The Alpha's Forsaken Mate
Everyone turned their back on Louise Gorman the moment her niece vanished. Accused of kidnapping and killing little Chelsea, Louise was cast out by the very people who once swore to love her. Her cries of innocence fell on deaf ears—her parents branded her a monster, and Phyllis Brennan, her first love and Chelsea’s uncle, abandoned her for the grieving mother, Charlene. Sentenced to years behind bars, Louise’s life was shattered by a crime she never committed.
When long-buried evidence comes to light, she is suddenly released. But the world she returns to is colder than her cell. The Night Owl Pack sees her as a stain on their honor, and even Phyllis looks at her with nothing but contempt. With her spirit broken and her name forever tarnished, Louise disappears—presumed dead after leaping from a bridge on a rain-soaked night, leaving behind nothing but a broken necklace and unanswered questions.
Years later, the truth begins to claw its way to the surface. Phyllis, now plagued by guilt and relentless nightmares, is forced to reopen the past when the Werewolf Prince demands a reinvestigation. New clues point to a horrifying possibility: Louise was framed, and the real criminal still walks free.
Then, a mysterious woman enters the prince’s court—regal, fierce, and achingly familiar. As Phyllis digs deeper, he uncovers a web of lies and deception far more dangerous than he ever imagined. Could Princess Beatrice truly be Louise in disguise? And if so, what secrets is she hiding—and what will happen when justice finally catches up with them all?
--
Louise's POV
Snow blanketed the ground as I stepped out of the car, its engine fading into the distance, leaving only silence and the sting of winter air. I stood motionless before the Night Owl Pack’s gates—an outsider returning to the place that had once been my home.
It had been three long years. Yet the past clung to me like frost, sharp and unrelenting. I could still hear the echo of my mother’s voice:
“You deserve to rot in prison and die! You’re not my daughter anymore!”
Her words, as cold as the snow falling around me, had shattered me more than the prison walls ever could.
I remembered begging—desperate and trembling—“Mom, please, I love Chelsea! I would never hurt her!” But my pleas had fallen on ears too hardened by rage and shame. Even my father, usually so restrained, had raised his hand against me that day, sealing my fate in front of the entire council.
Only two people had stood beside me. Charlene, my sister in all but blood, and Phyllis. He had promised to fight for me, swearing we’d be together no matter what.
The court had sent me away, branded as a child killer.
But fate had turned. New evidence came to light. I hadn’t taken Chelsea. I hadn’t killed her. Someone else had. My name was cleared, and I was released—but no one from my family came to meet me at the gates. No one even called.
Still, I hoped. I hoped it was Phyllis who’d posted my bail. I hoped he’d be the one waiting beyond the gate, arms open. He had once been my lifeline, the reason I hadn’t given up in that misery.
Instead, the family car pulled up hours later, headlights glaring through the snowfall. My heart leapt, foolish and fragile. The door opened, and my father emerged—rigid and emotionless.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “I have no daughter like you. Leave.”
His voice held no anger now. Just absence.
Then came my mother. Her eyes found mine, and for a heartbeat, I saw softness—regret, even.
But she turned away.
“The council’s letter arrived,” she said to my father.
“She won’t be staying here,” he replied. “She’ll be relocated soon.”
Just like that, they left. Again.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I was done begging.
I entered the pack house quietly. Conversations died. Faces turned. Whispers ignited like dry leaves in fire. I didn’t need to hear the words—I could feel them. Judgement. Suspicion. Disgust.
Then my gaze caught him.
Phyllis.
He was standing by the staircase with Charlene, a smile still playing on his lips from whatever they’d been laughing about. But when he saw me, his expression froze.
Charlene rushed forward. “Louise!” she cried, pulling me into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to be there. You know how our parents are... they wouldn’t let me go.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. I didn’t have the energy to resent her.
Phyllis stepped closer. My breath hitched.
“You look… okay,” he said flatly. “Not like in your last letter.”
That letter—filled with my worst fears, my hopes, the longing for someone to still believe in me—had never been answered.
Something in him had changed. Or maybe something had died.
