On the way to the celebration for my solo design exhibition, my husband, Harrison, received a call.

A woman's voice filled the car, piped through the Bluetooth system.

"I'm back. And I'm ready to take what's mine."

Harrison didn't respond. His jaw clenched as he wordlessly stabbed the end-call button.

I took it as a clear rejection.

Until late that night, when his lawyer delivered the divorce papers.

Staring into the impenetrable depths of his gray eyes, I calmly signed my name. "Do I need to move out tonight?" I asked.

He must have expected arguments or hysterics, because a rare flicker of surprise crossed his cold, ascetic face.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "No need," he said, his voice low. "This Manhattan penthouse will be transferred to your name tomorrow."

I offered him a brittle smile and nodded.

Harrison didn't know that for a man with his intense need for control, me walking away with his money—calmly and without a single tear—was the ultimate act of war.

————————

1

I glanced at Harrison’s chiseled profile. "It's late," I said softly. "You should get some rest. Don't you have a board meeting tomorrow? I'll take the guest room."

With that, I stood to leave.

As I passed him, he shot out a hand, his grip like an iron clamp on my wrist. The heat from his palm sent a jolt through my skin.

His brow was furrowed, his thin lips pressed into a hard line, as if he were wrestling with confusion, or perhaps suppressing a violent rage.

He demanded, "Avery, why aren't you fighting me on this?"

"And if I did? Would you call off the divorce? Or does the great CEO of the Hawthorne Group get off on watching women grovel at his feet?"

Harrison stiffened, his deep gray eyes boring into me. Finally, he said in a low voice, "I'm sorry. I'll compensate you."

I turned my head just enough to reveal the tell-tale redness in my eyes. "Okay," I whispered. "I believe you."

The living room lights stayed on all night.

The next day, when we went to the courthouse to formalize the divorce, the compensation section of the agreement had several new pages.

After the paperwork was finalized, Harrison took my hand—a first for him. His gaze dropped to my stomach. "Let's have a meal together," he said.

In the past, I would have been ecstatic.

It was so unlike him. Harrison, always so cold and detached, never initiated anything.

But now, I took a half-step back, smoothly withdrawing my hand. I looked down. "Mr. Hawthorne, that wouldn't be appropriate."

Harrison's frown deepened, clearly unaccustomed to the sudden distance between us.

"Avery," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice as his long fingers loosened his expensive silk tie, "a divorce doesn't mean we're enemies. I can still provide for you."

I paused, not answering.

After all, three years ago, he had told me I wasn't even worthy of breathing the same air as him.

Taking my silence as consent, Harrison opened the car door for me himself.

He had never done that for me before.

I lowered my eyes. "The morning sickness is awful. I can't stomach the smell of truffles and oysters at the kind of French restaurants you favor."

Harrison froze, as if the reality of my pregnancy had only just struck him. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice strained.

I nodded politely. "Then I won't trouble you, Mr. Hawthorne. I should be going."

Harrison's lips thinned into a hard line, his tall frame rigid with a palpable anger.

But his gaze caught the lingering puffiness around my eyes, and he visibly forced himself to rein it in.

"Get in the car. I'll take you home."

This time, I didn't refuse. A strategic retreat is one thing; making a spectacle of it is another.

Throughout the drive, Harrison seemed to be wrestling with his words, his silence filling the car with a tension so thick it felt hard to breathe.

I knew what he wanted to say.

So I spoke first. "I'll raise this child on my own. When he's born, his last name will be Clark. He won't ever get in the way of you and your... reunion."

I thought my words were considerate, but Harrison's reaction was explosive.

He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching against the asphalt.

His face was grim, his dark eyes flashing with a fury I had never seen before.

"Avery Clark," he seethed, "are you that desperate to erase me from our child's life?"

Every girl dreams of her high school prom, and I was no exception.

My friends and I were getting ready to go dress shopping, but my parents couldn’t understand how important the prom was to me. They believed I should refrain from doing anything that could affect my image and bring negative attention to our family name.

Apparently, being the beta’s daughter put a leash on you having fun. Of course, I took every opportunity to enjoy my life and live life to its fullest. Mom said I reminded her of who she was before she found a mate, and tended to give me some leeway, but Dad was a huge stickler for the rules.

My mom, Sarah, was 5’ 6” tall with a toned frame and light brown hair that was chest length. She was a warrior in our pack and had taught me to fight since I was five. My dad, Ben, was 6’ 7” with a football-build body that could bench a car, had tattoos from head to toe, and slick black hair. He had never gone easy on me and was upset I was not a boy, but that did not stop him from raising me as such. I competed in all the same competitions as boys, but I had yet to get the best of him.

He thought I was just as good and should get the beta position when he retires—if I could shape up and not cause him more headaches. Laughing, I thought about all the lectures he had given me over the years. “What mate will want a girl who parties and is fast and loose with the rules, let alone what alpha would want you as a beta?” I laughed because I grew up with the future alpha, Damian.

He was my best friend, and occasionally we had kissed, but I was keeping my virginity for my mate.

Damian was 6’ 8” of solid muscle, had short black hair, and a tribal tattoo from his chest to his shoulder, around his neck and arm, and across his back. He was a walking sex-on-a-stick with piercing, bright blue eyes. His temper matched his bad-boy look, but he always had a sweet spot for me.

I knew I had always caught his eye. Being 5’ 7” with a slender and toned body, waist-length dark wavy hair, and emerald green eyes, I tend to catch a few guys’ attention. However, most of them thought they would get the position of beta, so I tend to ignore them.

“Hurry up, Nina!” shouted my best friend, Holly. She was beautiful with her creamy mocha skin and shoulder-length black hair. She might only be 5’ 5”, but her attitude was that of an eight-foot-tall person. Jumping away from my vanity, I ran to the front door before she could begin to climb the stairs. I kept her waiting once, and she almost broke my door down.

“I’m coming! I had to finish my makeup,” I said, slightly out of breath.

Chapter 1

ELENA

  I manage to hold the smile on my face as my son runs into the living room, jumping excitedly at the sight of his birthday cake. Seeing him so excited means everything to me.

  “Mom!” he yells, “I can’t believe it, you actually got the perfect birthday cake!”

I smile and glance across the room as Alpha Drake, my husband and Alpha of the Black Talon pack walks in. I could feel his aura miles away, causing goosebumps to litter my skin like confetti. He carries a brooding look on his face that breaks partly into a brief, emotionless smile as he picks up our son. 

He doesn’t even bother to look at me as he carries him to the table where the huge cake is placed.

  “You got what he wanted right this year,” Drake says, his thick black eyebrows furrowing as he glances at me.

Halo giggles as he grips the knife on the cake and Drake stabs a glare at me, a silent signal for me to join him behind Halo. My heart lurches and I rush to his side, but he doesn’t hold me, just a huge hand that he rests on Halo’s tiny shoulder. 

I gulp down the emptiness I feel and smile down at Halo.

“On three, Halo,” his deep voice rumbles. “Three, two-”

Suddenly, Drake’s phone rings and the cheerful air ceases as if life itself has been suked out of the room.

  “Dad! We were almost at one!” Halo whines.

“I'll be back,” Drake says flatly, walking toward the door.

I lean over Halo’s shoulders and whisper to him, “Come on, Halo. Cut your cake.”

“No!” Halo exclaims stubbornly and his voice sends a ripple through my heavy heart, “not without dad!”

I glance at Drake who is standing at the door. Clearly, he hears Halo’s cries but he doesn’t look back. I try to comfort Halo until Drake returns, but the latter only comes back with terrible news.

  “I have to leave,” he says coldly and my heart tumbles to my stomach, “something came up that I must attend to. Happy birthday, Halo.”

