienced before—a powerful force that seemed to pull me towards this man. I felt a strange bond, as if my soul was connected to this stranger.

An intoxicating scent filled the air—and I found myself struggling to breathe. I took a step back, placing a hand on my stomach as if to steady myself.

My spine stiffened as I fought to reject the impossible truth that was dawning on me.

This stranger, this man who was the spitting image of my husband, was my mate.