He carried my bag to the room I used to call mine. Everything looked just as I’d left it, like time had paused in my absence.
I wanted to ask him to stay. Instead, he left.
Restless, I went looking for him. His car was still outside. My feet carried me down the hallway, past sleeping portraits and cold stone, until I reached the library. Voices leaked through the door—low, intimate.
I reached for the knob. Then froze.
Through the gap, I saw Charlene perched on Phyllis’s lap, her fingers twining in his hair as their lips met—slow, familiar, certain.
My breath hitched. My heart shattered.
The one person I had clung to in the dark—was never really mine to begin with.
Two
Louise's POV
My fingers quivered as I brought the chilled glass of water to my lips, struggling to suppress the sobs threatening to rise. Across the room, Phyllis stood in the kitchen, casually preparing my favorite dish. He smiled, completely unfazed, as though nothing significant had happened—as if he hadn’t just torn my world apart moments before with a painful truth I never wanted to hear.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you for five years, Louise,” he murmured, calling me by the nickname only he ever used.
He carefully placed the grilled beef on a plate, dusting it with spices and nestling a perfectly done sunny-side-up egg beside it. “You should eat more. You’ve grown so thin.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the plate, my fingers tightening around the glass like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. Inside me, my wolf stirred with fury, urging me to lash out, to scream, to demand the truth. But I didn’t give in. I just swallowed the sob building in my throat.
The scene I had witnessed earlier haunted me. The words I’d overheard—each one soaked in betrayal—did more than hurt. They wrecked me completely.
In that instant, I would have chosen death over this unbearable reality.
My hands were still unsteady as I lowered the glass and approached the table. My eyes momentarily locked on the knife. A sharp, dark thought crossed my mind—I could stab him, force him to feel just a fraction of the torment he and Charlene had caused me.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I picked up the fork, cutting into the beef with trembling hands as hot tears finally escaped, sliding down my face without restraint.
Phyllis noticed immediately. “Louise, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
He reached out, his warm hands resting gently on my shoulders, lifting my chin until our eyes met. “Did something happen? What’s going on?”
His tenderness, his concern—it made me want to scream until I lost my voice. He brushed away my tears with such care, and it tore me apart inside. I wanted to believe this was a nightmare. A cruel illusion conjured from my years of pain and loneliness.
But this was real.
I had always loved Phyllis. Loved him so deeply, it hurt to even breathe near him.
“I love you,” I said quietly, voice trembling, thick with agony.
He smiled, gentle and affectionate. “That’s all you wanted to tell me? You scared me,” he said with a soft laugh of relief before kissing my forehead, then the tip of my nose. His lips lingered, hovering just over mine, closing the distance—
I moved away.
The image of him kissing my brother’s wife flashed through my mind, turning my stomach.
“I’m just hungry,” I said quickly, lying through my teeth as I forced a bite of food into my mouth. My hands still wouldn’t stop trembling. Prison had broken parts of me I didn’t even know could crack. But throughout all those years, what kept me holding on was the hope that Phyllis cared—that he was still waiting, that the truth would somehow save me.
Now, I wished the darkness of prison had swallowed me whole.
Earlier, I had hidden nearby, listening in horror to their conversation.
“Louise’s in the house. We can’t let her know about us,” Phyllis had whispered to Charlene, brushing her cheek with a familiarity that stabbed me in the gut.
Charlene leaned into him like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there.
“You’re right. It’s best to stay quiet until everything is settled,” she’d replied, voice heavy with guilt. “I miss Chelsea every single day. I wish Louise wasn’t the one responsible—but the evidence says otherwise. I still care for her. She’s like my own sister.”
She had spoken of me as if I had already been condemned. As though there were no doubt left.
“I wish things were different too,” Phyllis had sighed. “They’ve reopened the investigation, and someone’s digging up more evidence. But there are still pieces that don’t align. I just want to help you find Chelsea. I know how much you ache for your daughter. But Louise knows what she did with the body.”
“Yes,” Charlene’s tone had hardened. “She does. And you need to get her to reveal where it is. Chelsea trusted her. If she really loved her, she would come clean.”
“I’ll get the truth, Anna. I promise.”