 “Dad!” Halo cries, “are you really going to leave on my birthday? I wanted to spend tonight with you and mom.”

Drake impatiently glances at the door, “Not tonight. Maybe some other time.”

I quickly catch up to him as he walks out of the door, “Drake, you can't leave our son now. He begged for this all week. Just the three of us tonight, that was his birthday wish.”

Halo also wants a special edition watch that Drake had promised him two weeks ago, but I won't dwell on that. Drake’s presence makes Halo more excited than anything else.

  “I know, but it is urgent, Elena. I have to leave,” he glances at his watch again. “I'm sure you can handle things here.” He says and walks out of the room briskly.

Halo sighs loudly and I turn around to see that he has already cut his cake. My heart aches badly as I rush to his side.

  “Here, Halo, let me cut a slice of it for you. It's just the two of us tonight, daddy's busy, okay?” I coo, holding a storm of tears back. 

  “I don’t want it, mum. I have school tomorrow, so I have to go to bed early.”

I stare at him in shock. I always have to force him to go to bed and I feel so terrible as I watch him stroll out of the living room. This is his dream night  and because of Drake, everything is completely ruined. 

I drop sluggishly on the couch, a defeated sigh escaping me. How long can I continue living with Drake like this?

  How stupid I was to have been excited when I found out that I would be the luna of the pack, Alpha Drake’s wife. It didn’t make sense to anyone, not even to me that a rogue slave turned out to be the mighty Alpha’s mate, more shockingly that he had married and made me his luna.

I don’t even have a wolf, no rogue slave does, the Black Talon pack makes sure of that. When I was younger, I had been captured by Drake’s father’s men and taken into the torture room where rogue slaves are de-wolfed.

I didn’t have my wolf when I was captured, which meant that they couldn’t extract my canines like they did to everyone else or tear out my claws, because I had none of that but after what they did to me, I stood no chance of ever having a wolf.

A drop of tears rolls down my cheek when I remember the excruciating pain I felt that dreadful night. They had coated a metal rod with liquid silver and heated it up and one of the men placed the hot silver-coated rod on my back, just above my spine to kill my wolf or my chances of ever having one. It was brutal and deadly, but it was effective.

My heart aches whenever I remember that I will never be able to shift into my wolf, but ever since getting married to Drake, I always try to focus on the future and what could be, but Drake…

I scoff bitterly and shake my head in regret.

He never treats me like a luna. Why should he? After all he only married me because the mate bond is sacred to him.

***

“Mom, you don’t have to drop me off in front of the school gate. Now, everyone will see that I’m still a mummy’s boy.” Halo whines as I switch off the ignition.

I beam at him and pinch his cheek softly, “Oh, but you still are, my dear Halo. Come on, let me give you a k**s.” I lean in and peck his forehead gently and he pushes me away giggling.

A classmate of Halo’s rushes toward us with a smile as we step on the pavement.

  “Happy birthday, Halo!” The cute little boy exclaims, “I saw it on my ipad, your birthday party was mad lit!”

Birthday party? I scrunch my brows in confusion just as another child, a girl, rushes to the scene, “Yeah! You also saw it? I’m quite disappointed you didn’t invite me, Halo. I had to watch everything on social media,” her frown spreads into a smile, “but I like you, so you are forgiven. Did you bring the bracelet?”

I am so confused that I can’t even utter a word. 

Halo frowns, “What bracelet?”

“Your birthday gift!” the girl stresses, “everyone saw it. Why didn’t you wear it?”

I swallow as I see the disappointment on Halo’s face. Halo never had a party, nor was any gift received.

  “Mom, what are they talking about?” Halo asks, his confused, depressed eyes staring up at me.

The girl’s eyes widen and she points behind us suddenly, “Look! There is the bracelet!”

I turn around to see the beautiful blonde walking into the school with her son and on her son’s left wrist is a beautiful, limited-edition diamond bracelet. 

I know who the woman is, and the sight of her sends a chill down my spine. Rosa Davenworth, Drake’s childhood lover who he never stops talking about. She had broken up with him for her mate five years ago and left the pack but they still kept in t***h.

When did she come back?

Seeing Rosa’s child with Halo’s dream bracelet could only mean that she was the one that had called Drake last night, she was what had been urgent! And instead of making Halo happy, Drake had decided to go to a child that wasn’t his, even giving him Halo’s birthday gift instead. 

Each pulse of my heartbeat sends a new wave of agony and disbelief into me, I can’t believe Drake can be so heartless to his own child.    “Luna, you’re here,” Rosa says excitedly, a spurious smile curled across her full, red l**s, “goddess, I didn’t think I’d meet you so soon and this charming young man of yours,” she waves at Halo who hides behind me and I cannot hide my displeasure at her presence.

“Why do you look so sad? I thought my presence would lighten your mood, especially since we’ll be seeing each other more often very soon,” she smirks at me.

  I frown at her, “Excuse me?”

Her perfectly trimmed brows furrow and she leans in and whispers, her voice carrying sarcasm, “Didn’t Drake tell you? I’m divorced now and I will be moving in with him,” she grins mischievously, “I can finally be with the love of my life.”

Chapter 1

The night before we were supposed to meet in person, my online boyfriend lost a bet, then handed me over like a prize.

I hadn't even processed it when his voice message landed in the group chat.

[Hey, everyone, here's a sneak peek of my girlfriend before tomorrow night. You're welcome.]

He dropped a photo of me from my freshman summer boot camp straight into the chat

The wedding drums were still echoing in my chest when the Moon Goddess spoke.

“Win the heart of one of the four mates I gave you before your twenty fifth moon or your soul will be erased forever. That was our deal little hybrid. And yet…you failed”

“How pathetic, tell me was humiliation not exhausting?”

Her voice slid into my head the way it always did — warm, unbothered, like she was commenting on the weather rather than ending my life.

“And now you can no longer continue, your time is up.”

I stood outside the great hall of the castle stronghold, back pressed against cold stone, listening to the crowd roar inside.

Through the heavy oak doors came the sound of horns, of celebration, of Rose’s breathless laughter as Dorian — the Lycan King, the last of my four assigned males — sealed his vows to her with a kiss.

It had been twenty-five years!

I had spent twenty-five fʊcking years in this world miserably. Born into it as a wailing infant with no memories and a divine mission from the Moon Goddess stitched into my soul like a scar.

The deal was to make one man of the four she picked to love me. Just one to truly love me and I get to go home back to my world and live.

So I agreed. How hard could it be, I said.

Yet, I hadn’t managed a single one.

“Tough luck, little hybrid. It was really fun watching those petty attempts, mostly quite shameful and humiliating I must say,” the Moon Goddess said cheerfully, mocking me.

“I really thought Dorian was going to be your moment. The enemies-to-allies arc? The late night war councils? Very compelling, your seduction was topnotch. I was invested.”

“YOU!.. you were invested?,” I almost shouted but I had to control my tone. “How wonderful for you.”

“C’mon don’t be like that. I gave you good material to work with.”

“You gave me a brother who hἅtes me, a warlock who treated me like a lab specimen, a king who forgot I existed the moment his fated mate walked in, and an extremely cold Vampire who never once looked at my face yet every other lady was all over him.” I pushed off the wall. My legs felt like water.

“Phenomenal material. Truly.”

“Look at it from this angle, I made you a Hybrid, the only rare creature in this world with fast healing abilities… uhmm.. and the Vampire situation was genuinely tragic I’ll admit, it was unexpect—”

“You fʊcking made things worse…whatever I don’t care again, what happens now?” I cut her off. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You said if I failed, I had to end it myself. Is that still the arrangement?”

