Chapter 5: Perfume, Lies, and Goodbyes

One day, I heard the sound of light footsteps at the door.

Quick, almost cheerful. I forced myself upright, bracing for whatever came next.

"Babe, I’m back! Sorry, I’ve been so busy the past few days I only just got the chance to see you!"

She breezed in, all sunshine and smiles, like nothing had happened. Her voice was syrupy. Her eyes too bright.

She bounced over like a little bunny, wrapping her arms around my neck like everything was fine.

I stiffened, but she didn’t notice. Her perfume was overwhelming—different, expensive, not the lavender I remembered.

"I missed you so much! So, what gifts did you bring me this time from the woods?"

Her words were playful, teasing. I felt sick, remembering the roses—now just a soggy mess in the trash.

The unfamiliar perfume stung my nose.

It was sharp, floral, nothing like the girl I married. Another man’s scent, clinging to her skin.

"Didn’t you already ruin the roses I brought you?"

My voice was flat, hollow. I didn’t want to fight, but I couldn’t fake it anymore.

I lowered my eyes. Inside that bouquet, I’d hidden a gold ring I’d made myself.

I’d spent hours shaping it, polishing it until it gleamed. I wanted to surprise her, remind her of our promises. Now, it was just trash on the floor.

When I approached her, her face turned cold. Without hesitation, she slapped the flowers from my hands—along with the ring, bracelet, and gold necklace, all crashing to the floor.

The sound was sharp, final. She didn’t even look back as the pieces scattered. Something in me snapped.

"You think cheap flea-market junk is worth showing off to me?"

Her voice was scornful, dripping with contempt. I stared at her, barely recognizing the woman in front of me. My heart thudded, slow and heavy.

"This isn’t even enough to tip our bodyguards!"

She laughed, tossing her hair. The words stung. I refused to let her see me flinch.

"Derek! Stop using being a werewolf as an excuse to control me!"

She repeated it, louder. Was she trying to convince me—or herself?

"I’ve found my real family now. I won’t let you lock me in the basement, making me act like some animal ever again!"

The words echoed, ugly and raw. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but what was the point?

At that, Savannah looked a little embarrassed.

She glanced away, biting her lip. For a moment, I saw the girl I used to love. Then the mask slipped back into place.

She awkwardly rubbed her nose.

It was a nervous habit I’d always found cute. Now, it just made me tired.

"Babe, I’m just planning for our future! Now that I’m the Langley heiress, we don’t have to live in the woods anymore!"

She sounded proud, almost giddy. Did she even remember the nights we spent dreaming about a simple life together?

She rubbed her cheek against mine, but I pushed her away, disgusted.

Her skin was cold, her touch strange. I felt nothing but revulsion.

Dragging her to the study door, I demanded an explanation.

I needed answers. Needed to know if anything was ever real.

Her face went pale for three seconds. She stared at the wall full of private photos, eyes reddening.

She stared at the pictures, hands trembling. For a second, I thought she might actually tell the truth.

"Babe, don’t overthink it. I only realized I was frigid after coming to Maple Heights for college…"

Her voice was small, shaky. I didn’t believe a word.

Her eyes darted everywhere, never meeting mine. Her manicured fingers twisted the hem of her dress.

She looked like a cornered animal, desperate to escape. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"Ethan is my therapist. These are all part of his desensitization treatment!"

The lie was so weak, I almost laughed. She’d always been a terrible liar. Now, she didn’t even try.

"And about the wedding banquet with him—that was all just acting for our parents!"

She twisted the story, painting herself as the victim. I’d heard it all before.

"I love you the most. Please don’t be mad, okay?"

Her voice was syrupy sweet, pleading. I felt nothing but emptiness.

Watching her spout excuses, the wall I’d built around my heart finally crumbled.

Every brick, every promise—gone. I was done. Finally done.

I never knew she could lie so smoothly, even with all the evidence right there.