Those words cut deeper than any prison sentence.
Charlene had never trusted me. None of them had.
Now, Phyllis poured a glass of my favorite berry wine and handed it to me with a smile. “Thanks,” I mumbled, doing everything I could to pretend nothing was wrong.
“I’ll make it up to you, Louise,” he said, noticing my hands still trembled. He gently took the knife and began slicing my beef for me. “I regret not coming to see you. The pack... there were too many obligations.”
“Why are your hands shaking like that?” he asked, concerned, eyes narrowing.
“My time behind bars wasn’t exactly kind,” I answered, my voice flat and hollow as I sipped the wine. “There were nights I wanted to end everything. But thinking of you kept me going. I clung to the thought that one day, the truth would surface.” I met his gaze directly. “That one letter you sent? I must have read it thousands of times. It was the only thing that gave me a reason to live.”
Phyllis froze. His knife stopped midway through the meat. His expression darkened with something unreadable. “What happened to you in there?”
I paused, unsure if I should even answer.
Other inmates had whispered cruel things to me. That someone had paid to ensure my suffering. That Phyllis Brennan—and my own family—wanted to see me broken beyond repair.
I hadn’t wanted to believe them.
But now? I saw how blind I’d been.
Before I could speak, a booming voice shattered the moment.
“What are you doing here?”
My father.
He barged into the kitchen, fury written all over his face. His angry eyes flicked from me to Phyllis, then to the plate of food in front of me.
“And you, Phyllis! Why are you giving her wine and a good meal? She doesn’t deserve anything close to kindness!”
Three
Louise's POV
I tipped the wineglass and drained its final drop, placing it back down with a soft clink. My fingers quivered as I released it.
"She's still your flesh and blood, Alpha Derick," Phyllis declared, rising in my defense. If I hadn’t personally witnessed his hesitation before, I might’ve made the mistake of thinking his concern was genuine. "She looks frail—barely holding herself up. She needs proper nourishment. The council even acknowledged there were inconsistencies in the case. There’s still a chance she didn’t take Chelsea… or end her life."
My father’s fury exploded like wildfire. "You can buy the illusion of truth with enough silver!" he snapped, his voice sharp and venomous. "Louise can spin all the lies she wants, but reality always claws its way to the surface! And it has! I’m sickened—utterly disgusted to be the father of someone who could kill her own sister!"
The way his glare seared into me felt like a knife slicing straight through my chest.
"I want you gone from my presence!" he roared, jabbing a finger toward the doorway like it was a weapon. "Get out, you filthy murderer!"
My throat tightened with emotion, but I refused to let myself cry. I forced my chin up, keeping my gaze fixed on him with as much strength as I could muster.
"Alpha—"
Phyllis tried again, but I cut him off before he could say more.
"You don’t have to stand up for me, Phyllis. I’ll follow his orders."
Without looking back, I turned and exited the room.
Phyllis remained behind.
When I stepped into what used to be my bedroom, I came to a halt. My mother was seated on the edge of the bed, her back stiff and her expression unreadable.
She stood as soon as she noticed me.
"This room no longer belongs to you," she said coldly. "It’s not appropriate. A servant will handle your belongings and move them to a more… suitable space."
I parted my lips, instinctively wanting to call her Mom—but I hesitated. Her earlier declaration echoed in my mind. She didn’t want that title from me anymore.
"Alright," I whispered quietly.
She strode toward the door, pausing just before she crossed the threshold.
"In three days, we mark Chelsea’s birthday," she said, her voice devoid of affection. "You will kneel at her empty grave and admit where you buried her body. Confess. Maybe then we can begin to mend the devastation you brought upon us." She paused, her eyes briefly shimmering with something I couldn’t decipher. "If Kian were still alive, he would’ve made sure you paid for what happened. He’d never have forgiven you—just like we won’t."
Then she left, the sound of the door closing behind her like a final verdict.
That was when the tears finally broke free. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor, the cold stone against my skin offering no comfort. My sobs were quiet but violent, wracking my body with sorrow too deep for words.
I no longer had a family.
There was no love left for me in this world.