A pause took over. Suspiciously long for a goddess who always had something to say.

“…Yes. Those were the terms.”

“Fine. I’ll commit suicide if that’s what you want”

I said inside my head and walked away to a sacred place in the castle while everyone was preoccupied.

………….

The river road outside the stronghold walls was quiet at this hour. Everyone was inside celebrating.

The torches along the path burned low and orange, throwing long shadows across the cobblestones.

I knew this road with my eyes closed because I had walked it a thousand times over twenty-five years — running errands, delivering messages, making myself useful to people who never noticed. All the cold looks, all the cruel words. Every single one of them had turned on me because of Rose.

Rose was the heroine of this world.

The Moon Goddess told me not to blame myself at some point that I was just always usɛless and incapable of winning just one male lead heart. She said Rose was the female lead, so of course the male leads would be drawn to her.

Pathetic. Yes I now knew.

I found the old bridge at the edge of the Ashburn territory.

The river below ran fast and black in the dark and the cold breeze was something I enjoyed.

I climbed onto the railing without letting myself think much as I inhaled the air. I was holding in my hand a silver white oak stake, one I had stolen from the castle to k!ll myself as it was the only thing I could use to end my life all thanks to Claire, the Moon Goddess.

“You know,” the Moon Goddess said conversationally, “for someone who’s allegedly giving up you’re moving very efficiently.”

“Goodbye, thanks for the twenty five years of torment” I told her, wrapping my fingers around the stake as I directed the sharp edge at my heart.

“Yara—”

“I said goodbye.”

I looked up at the sky. The moon was full tonight. Bright and indifferent. Of course it was.

Just because I was born into this world as a supporting character — was I really doomed from the start?

I closed my eyes and stabbed my heart with full force but before it made contact a hand seized my wrist from making a move.

The grip was brutal — yanking me off the railing so hard I crashed sideways into a broad chest before being shoved back against the bridge wall. My shoulder blades hit stone and cracked, I immediately opened my eyes spitting out blo0d forcefully.

ARGHHH FʊCK!

“Next time listen to me, I was trying to warn you not to stop you from dying duh” Claire chipped in.

It was Tyson.

My brother in this world. Alpha of the Ashburn pack. One of the four men the Moon Goddess had assigned me. He was still in his wedding clothes. He must have left right after the ceremony.

He looked furious.

“What,” he said, “the hɛll do you think you’re doing?”

Yeah he was pissed.

I stared at him. Twenty-five years of memories hit me all at once — every cold look, every dismissal, every time I had made myself smaller so he could feel bigger. And underneath all of it, buried so deep I had almost forgotten it was there, the stup!d stubborn flicker of hope I had carried for him since I was old enough to understand what a family was supposed to feel like.

“What does it look like,” I spat back.

“It looks like you’re making a scene outside our family’s territory on my Alpha’s wedding night.”

His jaw was tight. “You want to commit suicide? Are you okay? Do you have any idea how that reflects on me?”

There it was.

I laughed. It came out wrong on normal occasion I would have hid it but fʊck it.

“Of course. That’s why you followed me. Not because you were worried. Because of how it looks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” I straightened up, brushing his hand off my wrist. “Go back inside, Tyson. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He grabbed my ἅrm again before I could move and snatched the stake away from me. “You’re not dying on Ashburn land.”

“Then I’ll walk further, give me back the stake!.”

“Yara—”

“Let go of me.”

He didn’t. His grip tightened and something shifted in his expression — something that might have been real if I still had the energy to believe in real things. “Stop being dramatic. Rose’s wedding was always going to happen. You knew that.”

And there was the slap. Not with his hand he used words. He’d always been better with words.

I felt something go very quiet inside me.

“You’re right,” I said softly. “I knew still fʊck you.”

He must have heard something in my voice because his eyes narrowed. Then, like he couldn’t help himself, like twenty-five years of cruelty had just become a habit he couldn’t break even now — his free hand came up and caught me by the neck then he slammed me harder on the wall that I felt my bones crack especially my skull.

Blo0d trickled down my lips as I groaned, enduring the pain, then I smiled.

It was not a kind smile. He had definitely hit a nerve.

“You just hit me again,” I said, getting pissed, “Don’t make this worse, hand me the stake.” I turned to look at him deἅdly.

“No. Get out of my sight”

Something flickered behind his eyes but I wasn’t going to back down.

I saw my chance to snatch the white oak stake from him and stab myself in the heart.

And yes I did!

But sh!t something else happened and Tyson’s blo0d stained my clothes.

Chapter 2

I shoved him so hard that I struck his vital point and his blo0d fell on me. He was bigger, stronger that he barely moved — but the shock on his face was worth it.

He grabbed my wrist and I grabbed his collar and then we were both moving at a crazy speed, a graceless furious tangle of elbows and curses and twenty-five years of everything we’d never said out loud.

He got his ἅrm around my shoulders and slammed me back against the wall. I drove my knee up and caught his thigh and he swore viciously in the old tongue. I clawed for his hair — he caught my wrists — I headbutted his chin with enough force that he actually staggered.

We stood there panting in the torchlight. His lip was bleeding. My cheek was already swelling but neither of us let go.

“I hἅte you,” I told him. My voice cracked on the last word and I hἅted myself for it.

Something moved across his face.

Things might have gone the other way around of me trying to scurry in his favour, like I said he was one of the four male leads the Moon Goddess had chosen for me.

Claire said that if I could raise his familial love value to one hundred percent where he would want to d!e to protect me, then I would succeed. But then Rose, that bἅstard had stolen his heart.

I had no idea how Rose had gotten so deep into his head and twisted him that hard that he fell for her. And when she lied to him that I’d hired a rogue werewolf to beat her, assault her and rἅpe her, Tyson believed her without hesitation. From that day on, he hἅted me.

Tyson slowly walked in front of me, his eyes glowing deep red now in the dark night.

The moon was full now and his anger had snapped, so had his beastly strength. His body was darkening and expanding, slightly becoming hairy.

I knew immediately it was trouble. I raised my head up and tapped into the werewolf side of me and my eyes glowed golden yellow, those were the eyes of a Hybrid.

GROWL!!!!

My face changed and I hoped it would at least stop Tyson from what he was planning but it did not.

Tyson slammed his hand and grabbed my throat so tight that I lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds.

He dragged me and fell on fours running into the woods like an ἅnimἅl as my body kept on smashing the ground and dirt as we ran to a nearby riverbank.

Then he raised me up and hurled me towards a huge tree as I smashed my back and spat out a mouth full of blo0d.

“If you’re going to d!e, don’t do it on our territory. I don’t want anyone else seeing an abomination d!e and we get cursed for it.”

“So I picked out a good spot for you. D!e here. Go on, hurry up!” He tossed the white oak stake on the ground so close to me.

My head was ringing from the attack I had just borne but I was quick to recover unlike him my injuries were healing fast.

“You see..perks of being a Hybrid.” That annoying voice of the Moon Goddess rang in my head again and I bit down my teeth hard and squeezed my fist.

Chapter 1

After my older brother returned from his previous life and abandoned me to die beneath a bridge, I found myself with a strange new family.

My dad was fifteen. He'd steal milk and clumsily feed it to me.

My mom was twelve. She'd steal yarn to knit the clothes that kept me warm through the winter.

