Piss Off, Alpha! You Chapter 2 I Want A Divorce

Chapter 2: Chapter 2 I Want A Divorce

SOPHIA’S POV

THREE DAYS LATER

I stood before the bathroom sink, staring at three pregnancy tests.

Two lines. Two lines. Two lines.

Each one clearly displayed the sa result.

Pregnant.

I was actually pregnant.

My trembling fingers picked up the first stick, then the second, then the third. I checked them over and over, hoping I was mistaken, but reality offered no escape.

How could this be? I had just resolved to leave, hadn’t even begun to make arrangents, and fate played this cruel joke.

What was I supposed to do?

This child shouldn’t exist. Not now. Not at the very mont I decided to escape.

My hand drifted to my lower abdon. It was still flat, but I knew a new life was quietly taking root. If it was a son, I’d be forced to stay, only to die in so "unfortunate accident" after childbirth, clearing the way for Tiffany to take over.

If it was a daughter, I’d beco a laughingstock once more—the failure who "produced two useless girls in a row."

Either way, this child would be my cage.

"Sophia!"

Helen’s shrill voice cut through the door.

I snapped back to the present, frantically shoving all three tests into my coat pocket. My heart hamred against my ribs, my palms were slick with cold sweat.

Bang!

The door was thrown open violently.

Helen stord in like a hurricane, the head housekeeper and two maids trailing behind her. Her face was alight with impatience, her eyes gleaming with a sick excitent.

"Well?"

Everyone knew this was the ti of the month for the test.

The housekeeper knew. The maids knew. The cook probably knew. Even the pack’s young pups likely knew.

My cycle, my ovulation, my fertile window—these intimate details were public knowledge within the pack. No one had ever considered my privacy. Not even my past self.

I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. "I—"

Before my prepared excuse could leave my lips, she shoved

aside and marched straight to the sink, snatching up the test strip I’d left there. She held it close to her eyes.

The next second—

Smack!

"Nothing again?!" She hurled the stick onto the marble floor, where it shattered into pieces.

"What good are you?!"

I watched her rage in silence.

"Do you think silence is enough? Ten years! A full decade!" Helen’s voice climbed higher, sharper. "What have you brought this family besides one useless girl? Do you know what the pack says about you?"

"No, but I’m sure you’re eager to tell ," I replied calmly.

Helen faltered, clearly taken aback by my response.

"They say you’re barren," she spat venomously. "That you’re a curse. That because of you, Damien’s authority is undermined! He should have rejected you from the start! He should have married Tiffany!"

"Then perhaps they’re right," I said, lifting my head to et her gaze.

The air in the room froze.

"What?" Helen’s voice beca a shriek.

"I said, perhaps they’re right. Perhaps I am a curse," I repeated, each word deliberate. I took two steps forward, my face shadowed. "So, it’s best you don’t provoke . Or you’ll learn the consequences."

The two maids gasped in horror. The housekeeper’s face paled. Helen’s face flushed crimson. She pointed a trembling finger at , speechless with rage.

"You... you..."

Ignoring her stamring, I continued, "And I know you prefer Tiffany. Damien loves her more. I’ll be leaving soon. Let her bear your heir."

"That is your duty! Not hers!" Helen roared. "The Moon Goddess matched you with Damien! It is your obligation to bear his children! You will keep bearing them until you produce a son!"

"The Moon Goddess?" I laughed, the sound dripping with bitterness. "The Moon Goddess commands

to breed but grants

no real marriage? Makes

Luna but denies

basic respect? What kind of deity is that?"

"Silence! How dare you blasphe!"

Crack!

A sharp slap landed across my face.

Pain exploded from my cheek. My head snapped to the side, ears ringing. I could even taste blood in the corner of my mouth.

"You ungrateful wretch!" Helen’s voice shook. "It was my son who gave you the title of Luna! Who gave you status and wealth! And you dare complain!"

Slowly, I turned my head back, running my tongue over the cut on my lip.

Ten years. How many tis had I been struck in these ten years? I’d lost count.

Every single ti, I’d bowed my head, apologized, endured, told myself everything would be fine once I produced an heir. But not this ti. I wouldn’t endure it anymore.

I raised my hand.

This ti, I would fight back.

"Sophia!"

A hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, the grip so tight it hurt.

Damien stood there, having appeared out of nowhere. His Alpha presence instantly dominated the room.

Everyone bowed their heads, holding their breath.

If this were the old , I would have done the sa. But the

now no longer cared.

"Let go of ," I said coldly.

"Have you lost your mind?" Damien stared at , his gaze icy. "Raising a hand against Mother?"

