Third Person's POV She could tell—Phelan was serious. As the predetermined future Alpha of the Sanchez bloodline, Phelan had never been a wolf who asked for permission. When he desired something, he claimed it. The fact that he chose to discuss divorce with Ulva calmly was not mercy, but acknowledgment: she had committed no fault within the mating bond. She had no true power to refuse. Ulva sat through the entire night in the study, the fire in the hearth dying down to embers as dawn approached. At sunrise, she asked him one final question—whether the severing of their bond was unavoidable. Phelan said yes. So Ulva agreed. But she demanded silence—for now. Time to prepare. She demanded the division of vast assets, land, and pack resources. Her composure reassured him. Phelan granted her time. The day before Phelan's death, Ulva received her pregnancy report from the pack infirmary. A healthy male heir. She told no one—least of all Phelan. Sanchez men were obsessive to the point of madness. Who could say whether, in the name of so-called true love, he would force her to abort the cub? After all, cubs tether wolves together. If he wanted offspring, Johanna could bear them later. Ulva would not gamble. It was Ulva who deliberately leaked Phelan's travel route to Johanna. How laughable—he believed he had found love, never realizing the she-wolf before him crawled straight from hell, her eyes and heart burning with vengeance. Perhaps love blinded even the sharpest Alpha. The first wolf to sense that Johanna was dangerous was Ulva herself. Earlier than Phelan ever noticed his own wavering heart, Ulva caught it—his hesitation, the way his gaze lingered. From the very first moment she sensed his distraction, before any signs surfaced, she made a decisive move.She sabotaged the contraceptive. She needed a cub. The Ulva bloodline was a den of jackals. Even if she left with enormous assets, she might not keep them. But the Sanchez Pack stood above all others. The value of the title First Luna of the Sanchez Pack far exceeded that of a divorced Ulva. She would never relinquish a position she had clawed her way toward with bloodied paws. And with a cub—especially the eldest grandson of the Sanchez line—the Ulva clan's greed would turn into devotion. They would elevate her and her son, becoming their most loyal shield. Compared to divorce, remaining bound offered far greater advantage. There was no choice. Phelan Sanchez was worth more to her dead than alive. Ironically, Phelan guarded himself against Ulva far less than he guarded himself against Johanna. Love could never be hidden. No matter how restrained, desire bled from the corners of the eyes, from the tail's subtle flick. Phelan must have known. But he overestimated a woman's love. Compared to tangible power and dominance, his importance was insignificant. Ulva loved him—but she loved power more. She would not return to the Ulva den and climb toward the summit all over again. Phelan might never have understood how the Luna who straightened his collar, prepared his morning meal, and urged him gently to return early… was the same wolf who sent him to his death. Ulva and Johanna were never friends. But for a brief time, they were allies. What followed unfolded exactly as Ulva had predicted. Johanna tore the Sanchez Pack apart from within. Lyall maddened by guilt and obsession, implicated himself in his elder brother's death and ultimately threatened his own life to flee with Johanna into exile. In a single stroke, Bastien lost two sons.The old Alpha was shattered. After Phelan's death, Ulva chose to remain in the Sanchez den as a widow. And the cub she raised with meticulous care—Derek Sanchez—slowly entered Bastien's sight. Derek resembled both his father and his mother. Sharp-minded. Gifted. Ambitious. Clear in his hunger. He earned Bastien's regard. Had Magnus not emerged like a black wolf from the abyss, Derek would have followed the same path as Phelan—becoming a qualified heir, a future Alpha. How could Ulva accept this? Just as she believed she stood one step from claiming the ultimate Luna throne, Phelan betrayed her. Just as she believed her son would inherit his father's dominance, Magnus shattered everything. If she had never glimpsed the summit, perhaps it would have been easier. But to fall short—again and again—by the narrowest margin… frustration fermented into obsession. Ulva never regretted her choices. Born unwilling to kneel, driven to claim the peak—this was her nature. Life itself was nothing more than a game of dominance. Her only regret was Derek. But he was her son. She understood his ambition. He, too, refused to be second. That was why he dared to gamble with his bond to Bella. The towering hall collapsed. The guests scattered. Standing amid the ruins, Ulva threw back her head and laughed. Phelan Sanchez. Phelan Sanchez. He never knew that a single flicker of his heart—one moment of weakness—had altered the fates of so many wolves forever.