Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother Chapter 311: Just A Wife

I flinched like Axel had slapped .

Just. My. Wife.

His words hit harder than anything Álvaro could’ve thrown at across a dinner table. I stared at him, feeling my heartbeat drop into my stomach like a stone. "Since when have I beco just your wife? Was it that easy to demote ? To file away like so political alliance?"

Axel’s jaw tightened. "You’re being dramatic."

"No." I walked toward him now, and the pain made my voice tremble even as I fought to keep it even. "I’m being a woman whose husband used to worship the ground she walked on. Who once said I made him feel alive. Who used to kiss like he needed it to breathe. And now? You barely look at ."

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not doing this with you right now, María José."

"Oh, you’re not doing this?" My voice cracked, rising. "That’s rich, Axel. You never do anything anymore. You don’t talk to , you don’t touch passionately, you barely sleep in the sa bed unless we try to ’make babies!’ Do you even know the last ti you kissed ?"

He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t. He just stared at the rug like it held the answers to our problems.

My breath ca faster. My heart pounded, wild and loud in my chest, like it was trying to escape the suffocating silence he always gave .

"It was two weeks ago since you kissed like you used to. With care and so much love." I said quietly. "You kissed because we were in front of your mother. I had chili flakes on my lip, and you wiped them off and kissed like I was a damn salad."

His nostrils flared. "Don’t twist things."

"Then untwist them for !" I stepped in closer, too close, until I could feel the heat of his body and the ice behind his eyes. "Tell what else I’ve done that’s made you look at like I’m a burden!"

"You haven’t done anything new."

"Then why are you punishing like I have?!"

He was then silent. His chest rose and fell once—slow and controlled, like he was taming sothing inside.

I wasn’t done. I couldn’t be. Not after everything.

"I wore the thong," I sighed.

His eyes flicked up to mine, startled. His mouth twitched, almost like it wanted to smile but didn’t rember how.

I went on anyway. "The red one. The one you bought in Madrid one month ago when I thought we’d put the past between us. I wore it tonight. I planned the night down to the wine and the candle scent. I tried to make it special."

"Don’t guilt with lace and nostalgia."

I laughed. It was bitter and loud and cracked right in the middle. "God, you really are good at this. At hurting without even raising your voice."

His lips thinned, but he didn’t say a word. Just watched unravel, his hands clenched at his sides, veins showing under his skin.

"You’re not a statue, Axel. You don’t get to go cold and silent and expect to be okay with it. I’m not a painting you can hang and forget."

"Enough," he said lowly.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Sothing inside had already split open.

"I used to feel like your ho. Now I feel like your furniture."

His eyes blazed. "I said enough."

I stepped back.

There it was—that voice. That command that could still slice through like a blade. But it wasn’t power I heard in it tonight. It was fear. Frustration. A man clinging to his sanity by the seams.

Was this it? Was my husband losing it? Was sothing else going on with him?

I folded my arms and nodded slowly. "Fine. You win. I’ll stop begging you to love ."

His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to correct . But no words ca. So I walked out.

Humiliated, a little breathless, and with a stupid thong cutting into my hips like a red string of fate that’d led straight into heartbreak.

The hallway was empty. The walls echoed with silence. I leaned against one and slid down until my knees hit the rug, chest rising and falling in angry hiccups.

I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to scream but hell, did I cry?

Ten minutes later, Carn rounded the corner with quiet steps and a silver tray in her hands. She paused, taking in the pathetic shape of her mistress slumped in the corridor like a forgotten bride.

"Oh no, Señora," she murmured, placing the tray down and kneeling beside . "What did that man say now?"

I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand, like so ragged schoolgirl. "I wore the thong."

Carn blinked. "The... Madrid one?"

I nodded.

"He didn’t even blink."

Carn looked personally offended on my behalf. "Señora, forgive , but if I may speak plainly—your husband needs a frying pan to the back of the head."

I laughed wetly, ridiculously, and suddenly.

Lila appeared next, carrying a plush robe and a determined expression. She gave one look and clucked her tongue. "Ay, this is exactly why I told you to go with the silk robe and not the lace. He doesn’t deserve lace."

"I didn’t think I’d be crying in the hallway like a rejected heroine," I muttered.

Carn took my arm and helped up. "Co, Señora. This is not how a Luna ends her night."

Lila nodded. "Let him sit with his silence. You have better company tonight."

I blinked at them. "You two?"

Carn straightened her shoulders. "We may be your maids, Señora, but we are loyal to the throne and the heart. And tonight, your heart needs pampering."

Does it, really? Tell , who could best pamper if it wasn’t my husband who knew just the spots where I break and unbreak?