"She hit

first!" I pointed to my swollen cheek. "Are you blind?"

Damien’s eyes flickered over my face, lingering on the vivid handprint for less than a second before moving away.

"You disrespected her first," he stated flatly.

I froze.

That sentence proved it. He had seen Helen strike . And he didn’t care.

"Apologize to Mother," he commanded.

"Why should I?"

"Because she is an elder. The forr Luna," Damien’s tone was one of simple fact. "You will show respect."

"And what about ?" I heard my voice tremble. "I am the current Luna. Who respects ?"

Damien frowned, as if the question were absurd.

"Sophia, don’t be difficult."

He released my wrist. His gaze dropped to the shattered pregnancy test on the floor.

A flicker of disappointnt and disgust passed through his eyes. The look one gives a defective product, a failed investnt. But he said nothing.

He stepped past

toward the housekeeper standing by the door. He took an insulated food carrier from him.

"Is it ready?"

"Yes, Alpha," the housekeeper replied respectfully. "All Miss Tiffany’s favorite French dishes."

So that was it. That was why he’d co back.

Not for the test results. Not even for pack business.

He’d returned to fetch Tiffany’s favorite al.

If Helen didn’t also favor this chef’s cooking, and a replacent couldn’t be found, I had no doubt Damien would have taken our personal chef with him, just so Tiffany could have the finest food every day.

I stood there, watching him carefully cradle the carrier, a trace of softness even touching his lips.

How long had it been since I’d seen that softness?

Five years? Ten?

I couldn’t even rember.

"Damien..." Helen began.

"Mother, I must go. Tiffany is waiting," Damien cut her off, turning to leave.

"Damien," I called out.

He turned back impatiently. "What now?"

"We should sever the bond. I want a divorce."

When I said it, everything felt calr than I’d imagined.

The air in the room solidified.

The housekeeper stood rigid. The two maids gasped into their hands. Helen’s face drained of color.

Damien turned fully, his eyes fixed on . There was no shock in his gaze, only annoyance.

"A new ga? I don’t have ti for this," he said, as if dealing with a minor nuisance. "Tiffany is hungry. She’s waiting for ."

And with that, he actually left.

His footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the sound of the door opening, closing, and a car engine starting.

He was gone.

I asked for a divorce, and he said, "Tiffany is hungry."

Our ten-year marriage weighed less than one of Tiffany’s als.

I stood rooted to the spot, and suddenly, I began to laugh.

The sound echoed in the silent room, bordering on hysterical.

"Have you gone mad?" Helen stared at . "What are you laughing at?"

"I’m laughing at my own stupidity," I said, wiping nonexistent tears from the corner of my eye. "Ten years’ worth of stupidity."

I turned and walked toward the door.

"You stop right there!" Helen shouted after . "I did not dismiss you!"

But I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stand another second in that room. I couldn’t bear to see Helen’s contorted face, or breathe that suffocating air any longer.

I was leaving.

No longer waiting for Damien’s permission. No longer heeding Helen’s commands. No longer bound by pack law.

I would take Ashley. I would take the child in my womb. And I would leave this place forever.

I pushed open the door to the study.

This was where Damien handled pack affairs, typically heavily guarded, but now it stood empty. He’d been in such a hurry to reach Tiffany that he hadn’t even locked it.

I walked straight to his desk and pulled open a drawer.

Our marriage certificate, asset portfolios, pack accounting ledgers—all ticulously filed and organized. Damien was always thorough, precise.

I took out the docunts I needed and spread them on the desk. Then I turned on the computer and began drafting the divorce petition.

Assets. Custody. Terms.

I listed them one by one, each clause born from a decade of humiliation and quiet fury.

Finally, at the end, I added one more line:

【This agreent shall take effect imdiately upon signing. No revocation permitted.】

With the final word typed, I took a deep breath and hit print.

The printer humd softly, spitting out page after page. I gathered them, collated the docunts, and slid them into a folder.

Now, I needed to find Ashley.

My daughter. The daughter I hadn’t seen for so long.

It had been three months since Damien moved her to his private residence. He said the environnt there was better for nurturing a future Alpha female, that my quarters were too oppressive, that I would hinder her growth.But I knew the real reason. He wanted to keep Ashley away from . To give Tiffany more chances to get close, to replace

in my daughter’s heart.

I tucked the folder under my arm, stood up, and took one last look around the room.

This room I was never permitted to enter. This room that symbolized Damien’s power and status. This room that once filled

with awe.

Now, I only felt the urgent need to leave.

I was going to see my daughter. To tell her we were leaving.

We were starting a new life.