My godfather was ten. He'd steal toys just

I was still in the kitchen preparing tomorrow's breakfast when I heard the commotion from the main hall. The cream hadn't been whipped yet when my mother rushed in, grabbing my hands so tightly they hurt.
"Amber didn't mean it! She's terrified, crying her eyes out," she said, tears streaming down her face.
"Violet, you're Amber's big sister. You need to take her punishment at the Blackwood estate."
The bowl of cream slipped from my hands, splattering across our expensive kitchen tiles.
I noticed the housekeepers exchanging glances, barely hiding their smirks. Drama in the Parker household was better than anything on Netflix, and I was always the punching bag.
Everyone in Boston's high society knew the Blackwoods were a recently returned business powerhouse with connections to Wall Street and Washington. Amber had actually pushed Olivia Blackwood—their only daughter—down a three-story staircase in front of dozens of witnesses at the charity gala. If Amber were taken to the Blackwood mansion for punishment, she'd be lucky to make it out alive.
My twin brother Ethan stormed into the kitchen looking panicked.
He was literally the person I shared the closest blood relation with—identical twins except for gender—yet the words coming out of his mouth couldn't have been more heartless:
"It's true. The Blackwoods are savage. Dad and I practically got on our knees begging them, but they wouldn't budge. They only gave us five days to decide. If Amber goes there..." He lowered his voice dramatically. "God knows what they'll do to her—she'd break within hours!"
The mixing bowl I was clutching crashed to the floor, porcelain shards scattering everywhere.
So Amber couldn't handle it, but somehow I was supposed to? If the Blackwoods discovered they'd been sent a substitute, they might actually kill me in their rage.
Did my mother and brother not care about that at all?
I was their flesh and blood, for God's sake!
I clearly remembered how my mother used to hold me when I was little, stroking my dark hair: "Mommy loves Violet the most. You're Mommy's precious baby forever."
That was until her second pregnancy ended in tragedy.
The stillbirth shattered something in my mother.
Her personality changed completely. She no longer smiled at me but instead spent days clutching the tiny pink clothes she had prepared for the baby, weeping uncontrollably.
Later, my father brought home a little blonde girl from Hope Children's Center.
Everyone commented how this little girl looked remarkably like what their lost baby might have become.
My mother latched onto this idea desperately.
And so, Amber Sullivan officially became the Parker family's adopted daughter.
My mother treated Amber like a priceless treasure—spoiling her, indulging her every whim, acting like she might break if someone looked at her wrong.
Amber successfully "healed" my mother's fragile mental state but also systematically stole all the love and attention that once belonged to me.
Originally, I accepted this. As long as my mother recovered, that was what mattered most.
But one day after school when I was ten, Amber suddenly disappeared.
The family sent out search parties. My mother was hysterical. Around eight that evening, Amber finally returned home, limping dramatically with tear-stained cheeks.
The moment she crossed the threshold, she threw herself into my mother's arms, sobbing: "Did I do something wrong, Mommy?"
"Why did Violet leave me all alone in the woods behind the school?"
"I was so scared! I thought no one would find me!"
That was when I realized those malicious, calculating looks Amber had been giving me weren't my imagination after all.
Before I could defend myself, my mother slapped me so hard that my head snapped sideways, my ear slamming into the corner of the marble countertop.
Blood immediately gushed down my neck while my father shouted abuse at me. My mother simply cradled Amber, not even checking if I was seriously hurt.
It was Maria, one of the housekeepers, who took pity on me and drove me to Mass General Hospital, but we missed the critical treatment window. My right ear lost its hearing permanently.
My father sent me to live with distant relatives in rural Vermont the very next day.
Before I left, only Ethan held my hand: "Don't worry, Vi. In a few months, I'll convince Mom and Dad to bring you home."
At first, Ethan did call me every week.
But eventually, the calls came once a month, then once every six months. Our conversations mostly revolved around Amber:
"Amber just won first place in her art show at Phillips Academy!"
"If only you were as gifted as Amber."
"Amber says she's forgiven you, but I think you still need to work on yourself."
And so, I was exiled in Vermont for ten years, until I was finally summoned back to Boston at twenty.
I believed my parents must still love me somewhere deep down.
For that desperate hope of family connection, I kept my head down, trying different ways to please them, cooking their favorite foods, doing whatever they asked, hoping for the smallest scraps of affection in return.
But only now did I finally understand—no matter how hard I tried, people who didn't love me would never love me.
And if that was the case, I was done with all of them.

Chapter 2

Seeing that I hadn't responded, Ethan grew irritated:
"What are you, mute now? Hello?"
"It's just taking Amber's punishment, not dying. What's there to think about?"
"You haven't done anything for Mom in years, and now you won't even listen to her?"
Ethan was about to grab me when a housekeeper burst into the kitchen:
"Miss Amber is threatening to jump from her window!"
My mother's face went chalk-white. She dropped everything and ran out.
Ethan still maintained some composure, but his expression was dark:
"If anything happens to Amber, I swear to God, it's on you!"
He seized my wrist and dragged me along.
By the time we reached Amber's room, my wrist was red and bruised from his grip.
I was about to rub it when I spotted a familiar face—Drake Sullivan, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé.
The Sullivan and Parker families had been friends for generations. Our engagement had been arranged since we were kids.
Drake and I had grown up together.
During those terrible years in Vermont, Drake was the only one who regularly visited and took care of me. Without him, I might not have survived.
He always told me:
"You're the most important person in my life, Vi. No one compares to you."
"Your parents dumping you in this place, your brother not even visiting—they'll regret treating you like this one day!"
"Don't be sad, Violet. When you marry me, I'll make you the happiest princess in the world!"
By then, I'd already developed a deep fear that Amber would eventually steal everyone I loved. I clung to Drake like a lifeline:
"Promise me you'll never even meet Amber!"
Drake had stroked my hair affectionately:
"I promise. You're the only one I see."
"This Amber girl couldn't compare to your little finger!"
I'd finally smiled then.
I thought at least one person would always choose me.
But all that vanished after I returned to the Parker house.
Drake met Amber.
Within six months, Amber had successfully stolen the person I treasured most.
Drake even brought up postponing our engagement:
"Amber's become pretty dependent on me. If I marry you now, I'm worried she won't handle it well."
My memories were interrupted by my mother's desperate cries:
"Amber, come down! Let's talk about this! What are you doing by the window? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Amber was sitting on the second-floor windowsill. Her feet hadn't even crossed the railing, but her eyes were swollen like walnuts:
"Didn't you hear what the Blackwoods said? They want to push me down a staircase just like what happened to Olivia!"
"If I go to their mansion, they'll torture me to death! I'd rather die here at home—at least it won't be as painful."
Ethan was so angry he slapped me across the face:
"This is all your fault! If you'd just agreed to take Amber's punishment, would she be thinking about killing herself?"
"She's your sister! How can you be so cruel? Do you want her to die?"
That slap held nothing back. A red handprint instantly appeared on my cheek. My mother just glared at me hatefully, her eyes full of disappointment:
"If anything happens to Amber, I won't want to live either."
"Violet, if you still refuse to take Amber's punishment at the Blackwood estate, then don't call yourself a Parker anymore, and don't consider me your mother!"
If Ethan's words were angry shouts, my mother's were naked threats.
Anger, fear, despair, grief... countless emotions mixed inside me. I couldn't stop my body from trembling, feeling like my heart was being stomped on.
That's when Drake stepped forward.

After her third miscarriage, Audrey Kane finally became the perfect wife her husband had always wanted.

She learned to stop pouring all her attention into Weston Sterling, and she learned to swallow those suffocating negative emotions on her own.

She even learned—to stop loving Weston Sterling.

...

On New Year's Eve, a cold wave swept across Connecticut. Not a single car was available on any rideshare app.

Audrey could only wrap her worn wool coat tighter around herself, endure the sharp, stabbing pain in her lower abdomen, and walk step by step back to the estate in Greenwich.

The heating inside the villa was set like midsummer. Laughter and cheerful voices pierced straight through the closed front door and into her eardrums.

