My Mate’s Father Desires Me

A fine March drizzle misted the windshield, settling like a layer of stubborn ash.

When Sienna parked outside Caleb's apartment building, the wipers were still sweeping back and forth across the glass, beating out a steady, muted rhythm.

On the passenger seat rested a deep blue velvet box containing a wristwatch. Three months earlier, Caleb had lingered in front of a boutique window, his gaze caught on it for a beat too long. He hadn't said a word, but Sienna had noticed. She had asked the clerk to hold it, saving the surprise for today—their fourth anniversary.

She had left the law firm two hours early, canceling an internal meeting she was supposed to chair, even having her assistant manufacture a flimsy excuse about feeling unwell.

Under the bleak weather, all that hurried pretense and quiet excitement felt fragile. She disliked the rain; it ruined her shoes and soaked her trousers, leaving her looking unkempt.

And she had spent so long preparing for this evening.

Sienna cut the engine, grabbed the gift box, and stepped out into the damp air.

Rain pattered against her coat. Without bothering to open an umbrella, she took the entrance steps three at a time and darted under the awning.

The building's doorman recognized her and gave a polite nod, asking nothing.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed Caleb's floor. As the doors slid shut, she caught her reflection in the polished metal—hair slightly damp from the rain, but still neat enough, her lipstick intact.

She even rehearsed the line silently: "Don't be nervous. It's not like this is your first time here."

The elevator chimed open.

The hallway was dead quiet. The lamp by Caleb's door was off, but a warm sliver of yellow light spilled from beneath the frame. Sienna fished her keys from her bag and softly turned the lock.

Hoping to surprise him, she clutched the blue box as she pushed the door open.

The living room was empty. Caleb's coat lay draped over the sofa, and a half-empty glass of red wine sat on the coffee table.

Sienna called his name, but no answer came. Then she heard sounds coming from the bedroom—low, hushed voices, paired with an unmistakable, intimate rustling she wished she hadn't recognized.

Her feet halted, as though caught on an invisible snare.

She told herself not to jump to conclusions—maybe he was watching a video, maybe he had just left the TV on.

But deep within her chest, her Inner Wolf issued a low, guttural warning, a cold needle of dread creeping slowly up her spine. Sienna set the gift box on the dining table and walked toward the bedroom, one slow step at a time.

The bedroom door was left ajar, open just a finger's width.

Through the narrow gap, she saw the duvet bunched messily on the floor at the foot of the bed, a high heel tipped on its side against the carpet.

Pointed toe, stiletto, deep burgundy. It wasn't hers.

She knew she shouldn't go any further. Yet she pushed the door open.

Caleb was half-kneeling on the mattress, his dress shirt mostly unbuttoned, his face flushed and dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Completely unprepared for an intruder, he froze for a split second before jolting sideways, scrambling in panic to drag the sheets over himself.

Nadia lay reclined beside him, one bare leg exposed, her shoulder resting against the headboard.

The moment Nadia saw Sienna, she merely arched an eyebrow, as if she had been anticipating this scene for months. A faint, insolent smirk lingered at the corner of her lips.

Sienna stood frozen in the doorway, her hand still resting on the brass handle.

Her gaze drifted from Caleb's pale face to Nadia's smug expression, down to the pillow crumpled on the floor, and finally settled on the soft pink scented candle sitting on the nightstand.

She had brought that candle over just last week, telling him it would help him sleep.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, its muffled drumming muted against the glass.

"Sienna," Caleb finally managed, his voice as dry and raspy as sandpaper scraping against wood. "Just listen to me—"

"Listen to what lie?" Sienna's voice was flat, not even raised. "Listen to you tell me you were working late?"

The memory flashed through her mind—clearing her schedule, dodging a meeting, orchestrating every detail of what she thought was a romantic surprise, only to walk in on him in bed with another woman.

Caleb climbed off the bed, his bare feet touching the hardwood floor. He yanked at the hem of his shirt, but it did nothing to hide the angry red marks scattered across his collarbone. He reached out to grab her arm, but she took a sharp step back, dodging his touch.

"This is a misunderstanding," he stammered, words tumbling over each other. "Didn't you say you had a meeting tonight? I... I thought you were busy—"

"You thought I was busy?" Sienna let out a cold laugh. "Is that what matters here? The point is that you're cheating on me! The second my back is turned, you bring Nadia into the bed we sleep in!"

Caleb's lips parted, but whatever excuses he had prepared died in his throat.

Nadia sat up languidly. Making no rush to cover herself, she leaned back against the headboard, as if deliberately displaying every mark on her skin for Sienna to see.

When she spoke, her tone held a lazy, shameless candor, as though discussing the most mundane matter. "Sienna, there's no need to get so worked up. Caleb and I have been together for over a year."

Sienna turned her head to look at her. Nadia's gaze held no deception—only pity.

