Her Mate Chooses The Fake Sister Who Stole Her Life

Avery's POV

I stood in my lingerie before the full-length mirror as the seamstress took final measurements for my custom ivory wedding gown.

"Hold still, Miss Emerson," she murmured, easing the delicate fabric over my shoulders. The back zipper hissed shut, molding the dress to my curves like a second skin.

"Oh, you'll be the perfect Luna of Alpha Liam," the seamstress gasped. "In twenty years of tailoring, I've never seen a bride glow like this."

A satisfied smile curved my lips as I studied my reflection. The stylist had swept my chestnut hair into an elegant cascade down my back, the ends dusting over the gown's silver-stitched train like autumn leaves on frosted silk. With the diamond tiara catching the light, I could almost believe the fairy tales—the lost princess returned to claim her fated happiness.

I couldn't wait for Liam to see me looking so perfect. My husband-to-be. My mate.

I snapped my fingers for the attendant to bring my phone. Liam should have been here thirty minutes ago. As if summoned by my irritation, the screen lit up with his caller ID.

"Where are you?" My manicured thumb tapped the phone case. "The final fitting starts in—"

"Avery, emergency at the office." His usually smooth baritone crackled with tension. "Can't talk now—"

The call died.

I stared at the darkened screen, my half-formed protest dying on my lips. Five years together, and he'd never once cut me off mid-sentence. What kind of emergency could it be?

Liam was already the formidable Alpha of the Silvershroud Pack, and our union would only solidify his strength. The marriage alliance had been arranged since my birth. Although I'd once gone missing, the Goddess brought me back. Even more miraculously, we weren't just an arranged couple—we were fated mates.

I could never forget our first encounter. The moment our eyes met, we felt the bond. The Moon Goddess made us for each other. Everyone knew it, and both of our packs eagerly awaited our wedding. So why did I feel so restless now?

I exhaled sharply, my fingers sliding to another number. My mother, Luna of the Frostveil Pack. The other person who had promised to be here today.

I was only six when I was taken, but I still remembered her warm scent of jasmine and snow. I had always dreamed of being back in Mom's arms, but when I finally returned at eighteen, her arm was wrapped around another girl's shoulders.

"Welcome back, Avery," she smiled at me, but the warmth in her voice wasn't meant for me. "This is your sister, Riley."

Riley Emerson. A replacement, adopted to soothe my mother's grief after I went missing.

Riley hadn't just taken my place as Mom's daughter—she'd grown up beside Liam, becoming his closest confidante. Had I never returned, she would have been the one standing at his side today.

I tried not to complain. I truly did—especially after Liam swore I was his one and only, his true love. I tried to accept Riley as a sister. But Riley... she hadn't accepted that. To her, I was an intruder, stealing the life that should've been hers. And five years ago, she nearly ended me for it.

No. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the memories away. Riley had been punished. Liam was mine. Our wedding was finally happening. She couldn't hurt me anymore.

Swallowing the bitterness, I dialed my mother's number. We'd already missed so much—I wouldn't let this moment slip away too.

"Mom... you're late." The words tumbled out the second the call connected, my voice too eager, too needy.

"I'm not coming to the boutique." Her reply was ice, slicing through my fragile excitement.

"W-What?" My throat tightened, the weight of her rejection crashing over me.

"Something came up. Don't call again." The line went dead before I could protest.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear like an angry hornet. My arm dropped limply to my side, the phone slipping from my numb fingers to land with a thud on the plush carpet.

What the hell was happening? A gnawing unease curled in my chest. My wolf, Lydia, snarled in warning. Something was wrong.

Without thinking, I bolted from the boutique, my wedding train forgotten. I needed to find Liam.

I took the private elevator up, my reflection in the mirrored walls showing a bride-to-be with fire in her eyes. The doors hadn't fully opened on the executive floor before I dashed out.

Liam's secretary leapt up. "Miss Avery, please, he's in a private—"

"Move." The single syllable dripped with warning.

I was a full-grown Alpha wolf and soon to be their Luna. They couldn't afford to piss me off. Swallowing hard, she moved.

The oak door exploded inward under my palm. I'd thought of a lot of possibilities. Liam could be in trouble. Maybe he just didn't want me to worry.

However, what greeted me froze the blood in my veins—Liam's broad back bent over a slender figure, their lips locked in what looked like desperate passion. The woman's manicured fingers were tangled in his hair.

Then the scent hit me.

Vanilla and deceit.

"Riley." The name tore from my throat, and Lydia growled inside me.

Time fractured. Liam whirled around, his usually perfect hair slightly disheveled. Riley—that backstabbing b*tch—had the audacity to smirk at me over his shoulder. Her pink tongue darted out to lick Liam's taste from her lips.

Lydia erupted. My claws shredded the doorframe as I launched forward.

"YOU DARE TOUCH MY MATE?" The roar shook the glass windows.

To his credit, Liam moved faster than I'd ever seen. He planted himself between us, palms raised. "Avery, wait—"

"Wait?" I nearly choked on the word. "You missed our final fitting for this? After everything she's done?"

My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Five years ago, she left me bleeding in the snow. And now you let her put her hands on you?"

Liam's handsome face twisted in anguish. "It's not what you—"

Riley chose that moment to whimper dramatically, pressing herself against Liam's back. "Please, Liam... she's scaring me." Her voice trembled, but her eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—locked onto mine with quiet triumph.

Lydia snarled inside me, my claws unsheathing with an audible shink. The wolf in me recognized the challenge for what it was. This b*tch was playing us both.

"You have three seconds to get your hands off him," I growled, my voice layered with the threat of my wolf.

Liam's jaw tightened. "Enough." His Alpha power rolled through the room, pressing against my skin like a warning. But I was no subordinate to be cowed. I was his equal.

"Then choose." My words sliced through the heavy silence. "Right now. Her or me."

For the first time since I'd known him, Liam hesitated.

A heartbeat. Two.

That was all it took. His answer was clear enough.

The bond between us—the one that had hummed with certainty since the day we met—fractured. Lydia let out a wounded howl in my mind, and something inside me broke.

I took a step back, my claws retracting. The fire in my veins turned to ice.

"No." Liam finally moved toward me, his hand outstretched. "Avery, it's not what you think—"

"Save it." My voice was eerily calm now, the storm replaced by something far more dangerous—finality. I slid the diamond engagement ring from my finger and let it clatter onto his desk.

"The wedding's off."

Riley's breath hitched—not in distress, but in victory.

Liam's eyes darkened, his Alpha instincts flaring. "You don't get to make that decision alone."

I smirked, bitter and sharp. "I just did."

Then I turned and walked out—my head high, my heart in pieces, and my wolf howling in grief.

I stormed into Howling Moon, the bass of the music thrumming through my bones like a second heartbeat. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, whiskey, and wild magic—werewolves, shifters, and thrill-seekers packed the underground bar, their laughter and growls blending into the night.

I wasn't supposed to be here—dark, reckless, alive. None of those words were meant for the Emerson heir—but after tonight, after the way Liam had looked at her, I didn't care about rules anymore.

I slid onto a barstool, the leather creaking beneath me.

"Something strong," I told the bartender, a broad-shouldered shifter with gold-flecked eyes. He gave me a once-over—my rumpled blouse, the smudged mascara I hadn't bothered to fix—but didn't ask questions. Smart man.

The whiskey burned going down, but I welcomed it. Better than the ache in my chest.

I shut my eyes and ordered another shot. I gulped it down and kept ordering more until my surroundings started to feel ligh