For five years, I let my husband's fated mate take whatever she wanted. My place beside him. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to
belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a broken family had to be better than no family at
all. It wasn't. On the tenth anniversary of the bond my husband and I chose for ourselves, he canceled our ceremony and told me his fated mate would
be taking my place beside him. Then my son gave her the Luna necklace his father had once given me and told me she was his real mate. That was
the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago. No matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be
the woman Adrian chose. So I filed for the dissolution of our bond. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing.
His fated mate thought she had won. My son didn't even look back. Then, three days later, a call came from Moonfall Island: Adrian Blackwood's Luna
was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.