A condescending, venomous pity that practically said, *Look at you, finally figuring it out.*

Sienna's heart slammed violently against her ribs. Her Inner Wolf snarled in fury, but her rational mind went razor-sharp, freezing over with chilling clarity.

"Over a year?" Sienna repeated, turning her eyes back onto Caleb. "On your birthday last year, you told me Nadia was too young and reckless to take seriously."

Caleb drained of color, his lips trembling without producing a sound.

Nadia let out a soft chuckle. "By then, we'd already been together for four months."

Sienna stared at Caleb—stared into the eyes she had once believed were honest, gentle, and utterly trustworthy. Now they darted away, refusing to meet hers, like a pair of cornered rats.

A memory suddenly struck her: three months ago, late at night, she had rushed to the emergency room with an inexplicable, searing chest pain. The doctors hadn't found a single physical ailment, dismissing it as "likely acute stress."

She had called Caleb from the hospital, and he had murmured over the line, "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately. Get some rest, and I'll be right there by your side."

He had promised to stay by her side, while all along he had been in bed with someone else.

Sienna's right hand tightened unconsciously around the strap of her handbag, her knuckles turning white. She walked into the bedroom step by step, stopping at the nightstand. She picked up the pink scented candle and turned it over to check the base.

Her own handwriting was still legible on the label: "Goodnight, Caleb." Setting the candle back in place, she asked, her voice eerily even, "When did you decide not to tell me? From the very beginning, or after you realized you could get away with it?"

Caleb finally spoke, though no apology came. "I thought you could feel it... we've been drifting apart. You're always consumed by family affairs, council business—you never took the time to see what was happening between us."

Sienna stared at him. After a long silence, she gave a slow nod, appraising Caleb from head to toe with cold detachment.

"So you chose Nadia," she said. "And you chose to keep me in the dark."

Caleb's shoulders slumped slightly, yet instead of remorse, he offered an even worse defense: "A Mate Bond... isn't a prison. We have the right to choose—"

"A right?" Sienna cut him off. "You've been suppressing the bond behind my back, haven't you?"

Caleb didn't deny it. His silence was louder and more deafening than every lie he had ever told.

A crushing weight squeezed around Sienna's chest. All that chronic exhaustion, the phantom ache she had always blamed on long hours and burnout—in that instant, it finally had a name.

It was the agony of a severed bond, the physical backlash of two people's betrayal borne entirely by her alone.

She remembered the countless sleepless nights over the past year, the hollow ache of sitting alone in the dark waiting for him to come home, the relentless self-doubt as she asked herself what she was doing wrong—all while Caleb was in another room, in another city, tangled in sheets with her sister.

She slipped the silver Mate Ring from her left hand.

A faint indentation marked her finger where the band had sat. She held the ring for two seconds, staring at it, before opening her fingers. It hit the hardwood floor, bounced once, and rolled to a stop by the foot of the bed.

"Starting today," Sienna said, "whatever remains between us is something you can take up with my father. As for you and me, there is nothing left."

She turned on her heel and walked out.

Caleb bolted after her, bare feet slapping against the living room floor, shouting her name.

Sienna never paused. As her hand gripped the front door handle, Nadia's unhurried voice drifted from the bedroom: "Caleb, give her time to process it. Don't push her."

Sienna let out a laugh—so faint and hollow she barely recognized it herself. She opened the door and walked out into the corridor.

The hallway lights shone bright and harsh, casting her solitary shadow long against the wall.

The elevator doors opened and shut, sealing the apartment behind her.

Inside the elevator, Sienna looked down at the gift box still in her hand.

She had forgotten to leave it behind. The blue velvet was crumpled out of shape, its hard edges digging painfully into her palm.

When the elevator reached the lobby, she walked out.

Outside, the rain continued to fall. A narrow strip of dry pavement sheltered beneath the building's overhang. Sienna stood under the awning, staring out into the dark, drenched street, motionless for a long time.

She pulled out her phone, intending to call Richard, but her thumb hovered over the screen and froze.

She thought of messaging her lawyer, but it felt too early to put anything into words. Just then, a notification banner popped up across the top of the screen.

No contact name. The number was blocked. The message contained only one line:

"Now you've finally seen it with your own eyes."

Sienna looked up. Across the street, an ominous black sedan was parked in the shadows beyond the reach of the streetlights, its windows heavily tinted.

She couldn't see who sat inside, but she felt the weight of a gaze piercing through the glass, locked directly onto her.

She didn't move toward it. She simply stood under the awning, watching as the car door cracked open a sliver, then paused.

The curtain of rain blurred the headlights and streetlamps into watery halos. Sienna gripped her phone, her knuckles turning white. On the screen, below the anonymous text, the timestamp read: "Read 22:47".

She locked the screen and shoved the phone back into her coat pocket. The rain showed no sign of letting up, and the car across the street made no move to leave.

Whoever was inside was waiting for her to make her choice.