Nothing remained.
Except—my wolf.
She hadn’t surrendered. She still burned with the desire to survive. To unearth the truth.
But how much longer could I endure this?
The wounds were too deep.
And soon, my vision would be lost forever. The attack from that day—acid splashed across my face, my head cracking against stone—had left damage my wolf couldn’t repair.
And Phyllis... If he had truly cared, maybe I wouldn’t feel this shattered.
They relocated me to a small, cramped space near the servants' quarters. I nearly laughed. That’s how low I’d sunk in their eyes. They had never truly seen me as one of their own.
Still, there was a bed.
It wasn’t like the ice-cold cell where I’d once been caged, forced to lie on the floor and wait for the end. Even during the harshest winters, my parents hadn’t spared me a blanket.
The only source of warmth had come from someone anonymous. A thick winter coat. A heavy wool blanket.
"The comfort of a killer? Not deserved," the guards had sneered.
A killer.
Was I truly one?
Some nights, I almost believed it. Almost wished it were real. Because then at least the suffering might have some justification.
But the pain never stopped.
I barely slept. This new room wasn’t freedom—it was just a prettier cage.
Why stay here?
Nobody wanted me.
I stared at myself in the cracked, foggy mirror mounted on the wall. My reflection gave me a bitter grin.
Tomorrow would be Chelsea’s birthday.
I missed her so much.
Her laugh, her light, her innocence.
Who did this to you, Chelsea?
Who took you away?
That question haunted me endlessly—from the day she vanished, from the moment we saw that horrifying photo of her bloodied, lifeless body. No one had located it. No one admitted to sending it. But still, they pointed fingers at me.
How could anyone hurt such a pure, joyful soul?
I couldn’t breathe in that suffocating room a moment longer.
As I walked through the halls, whispers trailed after me like ghosts. Murderer. Monster.
I kept my eyes low, my vision warping until I collided with a table and a vase toppled. It crashed to the floor, scattering in jagged shards. I knelt quickly to clean it, my head spinning. My left eye gave me nothing but a hazy blur. I blinked, trying to focus—
"You!"
That voice froze the blood in my veins.
My father.
"How dare you show yourself!" he bellowed, advancing on me. "You murderer!"
He seized my arm violently, pain shooting through it like fire. His grip felt like it would shatter bone. Then he shoved me away with loathing.
"I didn’t mean to—" I tried to explain, but my words were faint.
My stomach twisted with dread.
The vase I’d broken… it wasn’t ordinary.
It had held Kian’s ashes.
His urn.
"I—No—I didn’t know—"
The slap landed so quickly I didn’t even see it coming.
The sound echoed. My ears rang.
"You destroyed him! Just like you destroyed Chelsea!" he thundered.
I reached for my cheek, already feeling the sting of blood from where his ring had split my skin. My hand trembled.
I stared at him—the man who once held me as a child.
And for the first time, it became devastatingly clear.
I was no longer his daughter.
Not now.
Maybe not ever again.
Four
Louise's POV
"Don't ever come back here again! I warned you, didn't I? How could you not understand? You carry the blood of evil! You are no daughter of mine!"
My father's voice echoed like thunder in the room, filled with nothing but loathing. There was no affection in his eyes. No care. Just revulsion.
Why had I come back?
What was the purpose of this pain?
My eyes blurred with tears. "I'm sorry… I never intended for things to end up like this."
"Get her out of my sight! Take her to her quarters!" he shouted.
Without a shred of kindness, two guards seized me, their grip harsh and unforgiving, treating me like some criminal off the street. Not like the Alpha’s daughter. Not even like a person.
They threw me into my room, and I collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud. I didn’t move. I simply stared at the ceiling, detached from everything.
Why did I return at all?
The ache inside me was suffocating—an unbearable weight.
Why was I still breathing? Just to be called a killer? To be rejected by my own family? Betrayed by the one person I had given my heart to?
Moon Goddess, what sin did I commit to deserve this torment?
My wolf whimpered quietly within me, sensing my torment and heartbreak. She urged me to endure, to fight for what was right.
But what remained worth fighting for?