It was only then that Audrey vaguely remembered—her husband Weston couldn't bear the thought of Camille Harrington and her son Leo spending the holiday alone, so he had specially brought them to their home to celebrate New Year's together.

That was why Weston hadn't gone with her to the hospital.

In the past, this kind of neglect would have shattered her completely—she would have screamed, swept the crystal vase off the coffee table, even lunged at Camille to tear at her carefully styled blonde hair.

But now, she couldn't even be bothered to lift her eyelids.

The door handle turned, and the villa door opened from the inside.

Weston stepped out carrying a bag of trash filled with paint Leo had spilled.

"Audrey." Weston shifted to block her view, his tone full of wariness. "Camille and Leo are guests. Don't make a scene. Don't embarrass me."

Through the crack in the door behind him, the scene inside the villa was on full display.

Camille was wearing Audrey's La Perla silk robe, draped elegantly across the sofa while flipping through the latest issue of The New Yorker.

Her son Leo was tossing Armani throw pillows all over the floor. Expensive goose down drifted out from the split seams, floating everywhere.

The scene looked incredibly warm and cozy, which only made Audrey, standing in the cold wind outside the door, look like an uninvited intruder.

Audrey didn't respond. She stepped around Weston's side and walked straight toward the staircase leading to the second floor, as if passing through invisible air.

Her face held nothing but calm. Complete, utter calm.

Weston suddenly grabbed her ice-cold wrist.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice carried a tension even he hadn't noticed.

Before bringing Camille and her son into the house, he had rehearsed in his mind countless times all the possible ways Audrey might explode—

Crying, clawing, screaming hysterically at Camille.

He had even adjusted his stance, subtly shielding Camille behind him, ready to forcibly restrain Audrey the moment such a scene broke out.

In his long-held perception, Audrey was always that woman who made mountains out of molehills, who could never act with class. The only way she knew to assert her pitiful possessiveness was through the ugliest displays.

But this deathly silence, this utter indifference, instead ignited a nameless fire deep inside him.

How could she not make a scene?

What gave her the right not to make a scene?

Before Audrey could speak, Leo ran over and tugged at Weston's arm. He tilted his round little face up and blinked rapidly. "Dad, Mom told you to take out the trash. Why are you still standing here?"

That single word "Dad" made Weston freeze for an instant.

Almost by instinct, he shot a quick glance at Audrey.

But Audrey didn't even lift her eyelids. Those eyes that had once brimmed with love and grievance now held nothing but complete, barren calm.

"The kid just says things. Audrey, it's not what you think."

After saying this, he braced himself, subconsciously waiting for her hysterical outburst.

But nothing happened.

Audrey simply, quietly, inch by inch, pulled her ice-cold wrist out of his grip.

She turned around, walked toward the master bedroom on the second floor, and gently closed the door behind her.

That closed door landed on Weston's face like a silent but forceful slap.

He took a deep breath, bounded up the stairs in three steps, and shoved the bedroom door open.

He rubbed his brow in irritation, trying to recapture that familiar feeling of control. His tone was impatient. "If you mind so much, I'll tell Camille to move out tomorrow."

This was already the biggest concession he could make.

"I don't mind." Audrey sat pale-faced on the edge of the bed. Her tone was as steady as discussing whether it would snow tomorrow. "Just like you said before—if I hadn't married you back then, Camille wouldn't have been forced to marry that bastard to save the Harrington family. Everything you're doing now is just making it up to her and her son."

Her gaze drifted past him and settled on the empty space behind. "I understand."

These were the very words Weston had used, cold and sharp, to scold Audrey during her breakdowns in the past.

But somehow, when those identical words came out of Audrey's mouth, they tasted completely different.

Weston's gaze turned cold for a second. His temples throbbed.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Audrey wasn't supposed to say things like this.

At the very least, not in this tone.

This calm, even tone.

Audrey had become sensible. She had become exactly what he had demanded her to be countless times before. Yet Weston found himself profoundly unsettled.

The sharp sound of a glass shattering against the marble floor came from downstairs.

The Sterling estate's butler soon knocked on the bedroom door. "Mr. Sterling, Miss Harrington is injured. Would you like to come down and take a look?"

Weston turned to leave almost instantly.

But his phone buzzed the moment he took his first step. He glanced at the message on the screen and stopped dead in his tracks.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He waved at the butler with dark, unreadable eyes. "Go help her with the wound first. I'll come down later."

Then he turned back. A hint of concern flickered in his eyes. "You had a D&C today? Why didn't you tell me?"

Audrey had called him, but Weston's phone had been on another call the entire time.

But now, none of that mattered.

"A minor procedure. I didn't want to trouble you." She paused before speaking again. "After all, so many things are more important than I am."

Weston was silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

His grip was impossibly strong. Audrey couldn't help but frown.

"Audrey, why aren't you angry?"

An indescribable irritation surged through Weston's chest—something was slipping out of his control.

A flicker of genuine confusion passed through Audrey's eyes. "You used to always complain that I made scenes, that I wasn't poised enough. Now I've stopped. So what's your problem?"

The Audrey before him now was quiet, restrained, and composed.

Exactly as he had once demanded.

Yet as Weston stared at the face in front of him, his heart hammered wildly for no reason.

Everything felt wrong.

Even though she had become exactly what he'd always wanted, everything still felt wrong.

He walked up to her and lowered his voice. "Audrey, stop this. Let's make a fresh start this new year, okay?"

"Okay."

Audrey nodded and blinked quickly.

Boom—

Outside the window, the Times Square New Year's fireworks display erupted across the television screen, casting flickering light and shadow throughout the room.

A new year, a new beginning, then.

That docile, compliant attitude stabbed at Weston's frayed nerves once again.

He was about to say something else when the bedroom door burst open. Leo rushed in, grabbed Weston's hand, and wailed. "Dad! Mom's hurt! There's so much blood! Come quick!"

The moment those words left his mouth, Weston instinctively whipped his head around to look at Audrey.

But the grievance and tears he had anticipated were nowhere to be seen on her face.

She just blinked slowly. Her tone was as bland as a glass of lukewarm water. "Miss Harrington is hurt. Go on, go see her."

Those calm eyes observed everything like an audience member in a theater box watching a play that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Weston stood frozen.

But Leo's crying was too violent. Weston had no choice. He bent down, scooped Leo up, and strode toward the door.

At the bedroom doorway, he whipped his head back and said in a low voice, "Audrey, get some sleep first. I'll come find you later."

But until the sun rose fully the next morning, Weston never showed up again.

I dressed up in my most glamorous clothes, waiting for Kieran, the most notorious mob boss on the East Coast, to celebrate our wedding anniversary. However, I saw a photo of him with another woman, his first love, and even a five-year-old boy. It suddenly dawned on me that they had broken up five years ago. So I asked Kieran for a divorce and decided to leave, but he held me tightly, refusing to let go.

Chapter 1

Aurora's POV

The sexy lingerie clung to my skin; the mirror reflected my exposed, almost bursting breasts.

I shifted on the bed, adjusting the lingerie I'd spent three hours picking out at the boutique downtown.

The saleswoman had called it "a wearable love potion" and "battle armor that keeps a man in bed."

I'd laughed, swiping the black card without hesitation.

Enzo and I just needed a spark to repair the distance that had crept between us these past few months.

Enzo ran a powerful crime family and was so busy I almost never saw him. The last time I'd slept with him was three months ago.

The candles flickered on the nightstand. I'd cooked his favorite meal — bistecca alla fiorentina, seared rare with rosemary, the way his mother used to make it in the old country before she passed.

