Rejected By My Mate, Reborn As The Alpha Commander

Citlali POV：

Martha stood blocking the corridor like a vulture waiting for a wounded deer to stop breathing. Her plum-colored velvet gown reeked of expensive musk—perfume bought with gold she had siphoned directly from my estate's accounts.

"Citlali, darling, wait," Martha crooned, her voice slathered in fake sympathy. She reached out with manicured claws to touch my cheek, but I subtly tilted my head back, leaving her hand hovering in the cold air.

A flicker of venom flashed in Martha's eyes before she rearranged her face into a mask of mournful piety. Several castle servants and lingering guests slowed their pace at the corridor entrance, watching the unfolding scene with hungry curiosity.

"You must not blame Dolphus," Martha sighed loudly, ensuring her words carried down the gallery. "He carries the burden of the Patterson pack's future. A warrior of his standing requires a Luna who can shift, run the borders, and breed strong Alpha blood. You must understand... for the sake of both our houses, you must formally declare that you released him willingly."

I clutched Bessie’s arm, my knuckles white, playing the part of the cornered, helpless invalid. "Release him willingly? He shattered our ancestral oath before the council, and you ask me to bless his betrayal?"

"Mind your tongue, child," Elder Vance barked from behind Martha, his grey beard bristling with aristocratic disdain. "The Ortega name has suffered enough shame today from your lack of a wolf. Do not make this pack a laughingstock by acting like a bitter shrew. Sign the release, or the council will declare you unfit to hold your mother's inheritance."

They didn't just want the betrothal broken; they wanted legal absolution so they wouldn't have to return the dowry advances and massive loans.

I took a shaky breath, preparing to feign a coughing fit, when Martha suddenly gathered her heavy skirts, dropped to her knees, and slammed her forehead against the icy stone floor right in front of me.

The servants gasped. The corridor erupted into hushed exclamations of shock.

"I beg of you, Citlali!" Martha wailed, tears streaming down her powdered cheeks in an Oscar-worthy performance of maternal desperation. "Spare my son! Do not hold a grudge against an ambitious boy! If someone must pay for his broken heart, take my life, but do not drag our family's honor through the mud!"

What a vile, brilliant snake, I thought.

By kneeling to a "wolfless junior," she instantly flipped the narrative. To every bystander, I was no longer the betrayed victim—I was a petty, cold-hearted tyrant forcing a grieving mother to grovel.

"Have you no shame, Citlali?!" Elder Vance bellowed, stepping forward with his Alpha aura flaring in reprimand. "Making an elder kneel to you over a severed courtship? Apologize to Lady Martha at once and surrender the contract!"

The pressure in the corridor rose, suffocating and hostile. If I refused, I would be branded an unfilial monster, ostracized by pack law before I could execute my retaliation.

I didn't argue. I didn't yell.

I simply let my breath hitch, fluttered my eyelids, and released all tension in my limbs.

"Miss Citlali!" Bessie screamed as I collapsed backward like a marionette with severed strings.

Bessie threw herself down, breaking my fall as my head thudded softly against her padded wool shawl. I kept my breathing shallow, my pulse thinned through deliberate mental discipline, rendering my skin deathly pale and cold to the touch.

"She’s fainted! The strain... her weak heart!" Bessie wept hysterically, shaking my shoulders. "You pushed her to the brink! If my lady dies, the Alpha King's magistrates will hear of how you murdered an orphan heiress in her own halls!"

The smug triumph on Martha’s face vanished, replaced by sheer panic. Elder Vance froze, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Forcing an invalid into a life-threatening faint was a crime that even corrupt clan elders couldn't sweep under the rug.

"What is happening here?!" a furious roar tore through the hall.

Issac charged down the corridor like an enraged bull, violently shoving Elder Vance into the wall. He glared down at Martha with feral disgust. "You sickening leeches! You humiliate her, and then you try to kill her in the hallway?!"

"Lord Issac, this is a private pack matter—" Vance stammered.

"Get out of my way before I paint this stone with your entrails!" Issac snarled, baring his fangs as his Alpha dominance slammed down on them like a lead hammer.

Martha scrambled backward on all fours, trembling under Issac's terrifying aura.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Bessie, with the help of two loyal estate guards, lifted my limp body and rushed me down the private wing to my personal bedchamber.

The moment the heavy oak doors slammed shut and the iron bolt clicked into place, I opened my eyes.

The fragility vanished. The pale weakness evaporated into an aura of arctic frost.

I sat up on the four-poster bed, ripped off the suffocating lace collar around my throat, and walked steadily toward the mahogany desk in the corner. Pulling a concealed silver lever beneath the drawer, a false bottom popped open.

Inside lay a thick, leather-bound ledger stamped with the crest of the Gilded Vault.

I ran a finger over the crisp ink pages, detailing thirty thousand gold coins borrowed under Martha and Dolphus’s signatures over five years.

"Bessie," I said, my voice smooth, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. "Fetch Nellie. It’s time the Patterson family learned what happens when you default on a debt to the real master of this city."