I forced myself to sit up and glanced down at my trembling hands—bloodied and torn, the wounds refusing to close quickly.
I had nothing left to give.
I’d never been the kind to harbor hate. Perhaps that was my fatal flaw. Maybe I was foolish to still feel anything for people who only wished I’d disappear.
I laughed. A cold, bitter laugh that filled the silence like shattered glass. It felt unhinged. Like I was slipping into madness.
When Chelsea’s birthday came, I still went. The entire pack gathered to honor her memory as if she were still among them. I stood at a distance, unnoticed, watching as they lifted her framed portrait onto a temporary altar. She looked young. Radiant.
I wore the dress she had picked for me—a modest blue one.
Charlene approached with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Did Mom ask you to come, Louise? You really shouldn’t be here…” She sounded concerned, but I knew it was just an act.
Phyllis stood beside her, offering no words, no comfort. He avoided my eyes entirely. He looked… embarrassed.
Suddenly, my mother appeared and grabbed my arm, her grip iron-tight, dragging me forward without a word of explanation.
She led me directly to the empty casket.
“Kneel,” she commanded sharply. “Tell us where our Chelsea is buried.”
As if I wasn’t her child. As if I didn’t matter at all.
Then my father stormed up, his rage almost palpable. "Have you lost your mind, My Luna? Why would you bring her here?"
“She belongs here,” my mother replied firmly. “She needs to atone for her sins. She must tell us where Chelsea’s remains are.”
I stared down at the casket, cold and hollow.
Would my death bring them peace?
No.
They’d rejoice. They’d claim justice had prevailed. That the monster had been slain.
"My Luna, Alpha Derick… Please reconsider," Charlene whispered, holding Chelsea’s beloved doll—the same one I had chosen, the one Kian had given her.
My breath faltered.
The memory crashed down on me like a tidal wave.
Kian had been thrilled when I picked that doll. Chelsea had adored it. She carried it with her everywhere.
And the day after… Kian was gone.
Killed by rogues while managing a territorial dispute. He had been the future Alpha. But fate had stolen that future.
The entire Night Owl Pack mourned his loss.
But I wasn’t allowed to.
Because right after we buried Kian… Chelsea disappeared.
My gaze landed on Phyllis. He was finally looking at me, and there was something different in his eyes this time. Something softer.
"Charlene speaks with reason, Alpha Derick," he said gently.
"You still stand by the woman who took our only son’s child from us?" my father barked. "Are you blind, Alpha Phyllis?"
Phyllis clenched his jaw. “Is love that easy for you to discard, Alpha Derick? She is your daughter. I still care for her.”
“You care?” My father let out a cruel laugh. “You have feelings for a murderer?”
Whispers stirred among the pack—wolves from allied clans and neighboring territories—all murmuring my name like it was filth. The disgrace of Night Owl.
“She’s no daughter of mine,” my father declared, venom lacing every word. “She killed Chelsea. Her death would be justice!”
That was when I saw it.
Phyllis’s face turned red—not with anger, but humiliation.
Not because of me.
Because of himself.
Because he wasn’t standing beside me out of loyalty or love—he was doing it to save face in front of the others.
He didn’t love me.
Because if he did, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve believed in me.
I had thought Phyllis understood me more than anyone ever could. But I had been wrong.
No one truly knew who I was.
With slow, heavy steps, I walked toward the casket.
I lowered myself to my knees.
A shocked burst spread through the crowd like wildfire.
Then came silence.
They were all watching.
Waiting.
Waiting for the confession that would never come.
Five
Louise's POV
"Now that you’re finally seeing things clearly, confess," my mother urged, her voice quivering with fragile hope. "Do it for Chelsea." Every syllable carried the weight of her sorrow and longing, her anguish bleeding through her words.
Tears clouded my vision as I gazed at Chelsea’s photo—propped delicately atop her coffin. I could almost hear her again—gentle, vibrant, full of life.
"My beautiful Auntie! Come on, play with your adorable niece!"
Her giggles echoed in my ears, so vivid it felt like she was still here. I saw her jumping onto my bed, laughter spilling from her lips as she planted kisses on my cheeks.