There was a bottle of Barolo from his family's private cellar breathing on the table, and tucked in the drawer beside me was a collection of toys I'd never had the courage to buy before.

Over these five years, as his Donna, I had developed a keen intuition.

A vague sense of unease filled my heart, but I still decided to trust him.

He'll be home soon, I told myself.

He promised.

But eight o'clock came and went. Nine. Ten.

I checked my phone again.

No messages. No calls.

Just the same message I'd sent hours ago, still showing as "read" with no reply.

Happy anniversary, Enzo. I have a surprise for you. Come home early?

The steak had gone cold. The candles had burned down to stubs.

I was feeling extremely anxious inside.

To relieve this negative mood, I decided to look for a distraction. I opened Instagram and typed his name into the search bar.

His account was set to private.

Enzo valued his image as Don of the Crimson family, and he controlled every aspect of his public presence the way he controlled his territory.

But tonight, someone had tagged him in a post.

u/Sophielove: The most magical birthday! Thank you for making my son's dreams come true.

My thumb hovered over the screen. Don't click it. Don't—

I clicked.

The first photo showed a well-lit amusement park, the kind of place that gets rented out entirely, gates closed to the public, security in dark suits standing at every entrance.

The second showed fireworks exploding over a carousel. And the third—

My breath stopped.

Enzo stood in a kitchen, flour dusted across his black shirt, the camera focused on his face, revealing a smile, his deep eyes curving into a gentle arc, as a little boy with dark curls held up a mixing bowl.

I'd never seen Enzo like this before. Warm, peaceful, even adorable.

I'd seen him ruthlessly decisive amidst gunfire, but I'd never seen him with such a warm smile.

I struggled to shift my gaze. A woman stood beside them, her hand resting on Enzo's arm with the easy familiarity of someone who had never been told the rules.

They were making a birthday cake together, like a family.

The caption read: My two favorite boys. Five years old and already ruling the world.

Five years old.

We'd been married for five.

My phone slipped from my fingers, clattering against the hardwood floor.

The sound echoed through the empty bedroom, through the empty house I'd spent years turning into a home.

No. No, this couldn't be right.

Enzo was difficult, yes. Distant, often. Cold in the way men who order executions before breakfast learn to be.

But he wasn't a cheater. He'd made me one vow at that altar, in front of both our families, in front of every capo on the East Coast.

He wasn't the kind of man who would—

Call him, my instinct urged. There has to be an explanation.

I picked up my phone with trembling hands and dialed his number.

"Hello?"

The voice that answered wasn't his.

It was soft, feminine, and a little breathless, like she'd been laughing.

"Hello?" she said again. "Enzo, I think someone's calling you—oh, he just stepped out with Ethan. They're doing the sparklers. Can I take a message?"

In the background, I heard a child's voice. "Daddy, look! Look what I can do!"

Daddy. I froze.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

I couldn't speak. The call ended. I didn't know if I hung up or if she did.

It didn't matter.

I walked downstairs like a ghost.

The dining room looked absurd: the crystal glasses, the cloth napkins folded into swans, the flowers I'd arranged just so.

I picked up the platter of steak and dumped it into the trash. Everything else followed.

Then I stood in the middle of the living room and looked at what I'd built.

The curtains were sage green, because Enzo once mentioned his childhood home in the old country had green curtains.

The ferns by the window were his favorite, even though I had to mist them twice daily to keep them alive in this climate.

The walls held framed oil paintings of the old family estate at dusk.

These were anniversary gifts I'd commissioned from artists he admired, back when I still believed anniversaries meant something to him.

Our wedding photo hung above the fireplace.

Enzo in his tailored black suit, me in white silk, our hands clasped on the cathedral steps as both families and their guests celebrated the union of two Mafia dynasties.

He wasn't smiling in the picture. Enzo rarely smiled. But his eyes were soft, focused entirely on me.

I'd stared at that photo a thousand times, searching for proof that our arrangement had become something real. That he loved me.

Now it just looked like evidence of my own stupidity.

I didn't know how long I sat in the dark bedroom, tears flowing and drying up again and again, until I heard the front door open, and a second later, he walked into the bedroom.

He was still in his business suit, though the jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the family tattoo on his wrist.

His broad shoulders filled out his shirt, the holster strap cutting across his chest.

His hair was loosely and carelessly styled, and under the light, shadows fell across his sharply defined face.

As he walked in, he was as handsome as I remembered. Maybe even more. I caught the faintest trace of sugar and smoke clinging to his skin from birthday cake and fireworks.

"You're still up," he said, loosening his tie. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"It's our anniversary."

He stopped short, like he'd just remembered. "I'm sorry, business ran late. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. We can go to that restaurant you like."

A casual apology. After standing me up. As if I were an associate he'd kept waiting, not his wife.

He started toward the bathroom, then stopped again. He turned, and his eyes zeroed in on my body, noticing the lingerie.

His eyes were fixed on me, like a hunter fixing on moving prey. Intense desire swirled in his pupils.

"Is this my surprise?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching for my waist.

His movements were steady and powerful, allowing no room for refusal.

He kissed down my neck and a little moan escaped me before he brought his lips down on mine.

My brain flashed with images of him with his first love. Her hand on his arm. Flour on his shirt.

I flinched away.

Enzo froze. In five years of marriage, I'd never pulled away from him. Never rejected his touch. No one in this city rejected Enzo Thawthorne.

His eyes revealed displeasure. "What's wrong with you?"

"Where were you tonight?"

"I told you. Business."

"You weren't handling business."

His expression shuttered closed. This was the Don's face, It was the cold mask he wore when he killed, revealing no emotion. "You're being paranoid."

"I tried to call you, but some woman picked up—" My throat closed around the word.

"You're overreacting." His voice turned cold, the voice that made grown men in his organization go pale. "Now come to bed and stop making this into something it isn't."

"I'm not—"

His phone rang. He answered without hesitation. Without even glancing at me.

"Sophie? Slow down. What happened?"

I watched his face transform. The coldness that belonged to the Don was replaced by an unusual tenderness.

In five years of marriage, I had never received such favor from him.

"It's okay," he murmured into the phone. "I'll be right there. Just stay calm. You're safe, no one touches you while you're under my protection."

He hung up and grabbed his jacket from the chair, checking the gun at his side out of pure habit.

"Enzo—"

"Go to sleep," he said without looking at me. "We'll talk tomorrow."

The door slammed behind him. A moment later, the engine of the Maybach roared out of the driveway.

He left. On our anniversary. For his first love.

The idea crushed me. My stomach twisted and I rushed into the bathroom. Bile surged up my throat, and I knelt over the toilet, choking as I vomited up what little I'd eaten today.

My eyes watered, my forehead pressed against the porcelain as the nausea clawed through me again.

Why am I throwing up?

Could I be…?

No. Impossible.

We'd used contraceptives last time. Besides, this felt like normal nausea from not eating… right?

Chapter 2

Aurora's POV

I didn't sleep a wink all night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined Enzo and that woman lying in bed.

But I could only lie there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of his car pulling into the driveway.

However, the car never did.

At three in the morning, I had checked my phone forty-seven times, finally accepting what my intuition had been telling me for hours.

He wasn't coming back.

In five years of marriage, Enzo had never left me for a single night.

Not once. Even in the fiercest turf wars, even after late-night negotiations with the other family, even when he had a three-hour drive home, he always came back.

He would crawl into bed, smelling of coffee and exhaustion, hold me in his arms, and fall asleep with his face buried in my hair.

I used to think there must be a reason.

Now I understood. What brought him home wasn't love, but responsibility. It was this sense of responsibility that made him marry me in the first place. The Don kept his promise.

But Sophie came back, and duty was far from enough to overcome the feelings she evoked in him.

