Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 390

The internet exploded within minutes.

The first anonymous post came from a gossip blog, one known for breaking the biggest scandals in the city.

The image was blurred just enough, but the context was unmistakable—two naked bodies, tangled in silk sheets, caught in what was obviously a compromising position.

Their faces were obscured, but the caption beneath it sent the world into a frenzy.

“Two of the most influential people in Los Angeles caught in a scandalous affair—if only their significant others knew. The truth will come out soon.”

It took less than an hour for the image to spread like wildfire.

Celebrity gossip pages, news outlets, online forums, and social media platforms were flooded with speculations.

The comment sections were on fire, people throwing out guesses, dissecting the image, analyzing every inch of what was visible.

“This has to be someone high-profile. Look at the setting! That bed screams billionaire money!”

“Whoever these two are… one of them definitely belongs to someone else. The way this was posted screams affair.”

“I bet it’s the CEO and his mistress. Or maybe a politician?”

“What if it’s an older man and a younger woman? Sugar daddy situation?”

“Or worse… what if it’s a family scandal?”

The whispers grew louder.

The mystery made it even more intriguing. People zoomed in, trying to guess identities from body shapes, from small details in the background.

And while the media devoured the scandal, completely unaware of who the people in the picture really were, there was one woman who was too distracted to notice the chaos.

—

Margaret Winters sat inside the high-end café, stirring her tea absentmindedly.

Her mind was elsewhere, completely consumed with Thomas’s absence.

Across from her, Eleanor Harrington watched her carefully, taking a slow sip of her cappuccino before speaking.

“Margaret, darling, you’ve been picking at that muffin for ten minutes and haven’t taken a single bite. Spill it. What’s wrong?”

Margaret exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s Thomas,” she admitted. “He didn’t come home last night. And I know he’s lying to me.”

Eleanor frowned slightly, setting her cup down. “Are you sure? Maybe he just—”

Margaret cut her off with a humorless laugh. “Please, Eleanor. I’ve been married to that man for thirty years. I know when something isn’t right.”

Eleanor leaned forward, concerned flickering in her eyes. “What did he say when you asked?”

Margaret scoffed. “The same nonsense as always. ‘Work obligations. Late meetings.’ As if I’m some fool who hasn’t heard that excuse a hundred times before.”

Eleanor pursed her lips. “And you think it’s… another woman?”

Margaret’s stomach twisted.

She didn’t want to say it out loud.

Because if she did, it would make it real.

Her fingers clenched slightly against the porcelain teacup. “I don’t know, Eleanor. But my instincts are screaming at me that something is going on. And you know what’s worse?”

Eleanor shook her head. “What?”

Margaret let out a slow, bitter sigh.

“I don’t think I even care anymore,” she admitted. “I should be furious, I should be demanding answers—but I’m just… exhausted. Tired of being the loyal wife to a man who clearly doesn’t respect me. A man who feels he could do whatever that pleases him.”

Eleanor reached across the table, placing a hand over Margaret’s. “You deserve better, Margaret. You always have.”

Margaret let out a humorless chuckle. “Tell that to my twenty-year-old self. She was so in love with Thomas, she would have burned the world down for him.”

Eleanor squeezed her hand gently. “Maybe it’s time you start thinking about yourself for once.”

Margaret sighed again, rubbing her temple. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Eleanor gave her a knowing smile. “I do. Come with me.”

Margaret blinked. “What?”

Eleanor stood, grabbing her purse. “You’re stressed, you’re tired, and you’re overthinking. You need a day off from this nonsense. Let’s go to the spa. Relax for a few hours, clear your head.”

Margaret hesitated. “Eleanor, I don’t think—”

Her friend held up a hand. “No arguments. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

Margaret exhaled before nodding. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

Eleanor laughed. “Oh, please. You’re a Winters. You can pay for both of us.”

Margaret smiled, the first real smile she had in days.

—

The luxurious spa Eleanor took her to was one of the most exclusive in the city—an oasis of calm, designed to make people forget about their problems, if only for a while.

The moment Margaret sank into the hot stone massage table, feeling the tension melt away, she realized Eleanor had been right.

She needed this.

She needed to be away from her home, away from Thomas, away from the suffocating weight of pretending everything was fine.

As the massage therapist worked on her shoulders, she exhaled, closing her eyes.

“Maybe it’s time I stop waiting for Thomas to change.”

Maybe it was time for her to change instead.

—

After hours at the spa, the two women headed to one of the most exclusive boutiques in Beverly Hills.

Margaret hadn’t intended to shop—she hadn’t been in the mood—but Eleanor had other plans.

“If you’re going to start focusing on yourself, darling,” Eleanor said, flipping through a rack of designer dresses, “then you need to start dressing like a woman who knows her worth.”

Margaret sighed, running a hand over the elegant silk fabric of a deep red gown. “I don’t know, Eleanor. It feels so… silly.”

Eleanor gave her a pointed look. “Silly? Darling, it’s self-care. You’ve spent your whole life being Mrs. Thomas Winters. Maybe it’s time you remember what it feels like to just be Margaret.”

Margaret hesitated before finally grabbing the dress.

“Alright,” she said with a small smirk. “Let’s shop.”

Eleanor grinned. “That’s my girl.”

—

Meanwhile, as Margaret was finally starting to reclaim a piece of herself, the scandalous nude photo of Thomas and Kate continued circulating.

Speculation grew.

The whispers turned into louder conversations.

People were bent on connecting the dots and fishing out the identities of the naked bodies.

Soon…

The truth would come out.