Rheia

My fingers curled tighter around the stem of the wine glass, the cold imprinting itself onto my skin. I hadn’t taken a single sip since I’d picked it up—mostly because if I did, I might crush the glass in my hand.

Across the room, he was smiling. Smiling. Laughing softly at something someone said, head tilted just a little to the side in that way he used to do only with me.

I swallowed hard, keeping the glass close to my lips so no one would see the way my jaw clenched.

Mine. Or he had been.

My ex-husband. My ex-Omega. Hers, even now, even if she no longer had the right to think it.

I forced a slow breath through my nose, counting each heartbeat like I was back in training. I had to behave. I had to. Because my instincts were screaming—screaming to walk over there, wrap a hand around his waist, and drag him somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could show him he was still claimed, still wanted, still the center of my damn world.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when jealousy was already burning me alive from the inside out.

He hadn’t believed me. He’d seen that stupid lipstick stain on my shirt—the one I didn’t even notice until he pointed it out with tears in his eyes—and he had walked away before I could explain. And I had let him go, stunned and furious at myself for not stopping him.

Only later did I learn it had been his secretary. A careless kiss to the fabric while helping fasten my necklace, quick and meaningless… but catastrophic in the eyes of an Omega who’d already been feeling insecure.

My heart had belonged only to him. Still did.

So tonight, I couldn’t pounce. I couldn’t demand. I couldn’t claim.

I had to earn him back.

I straightened as another person approached him, laughing a little too warmly, standing a little too close. My grip tightened again, muscles coiling beneath my dress.

“My name is Rheia,” I reminded myself silently, the way I did before important negotiations. “Alpha. Capable. In control.”

And for him… utterly undone.