I buried my face in the pillow and screamed until my voice was hoarse.

The phone rang.

I grabbed it, thinking he might be calling to explain, to apologize, to tell me it was all a misunderstanding.

It was my father.

"Aurora," his voice was hoarse. "It's your mother. She had a heart attack. We're at St. Michael's Hospital."

The world seemed to stand still.

"I'm coming right away."

I immediately got up and ran. I ran all the way down the hospital corridor before stopping.

Three days before my mating ceremony with Alpha Cole Hagen, his childhood friend Alice Vanderbilt barged into our home at dawn. She claimed they were going on one last "bachelor trip" together.

She shot me an innocent look. "Bailey, it's a bachelor trip after all. It wouldn't be right to bring you along. You're not mad, are you?"

Cole shrugged. "It's fine. She'll understand."

"And the ceremony?" I asked.

"It's three days away, Bailey. I'll make it back."

Watching them leave with their luggage, I felt a sudden wave of boredom.

I was done with Cole taking my tolerance for granted.

I erased every trace of my existence from the house, blocked his number, and walked away for good.

…

Every waking hour was consumed by the endless tasks for the upcoming mating ceremony.

Since Cole ruled the Nightglow Pack, the ritual had to be grand and solemn.

While he dismissed the preparations as chores for the help, I insisted on handling everything.

It was my ceremony too, and I needed to prove to everyone that I was worthy of the Luna title.

But three days before the big day, the peace of our bedroom was shattered at dawn.

The door swung open, and my inner wolf went into a full combat alert, growling at the intruder.

Cole sat up slowly. As an Alpha, his senses were sharper than mine, yet he remained unfazed. "Relax, it's just Alice."

"No fun at all," Alice said, leaning against the frame with a staged sigh. "I still can't sneak up on you, Cole. Some things never change."

Cole only responded with a doting smile.

Alice glanced at my defensive stance and feigned shock. "Oh, Bailey, are you okay? Did I scare you? I'm so sorry—Cole and I have always played around like this."

There wasn't a hint of regret in her eyes.

Cole turned to me as well. "Chill, Bailey. She's always been this way."

It took a moment for my wolf to finally settle down.

I glared at Alice, demanding to know why she was barging into our bedroom in the middle of the night.

"To take Cole on his bachelor trip, of course!" Alice chirped.

Then, her tone shifted. "But... a bachelor trip isn't for mates. You won't mind, will you, Bailey?"

I ignored her and waited for Cole's response.

"A bachelor trip? Sounds amazing! I'll go pack right now," Cole said, his eyes lighting up.

I looked up at him. "And what about our ceremony?"

"It's no big deal. We still have three days. What's the rush? I'll definitely be back the day before."

My heart sank.

A 'no big deal'? So that's all our mating ceremony was to him—just a trivial matter.

"Cole Hagen! Tell me to my face. Are you really leaving right now for this bullsh*t trip?"

He frowned. "This is my last taste of freedom, Bailey. I won't get another chance after this."

I opened my mouth to ask if the bond was a cage to him, but Alice cut me off.

"Hurry up, Cole! Let's get moving. Time waits for no one."

Cole ignored me, threw on his clothes, grabbed a bag, and prepared to head out with her.

"Wait for me at home. I'll be there for the ceremony," Cole said.

"It's just a damn ritual; there's no need to handle everything yourself. Take a break these next few days."

The door closed, cutting me off from the world as their laughter and voices drifted back from the hallway.

"Cole, Bailey looks pissed. Maybe you should go back."

"Leave her be. That's just who she is. I'm going to make the most of this trip!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Surveying the emptiness, a crushing weariness washed over me.

For as long as I'd been with Cole, Alice had used their history as a hall pass to invade our private life.

And Cole never failed to side with her, insisting they were just "best friends" and that I was overreacting.

Now, he had the nerve to ditch our ceremony for a pathetic bachelor trip.

I was sick of it.

A cold resolve settled in my heart. I would use these few days to make my exit and leave this godforsaken place behind.

My inner wolf snarled with fury.

"Have a blast on your trip, Cole. By the time you get back, you'll be left with absolutely nothing!"

Introduction

When I caught my fiancé in my sister Piper's bed on the eve of our double wedding, I wasn't angry. I just poured champagne and toasted their happiness.

Because I'd survived this nightmare once before.

In our past life, we married on the exact same day. I chose a broke college student. She bagged a billionaire and rubbed it in my face for months.

Then, fate flipped the script.

My husband became a powerful politician-the man every woman drooled over. Her billionaire? He div...

Chapter 1 

The night before Julian Croft and I were supposed to get our marriage license, our friends threw a party 

Someone suggested a room-keycard game. 

“The rules were simple: whoever’s key you drew, you spent the night with.” 

My heart sank before I even knew why. 

Julian leaned in, brushed his lips against my ear, and smiled like he’d already won. 

“Relax,” he murmured. “I had someone fix the draw.” 

“I’m going to pull your card. Guaranteed.” 

So I said okay. 

But when Julian turned over his keycard… 

It had Chloe Thorne’s name on it. My best friend. 

The room exploded. 

Someone whistled, and cheers broke out. 

“A deal’s a deal. You’re not gonna back out, are you, Hazel?” 

Chloe’s cheeks went pink, and she reached for my hand. 

“Hazel, don’t read into it.” 

“It’s one night. I’ll just keep him out of trouble for you.” 

“I’m your best friend. You know you can trust me.” 

Julian turned to me with a frown. 

“It’s just a game. Don’t make it weird.” 

They both smelled like the same cologne. I didn’t know when that had started. 

I smiled. 

“Alright.” 

“Then I’ll take my turn.” 

Chapter 1 

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I reached for the last keycard on the table like it didn’t matter. 

I turned it over, and the whole room went dead silent. 

Nathaniel Reed. 

The one person Julian hated most. 

I held the keycard up between two fingers and smiled at Julian. 

“It’s just a game.” 

“You’re not gonna back out, are you?” 

Julian’s expression darkened instantly. 

He reached for the keycard. 

“Hazel, stop making a scene.” 

I pulled it out of reach and smiled. 

“Isn’t it just a game?” 

Someone jumped in, trying to play peacemaker. 

“Hazel, come on. This is different.” 

“Chloe’s your best friend. What do you think is gonna happen?” 

Someone else chimed in. 

“Exactly. She’s doing you a favor, watching your man. What’s the problem?” 

“God, Hazel, you’re so possessive.” 

Chloe stood beside Julian, her eyes already rimmed red. 

“Hazel, let’s just forget the whole thing.” 

“I don’t want to come between you two. Not the night before your wedding.” 

She held the keycard out as she said it. 

But her grip was tight. She didn’t actually let go. 

Chapter 1 

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Julian caught her wrist and stopped her. 

Then he looked at me, voice flat. 

“There’s nothing going on between me and Chloe.” 

“If we back out now, it just looks like we have something to hide.” 

“We’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, so why act like we do?” 

Chloe bit her lip, her voice dropping into something that was supposed to sound like concern. 

“Hazel, I get it. I know this bothers you.” 

“But if Julian and I tiptoe around this, people will only gossip.” 

“We share a room, nothing happens. That proves there’s nothing going on.” 

She dropped her gaze. 

“I’m your best friend.” 

“Don’t you even trust me?” 

I looked at the keycard still locked in her fist. A bitter laugh crawled up my throat. 

Someone nearby let out a loud, sympathetic sigh. 

“Chloe, you’re way too nice for your own good.” 

“You’re literally doing Hazel a favor and she’s making you look like the bad guy.” 

“Hazel, she’s already bending over backward here. What more do you want?” 

