son

rowl, laced with the full force of my Alpha au

her sob, to hear th

nd clear as ice water. "Bryson, I think you're

esigned? Moved out? They sounded fore

he phone, my wolf clawing at the inside of my skin.

ce, no anger, no tears. Just a flat, dead calm that was more unsettling than any scream

true. I had no answer for that. Fo

about the contract? The errors? Is that how you do your job?" I tried to put her on t

sion of that contract was emailed to Sharon yesterday afternoon. I have the timestamped reco

xt words were delivere

y. I'm not your su

my wealth-all the things that defined me-were utterly us

nd you to come back here and make dinner. Who's going to manage the house if you're

d. I thought, for a moment, that I ha

r voice a flat, dead calm. It was a slap in the face. A direct, cold, public humiliation, even if only the

ng pain, a backlash from my own shock and fury. It w

, my control snapping. "

dn't a

hanging up," she said, her v

mmand boomed, an instinctual, de

flat, repetitive beep

hung

had

up on h

test. The veins on the back of my hand stood out like ropes. My ice-b

bedroom. The silence was no long

life, I felt a cold, unfamili

ni

thing was terribly, irrev