chapter 154
Fiona's POV:
The memory flooded back with crystalline clarity.
The wedding night. Ethan had been so drunk, barely conscious.
I'd tried to rouse him, tried to make him consummate our marriage, but he'd pushed me away.
And yet, the next morning, my body had ached. There were marks on my skin—bruises on my hips, scratches on my back. Physical evidence that something had happened.
Ethan had woken late, groggy and disoriented.
When I'd asked him about the night before, he'd smiled that lazy smile and brushed his thumb across my nose. "You can't hold your liquor, can you? You were completely out of it."
I'd laughed it off, relieved that he seemed to remember us being together. But now...
Oh God.
Every time after that, it had been the same pattern. Ethan would drink heavily before coming to bed. I'd wake up with vague, fragmented memories and a body that told me we'd been intimate.
But I never remembered the details. Never remembered his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice.
Because it hadn't been Ethan at all.
"It was you." I turned to face Ethan, my voice barely audible. "You planned this from the beginning, didn't you? This is your revenge. For Tori."
Ethan's expression remained cold, impassive. "Fiona, this is karma. This is what happens when you do terrible things."
He didn't confirm it. Didn't deny it either. And that silence was answer enough.
"It really was you!" Even though I'd suspected, having the truth confirmed felt like being gutted. "From that day in the bar when you asked me to date you—you were setting me up the whole time, weren't you?"
My voice rose, shrill with hysteria. "How touching, Ethan! You sacrificed your own marriage to get revenge for Tori. How noble! How heroic!"
I laughed, the sound brittle and broken. "But here's the thing—you went through all this trouble, destroyed both our lives, and for what? She doesn't love you anymore. She's never coming back to you."
I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And when she marries Lucas, you'll have to call her 'Aunt.' You'll have to bow your head and show her respect as your elder. Won't that be delicious?"
I saw him flinch, saw the flash of pain in his eyes, and it gave me savage satisfaction.
"You're just as pathetic as I am. I'll enjoy watching you suffer in your own private hell, never getting what you want. "
"None of that matters anymore." Ethan's voice was flat, emotionless. "What matters is that I helped her get justice. That I made you pay for what you did to her."
He met my eyes, and there was something almost peaceful in his expression.
Something inside me snapped.
"What does she have that I don't?" My voice rose to a shriek, all pretense of dignity abandoned. "Tell me! What makes her so special? I'm prettier, I'm from a better family, I gave you everything—"
I grabbed his shirt, shaking him. "I loved you! I would have done anything for you! But it was never enough, was it? Because I wasn't her!"
Tears streamed down my face, hot and bitter. "You threw away everything for someone who doesn't even want you. It's not worth it. She's not worth destroying yourself over."
I released him with a violent shove, my laughter edged with hysteria.
"You will never be loved, Ethan Grayson. Not by her. Not by anyone. You'll die alone and empty, and it will be exactly what you deserve."
---
Several days later, news of Ethan and my divorce spread through Moonhaven's elite circles like wildfire.
Our mating ceremony had been the social event of the season—now our divorce was equally spectacular, but for all the wrong reasons.
I remembered the magazine spread from our engagement. "Moonhaven's Most Fortunate Woman," the headline had read, featuring that photo of me tossing my hair back as I sat in Ethan's limited-edition sports car.
Now the headlines read differently: "From Grace to Disgrace: The Fall of Fiona Price." "Desperate Gambit of a Vicious Woman Exposed"
Less than two years. That's all it took for everything to crumble. I couldn't help but feel the bitter irony of it all.
But fate wasn't finished with me yet.
Zane came to the Price mansion, and Alexander agreed to the marriage without consulting me. "The child needs a father," he said coldly. "You have no other choice."
The thought of binding myself to the man who had destroyed everything—I couldn't bear it.
When Zane came to persuade me, something inside me snapped.
"Get out."
"Your father already gave us his blessing. We can—"
"I said get out!" I hurled a crystal vase at him. It shattered against the doorframe, missing his head by inches.
He didn't leave. Just kept talking, kept pushing, kept insisting that we belonged together. That this was fate. That our son deserved a father.
Every word was a knife twisting in my gut. This man—this nobody—had destroyed everything I'd worked for. Had stolen my future, my status, my dignity.
And now he wanted to marry me? To trap me in a life of mediocrity?
"I'll never marry you." My voice was deadly calm. "I'll never let you near my son. You're nothing, Zane. You've always been nothing."
His expression hardened. "I'm the baby's father, Fiona. The DNA test proves it. You can't keep me away."
I snapped.
The knife was in my hand before I consciously decided to pick it up.
I lunged. The blade caught him in the shoulder, then the arm as he tried to defend himself. Blood bloomed across his shirt, bright and red and satisfying.
"You ruined my life!" I screamed, striking again. "You took everything from me!"
Mia's screams brought security running. They pulled me off him, but not before I'd gotten in several more cuts.
Unfortunately, none of the wounds was fatal. But it didn't matter.
The Council's judgment was swift: multiple offenses, exile, effective immediately.
Before they took me away, they allowed me one final phone call.
My fingers trembled as I dialed the number I'd memorized years ago. The number I'd called countless times when we were friends, before everything fell apart.
She answered on the third ring.
"Tori." My voice was hoarse from screaming. "I suppose you're happy now. You won. Completely and utterly."
Silence on the other end.
"What a grand love story," I continued, my laugh brittle. "Ethan sacrificed his entire marriage just to get revenge for you. How romantic. How epic."
My grip tightened on the phone. "If I could go back, if I could change one thing... I wish I'd never met you."
"Fiona." Tori's voice was quiet, steady. "Everything that happened to you—you brought it on yourself. Every choice, every lie, every betrayal. This is the consequence of your own actions."
The line went dead.
I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, as the guards approached to escort me to the city limits.
No future. No redemption. No second chances.
Exile meant becoming a Rogue—stripped of pack protection, hunted by other wolves, surviving on scraps in the wilderness.
A slow death, drawn out over months or years of suffering.