"Come on, wake up! Let’s play already!"
I used to hold her close, tickling her until she laughed with delight, the room bursting with joy and warmth.
Now, only silence remained.
An empty ache expanded in my chest. My throat constricted, and before I could stop myself, I broke into sobs.
"Please, Louise," my mother implored again.
"Tell us the truth, Louise," Charlene added, her voice cracked and desperate.
The pain clawed at my insides. My hands gripped my chest, as if I could stop myself from falling apart. My voice shook as I spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Chelsea," I whispered through the tears.
I cried harder. "I’m sorry I failed you. I should’ve protected you. I made a promise and I broke it. I couldn’t keep you safe. I couldn’t get you the justice you deserve."
"What are you saying? Just tell us what really happened!" my mother snapped, her composure crumbling.
"I’m sorry..." My words quivered. "Sorry that you’re blaming someone who isn’t responsible. Sorry that—"
A sudden, violent tug on my hair silenced me.
Charlene.
Her fingers twisted into my hair, her fury flaring with every syllable. "Sorry for what, Louise? Just tell me where my baby’s body is! Stop hiding behind lies!"
"I didn’t hurt Chelsea!" I screamed, voice ragged from anguish. "I swear on the Moon Goddess! On my life—I swear I’m innocent!"
Charlene’s grip loosened, her face streaked with tears.
Phyllis rushed to her side, wrapping her in his arms. Then he faced me, his eyes ablaze with hatred.
"Why can’t you just admit it, Louise?" His tone was cutting, detached. "That’s all your family wants—to know where Chelsea is. Just tell us."
I stared at him, my heart fracturing again.
"I’ve told you already—I didn’t take her. I never laid a hand on Chelsea!" I dropped to my knees on the cold floor. "Why won’t anyone believe me? Why does no one trust me?"
My father stepped forward, his expression unreadable. My mother’s was twisted with rage and unbearable grief.
"How are we supposed to believe a murderer? A liar?" my father barked. "Even the Moonstone revealed your guilt!" His hand lunged forward and clamped around my throat.
I struggled for breath. My lungs screamed, my vision dimmed.
"Would the Moonstone lie?!" he roared. "Why won’t you admit what you did?! You’re a monster—you deserve death!"
I didn’t resist. I just stared at him—the man who once called me his little girl.
And then, I let out a cold, bitter smile.
"Then kill me," I croaked. "Isn’t that what you all want? The killer dead?"
His hands began to shake where they held me. Then suddenly, he let go, and I collapsed to the polished floor, struggling for air.
"Kill you?" His voice was like ice. "No. Death is too easy. You’ll suffer for what you’ve done. I won’t let a Gorman get away with murder—not even if she’s my own flesh and blood. As Alpha of Night Owl, I will make sure justice is done."
I pushed myself up slowly, my limbs weak, but my voice firm.
"You talk so much about justice," I said, pain laced in my words. "But you’ve never given me fairness. You didn’t even try to hear me out. You didn’t ask for the truth. You just threw me away—like a criminal—without a shred of proof."
A sharp slap rang through the room.
My face exploded in pain. I tasted blood on my lips.
"You will not speak to the Alpha that way!" my mother hissed.
Despite it all—despite how they had hurt me so deeply—I still cared.
I still loved them.
"I’ve respected you all my life," I said quietly, my voice turning cold. "But now I finally understand… I’ve had enough."
Another slap. This one from my father.
"Say another word and you’ll get more than that," he growled through gritted teeth.
I laughed bitterly. "Don’t worry. I’m done talking." I lifted my chin, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Believe whatever suits you. I won’t waste another breath trying to change your minds."
I turned my back on them and walked away.
My vision wavered, the world spinning as despair and exhaustion weighed heavy on me. Still, I kept moving—past the pack hall, past the main house—further away from the people I once called family.
I reached up, fingers brushing against the chain around my neck—the one that held the ring Phyllis had given me. A symbol of a love that had never been real.
I tore it off and flung it as far as I could.
There was nothing left for me here.
Nothing worth staying for.
Nothing worth living for.
Today, I would end it all.
