Seven Years Cold

The silver beads of my grandmother’s necklace lay scattered across the marble floor like frozen tears, crushed under the designer heels of the woman who had stolen my life. I stood in the center of the ballroom, a rejected Omega, listening to my own daughter scream that she wished I wasn’t her mother while my husband—the Alpha I had bled to protect—held his pregnant mistress closer. They called me a liar as they cast me out into the snow, never realizing that by breaking our bond, they had finally shattered the seal on the divine white wolf dormant in my veins. By the time Victor Langford realized the "worthless" wife he discarded was the only thing keeping his empire from the jaws of the Whitlock frost, the goddess had already awakened, and I was no longer looking back.