Verda Champlin Facebook ad: “He stole her royal heirloom moonstone necklace… to give it…”

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The drive back to the Pack House was a blur of suppressed rage, but the moment I stepped into the master bedroom, the cold reality of my situation sharpened into focus. I didn't scream. I didn't collapse. Instead, I walked straight to the walk-in closet, my heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor like the ticking of a countdown clock. I pushed aside the rows of designer gowns Charles insisted I wear to maintain our image and knelt before the hidden wall safe. My fingers trembled slightly as I punched in the code—my birthday, a date he usually forgot unless it served a public relations purpose. The lock disengaged with a heavy *thunk*, and the steel door swung open. My breath hitched in my throat. It wasn't just the moonstone pendant. The velvet display trays were ravaged. My grandmother’s sapphire tiara, worn only for high ceremonies, was gone. The diamond drop earrings my father, the Lycan King, had given me upon my high school graduation were missing. Even the antique silver brooches passed down through the Silver Lake lineage—pieces that technically belonged to the pack, not just me—had vanished. Empty. Just like he claimed I was. He hadn’t just betrayed our marriage bed; he had looted my heritage. He was stripping the Lycan royalty off my body to dress up his cheap little doll. A dark, cold fury settled in my chest, freezing over the heartbreak that had threatened to drown me earlier. This was no longer just about infidelity. This was treason against the Lycan crown. I slammed the safe shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. I couldn't confront him yet. Not without undeniable proof. If I accused him of theft now, he’d claim I lost them, or worse, that I was mentally unstable. I needed to be smarter. I needed to be my father's daughter. I left the bedroom, needing to clear my head, but the atmosphere in the Pack House had shifted. The air was thick with the static hum of an active mind-link. The pack was talking, and the silence that fell whenever I entered a room was deafening. I walked toward the laundry room to check on my linens, but paused just outside the door when I heard hushed voices. "...saw the video myself before she deleted it," a young Omega maid was whispering. "She’s definitely showing. Just a little bump, but it’s there." "Finally," another voice replied, sounding relieved. "Alpha Charles deserves an heir. It’s sad about Luna Emilia, but... well, a Lycan daughter who can't breed is useless, isn't she? The pack is weak without a successor." "I heard Jordyn is already picking out nursery colors. She says the Alpha promised her the Luna ceremony by the next full moon." I pressed my back against the cold wall, closing my eyes. *Useless.* That was the word that haunted me. For years, Charles had paraded me around as a trophy, only to whisper that word in the dark when my monthly cycle arrived. He had convinced the entire pack that my "weak wolf" was the reason for our empty nursery. The cruelty of it almost made me gasp. He was letting them believe I was broken while he played house with a woman faking a pregnancy he couldn't possibly create. Read now to see how she takes revenge! The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long, pale shadows across the bedroom floor. I lay still, feigning sleep, listening to the sounds of Charles getting ready. The rustle of his tactical gear, the zip of his boots—it was a performance of duty. "Emilia," he said, his voice rough as he leaned over the bed. I opened my eyes, blinking slowly, forcing my expression into a mask of submissive fatigue. "I have to head out. Border patrol. There have been reports of rogue activity near the northern ridge. Don't wait up." "Be safe, Alpha," I whispered, the title tasting like ash in my mouth. He didn't kiss me. He just patted my shoulder—a dismissive, patronizing touch—and strode out of the room. I waited until I heard the heavy thud of the front door and the roar of his SUV fading down the driveway before I threw off the covers. My heart was pounding, not with fear, but with a cold, focused adrenaline. Charles thought I was just the pampered daughter of the Lycan King, a woman who cared more about tea parties than technology. He forgot who raised me. I grabbed my phone and opened the family tracking app. We had installed it years ago for safety, a standard protocol for high-ranking pack members. He probably thought I didn't know how to bypass the basic filters, or perhaps his arrogance simply led him to believe I wouldn't dare check up on him. The little blue dot representing his SUV moved steadily away from the Pack House. I watched, breath held, as it approached the turnoff for the northern ridge—and drove right past it. "Liar," I hissed. The dot continued south, crossing the invisible boundary line of our territory and entering the neutral zone. It finally came to a stop at "The Midnight Moon," a secluded café popular for illicit meetings because pack jurisdiction didn't apply there. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I went to my closet, bypassing my silk dresses and designer coats. I pulled out a nondescript gray hoodie and a pair of worn jeans I used for gardening. I tied my hair back and grabbed the keys to the gardener’s old sedan, a vehicle so invisible no one would look twice at it. The drive was a blur of gray highway and white-hot rage. When I pulled into the gravel lot of The Midnight Moon, I parked three rows back, slumped low in the seat. I pulled the hood up, masking my face and dampenin Read now to see how she takes revenge! #BetrayalStory #StrongFemaleLead #Revenge #HeartWrenchingRomance #WomenFiction #LifeAfterBetrayal #MustReadStory

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h5-fb-usa-xz-604.rocnovel.com

He stole her royal heirloom moonstone necklace… to give it to the woman filming herself as the future Luna.