Adele's POV
When my flight was forced to land in Paris instead of continuing to New York, the universe cracked open in front of me.
The crash changed everything.
While the world mourned a tragedy that was never meant to be mine, I sat in a cold airport terminal with my hands wrapped protectively around my belly.
Do not go back. You can't go back, Adele.
That night, beneath a foreign sky and a foreign moon, I made the bravest decision of my life.
I stayed.
Paris became my sanctuary. A city of stone and shadow, art and rebirth. A place where the scent of Caden Wayne—Alpha of a ruthless pack union, my husband, my mate—could no longer reach me. Here, even the moon felt softer. Kinder. It did not judge me for choosing survival over devotion.
I thought about how easily I had sold my wedding ring.
Ten million dollars reduced to cold currency, but the weight it lifted from my soul was priceless. With that final symbol of my past gone, I buried Adele Wayne and gave birth to someone new.
Fleur Swann.
A woman without chains. Without fear. Without an Alpha looming over her life.
I returned to my studies, throwing myself into design, structure, beauty—things that could be rebuilt when broken. And eight months later, beneath the glow of a Parisian dawn, I brought my twins into the world.
Chloe and Gabriel.
Two heartbeats. Two souls. Two tiny wolves who never once made me feel alone.
Now, years later, I stand outside their kindergarten, my coat pulled tightly around me as autumn wind dances through the street. My gaze flicks left and right, instinctively alert—because even after all these years, a part of me will always be a Luna who knows how quickly safety can shatter.
The bell rings.
Children spill out in laughter and chaos, their voices echoing like birds freed from cages. And then I see them.
My heart stumbles.
"Mommy!"
They run toward me, blonde hair catching the sunlight, blue eyes bright and sharp—eyes that once haunted my dreams because they mirrored the man I ran from.
I kneel just in time for them to collide with me.
Their arms wrap around my neck, their laughter vibrating through my chest, and for a moment, the world narrows down to this—warmth, love, breath.
This is my pack.
"How was kindergarten?" I ask as I guide them toward the car, buckling them in with hands that have done this a thousand times and still cherish it.
Chloe goes first, always confident, always blazing. "I solved a math problem the older kids couldn't," she says proudly. "The teacher gave me a gold star."
I kiss her forehead, my chest aching with pride. "Of course you did, my brilliant girl."
Gabriel practically vibrates in his seat. "And I read a whole chapter book and explained it to everyone!"
I laugh softly and ruffle his hair. "You amaze me every day, mon cher."
They truly do.
They're beautiful—almost painfully so. Like royalty born of moonlight. Gabriel is his father's mirror: sharp jaw, intense eyes, the quiet watchfulness of an Alpha heir. Chloe is mine—softer features, but with a mind just as fierce.
They turned five two months ago.
Five years since I stopped being someone's wife.
Six years since I walked away with nothing but tears and fear—and a determination to live.
Now, I am Fleur Swann. One of the most sought-after interior designers in Europe. My name carries weight. Influence. Power earned, not received.
Celebrities wait months for appointments.
The wealthiest families in the world ask, not demand.
I built this life myself.
The twins used to ask about their father.
I never lied.
"He didn't love us," I told them gently. "And sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do is leave someone who doesn't choose them."
They accepted it with a maturity that still humbles me. Whatever bond existed between them and the Alpha who sired them has long since faded into indifference.
Sometimes… even disdain.
Ironically, they are the ones now determined to find me a mate.
"Mommy needs someone strong," Chloe once declared.
"Someone who smiles," Gabriel added seriously.
They already have someone in mind.
Raphael Dumas.
Famous actor. International star. And somehow, part of our lives for six years.
I met him when I redesigned his London mansion. He fell first—and hard. But he never pushed. Never cornered me. Never demanded.
He simply… stayed. Next to me.
When rival firms tried to crush my business, the pressure vanished overnight.
I didn't know then that Raphael's influence had shielded me—quietly, without expectation.
Without strings attached.
Perhaps that is why my wolf doesn't bristle in his presence.
Perhaps that is why, for the first time in years, I sometimes allow myself to imagine a future that doesn't hurt.
Still… on nights when the moon is full, I feel it.
A distant pull.
A broken bond that was never fully severed.
Somewhere out there, an Alpha who betrayed me still breathes under the same moon.