How many times had I swallowed her lies? How many more was she hiding?

She tried to change the subject, reaching to unbutton my shirt, teasing and provoking me. But I was so battered I couldn’t feel a thing.

Her hands were cold, insistent. I pushed her away, my skin crawling.

I threw her hand off. Meeting her stunned, panicked eyes, I said, "Savannah, let’s get a divorce."

The words dropped like a bomb. She stared at me like I’d slapped her.

She froze, staring at me in disbelief.

Her mouth opened, then closed. For once, she had nothing to say. I almost smiled.

"Babe, don’t throw a tantrum! I’m only doing this so we can be together!"

She tried to backtrack, her voice rising. I shook my head. Not this time.

"Did you forget how, the first time you were drugged, you hurt me so bad I couldn’t get out of bed for half a month?"

Her words were meant to hurt. I flinched, the memory flooding back.

I fell silent.

The guilt was still there, heavy as ever. But I refused to let her use it against me.

That first night, in a haze, everything happened so fast. The next morning, she was sobbing beside me, covered in bruises. I slapped myself twice, ready to be arrested.

I’d been terrified, sure I’d ruined everything. I wanted to turn myself in, pay for what I’d done.

But she hadn’t blamed me. Instead, she went with me to go to the courthouse and make it official.

She insisted it was fate, that we were meant to be. I wanted to believe her.

I never imagined that what I thought we’d fixed would become her excuse for cheating—a badge she wore with pride.

The realization made me sick. She’d twisted my remorse into a weapon, used it to justify her own betrayal.

I looked down.

Couldn’t meet her eyes. I was ashamed—not just of what I’d done, but of what I’d let myself become.

"Either way, you have another man now. We should divorce."

I answered, voice steady even as my hands shook. I was done begging for scraps of affection.

She tried to argue, but just then, her phone rang.

The sound was shrill, insistent. She glanced at the screen, her face lighting up.

"Babe, come quick! My crazy ex is pestering me again, and I can’t get away!"

I recognized Ethan’s voice. She didn’t even try to hide it.

She didn’t hesitate, just tossed out a perfunctory reminder:

She grabbed her purse, already halfway out the door. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

"Let’s not talk about divorce now. Ethan needs me for the act. I’ll go help him first!"

Her priorities were clear. I wasn’t even second place anymore.

"Oh, and babe, my friend has surgery this week. You need to donate more plasma. I’ll take you to the hospital when I get back!"

The words stung. I was nothing but a resource—something to use and toss aside. My stomach clenched.

Half a year ago, she called, saying her friend was dying and desperately needed rare wolf-blood.

I rushed over, desperate to help. I never questioned her story—I never did.

She dragged me to the blood center and had them draw almost two pints from me.

I remembered the cold needle, the dizziness. She held my hand, whispering I was saving a life. I wanted to believe her.

I protested her constant blood requests, but she just cried and begged:

Her tears always worked. I was weak, too soft-hearted to say no.

"Babe, please help me. My friend will die without this blood! You both have rare wolf-blood—please save him! It’s a good deed. You can’t just watch him die!"

She made it sound noble, like I was some kind of hero. I wanted to believe it. Needed to.

I half-believed her. Dizzy from the donation, I barely made it back to the lodge.

The world spun. My vision blurred. I collapsed on the bed, too weak to move.

It rained the whole way, and the roses I’d cared for were shredded by the storm.

I watched them wilt on the windowsill, petals curling in on themselves. It felt like an omen.

Didn’t she know? After six months of constant blood draws, my health was failing. The doctor warned me not to donate anymore. Every time, I’d be bedridden for half a month.

I tried to explain, tried to set boundaries. She just smiled, promised it would be the last time. It never was.

I used to love her so much I’d give my blood to save a life. Now, seeing her reckless, decadent life, I didn’t want to hear a word from her.

Love had turned to resentment, affection to disgust. I was done sacrificing myself for someone who didn’t care.