Julian’s jaw tightened, as if the dogpile bothered him. 

But he didn’t say a word to stop them. 

He just turned to Chloe and said, quietly, “Don’t cry. Nobody’s blaming you.” 

Chloe’s voice went even softer. 

“Don’t say that about Hazel.” 

“It hasn’t been easy for her either, you know, marrying into Julian’s world.” 

“The Sterlings have been through a difficult time. No wonder she’s feeling pressured.” 

Chapter 1 

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خوبصورت لڑکیوں کے ساتھ کھیل کھیلنا 

… 

Chapter 1 

The room went quiet for a beat. 

Then someone let out a knowing laugh. 

“That’s true.” 

“The Sterlings have faced challenges for years. No wonder she’s so desperate to keep him.” 

“No wonder she’s so paranoid.” 

Every drop of color drained from my face. 

When my family’s business went under, Julian was the one who proposed. 

He told me, “Hazel, I’ve got you. No one’s going to look down on you ever again.” 

But now… 

His friends were tearing me down right in front of him. 

And Julian just did nothing. 

And just like that, it clicked. 

His friends weren’t the ones looking down on me. 

Julian was. 

Chapter 1

Cassandra's POV

By the time the fervor in the bedroom finally subsided, a full two hours had passed.

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, and I lay sprawled across that massive antique four-poster bed for a solid five minutes before I could even muster the strength to move.

Taking a deep breath, I dragged myself up on trembling legs and went to retrieve my silk nightgown scattered across the Damascene carpet.

Alexander had been particularly rough today. God, my head was still spinning.

Just half an hour ago, he had me pinned down hard against the velvet mattress, those cold, powerful arms locked around my waist like iron shackles. His thrusts were brutal and deep, each one hitting that sensitive spot with precision, making my entire body shudder. The contrast between his cold temperature and my burning skin was maddening, and when that overwhelming pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave, his scorching tongue traced my neck before he couldn't hold back any longer—those lethal fangs emerged and pierced through my fragile skin.

The dizzying sensation of blood loss mingled with the peak of sensory stimulation left me capable of nothing but broken whimpers, completely undone beneath him.

Now, the inside of my thighs ached terribly, and on the side of my neck—where two shallow, freshly healed bite marks remained—there was still a dull, throbbing pain.

This was the price I paid for being his exclusive blood bag and wife.

I fumbled with the lace ties of my nightgown several times, unable to get them fastened, my fingers still trembling uncontrollably.

Soon, the bathroom door swung open, and Alexander emerged.

He was tall and imposing, with a slender yet commanding build, his features so chiseled they could have been carved by Michelangelo himself. As a creature of the night, his skin carried that sickly yet mesmerizing pallor unique to his kind.

Fresh from his shower, a pure white towel hung loosely around his waist, and droplets of water traced down his marble-hard, defined abs before disappearing beneath the towel's edge.

When he noticed me still standing naked by the bed, his deep ocean-blue eyes narrowed slightly, and his sharp brows furrowed just a fraction.

I didn't look at him again, just kept my head down, continuing my battle with that damned lace tie.

"Serena is being released from the sanatorium tomorrow."

He walked past me, bringing with him a cold, oppressive wave of cedarwood scent, and spoke suddenly. "You'll go to the St. Cecilia Estate to pick her up. I've already promised your mother that she can stay at our manor for a while, until her bloodlust is completely stabilized."

My hands froze mid-motion.

I turned my head, staring at the man before me in disbelief.

This was my husband of two years—Alexander, the most powerful vampire lord of New York's Night Empire, and the CEO of Wall Street's most influential investment conglomerate.

And Serena, the woman he mentioned, was my half-sister.

When I was five, I got lost in Central Park in Manhattan. While my biological mother searched frantically for me for three days and nights, my stepfather took the opportunity to bring home a golden-haired, blue-eyed little girl who looked like a perfect porcelain doll—Serena. She replaced me, becoming the family's most beloved little princess. Even when the police found me three years later, I had already become a transparent, unnecessary presence in that house.

More ironically, when Serena turned eighteen, she was accidentally bitten by a rogue vampire. To save her life, Alexander personally gave her the Embrace. From that moment on, she became one of the blood clan, while I remained an ordinary human—mortal, aging, destined to die.

"You want her to live here?" I finally found my voice, though my throat felt dry. "Alexander, this is our home. And... you know she's never liked me."

Alexander walked to the massive walk-in closet and casually selected a black silk shirt to put on. His movements were elegant and unhurried, and he didn't even turn around.

"Cassandra, don't be so petty," his voice was low, magnetic, yet cold as ice. "Serena has just survived the agitation of her transformation period. She's extremely vulnerable right now and needs a safe sanctuary. Besides, my blood runs through her veins—I must take responsibility for her."

I must take responsibility for her.

Those words cut through my heart like a rusty, dull blade.

What about me? I'm your legitimate wife. Every night you ravage me in bed, feed on my blood, mark me with that distinctive cold cedarwood scent of yours.

Don't you need to take responsibility for me?

But I didn't voice these thoughts. I knew that in this marriage, I had never had the right to negotiate terms from the very beginning.

Two years ago, when my mother's company faced bankruptcy, Alexander stepped in with capital—on the condition that I marry him. Because my blood carried a rare sweet factor that could soothe his violent nature as an ancient vampire.

"I understand," I lowered my eyes, smoothing out my nightgown to cover the purple-blue marks of passion on my body. "I'll pick her up tomorrow."

Alexander seemed satisfied with my compliance. He turned and walked toward me, his towering frame completely enveloping mine. He reached out with his long, cold fingers, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

"Good girl," he murmured in a low voice, his gaze flashing with a hint of crimson as it lingered on the bite mark on my neck. He leaned down, his cold lips brushing softly against that wound, sending an involuntary shiver through my body.

"Your taste was exquisite tonight, Cassandra. Go rest now."

With that, he released me and walked out of the bedroom. The heavy carved wooden door closed behind him with a dull thud.

Once again, I was alone in the room. The air still carried the scent of our recent intimacy, mixed with the cold aura he left behind.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed out at the glittering neon lights of New York City.

I am Cassandra, a human girl with a bright smile and warm amber eyes. My friends all say I have a cheerful personality, like California sunshine.

But no one knows that within this opulent Gothic manor, I live like a pet trapped in a gilded cage.

Chapter 1

After losing a round of Truth or Dare, I accepted the penalty without complaint and texted my boyfriend a single, reckless lie: I was pregnant.

He replied instantly: [Whose is it?]

Tessa Reed, who had been enjoying the spectacle beside me, stared so hard her eyes nearly popped. “Wait.You two have dated this long and still haven’t taken things further?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but a stream of multicolored viewer comments suddenly materialized in the air directly before my eyes.

[I’m dying. The supporting girl had been dating the male lead for over six months, and they had only become truly close last month.]

[So what? She doesn’t know he’s a merman. Humans and merfolk are different, so their future together was never simple.]

[Merfolk value loyalty above everything. She just handed him proof that she cheated. He finally has a valid reason to dump her.]

[The male lead is calling the heroine. He must be accepting the arranged marriage.]

[Marriage first, love later is the best trope. Why would an ordinary human think she could compete with a merfolk princess?]

I stared at those impossible words until everyone else at the table seemed to fade away, then lowered my eyes and typed a reply to Gavin.

[It definitely isn't yours. You know why.]

---

When Tessa saw my message, her jaw dropped so dramatically that it nearly struck the table.

“You’re serious? Your six-foot-three CEO boyfriend still hasn’t gotten any closer to you?”

I nodded with the absolute certainty of someone presenting evidence in court.

“That’s right. He can’t.”

Gavin Mercer and I had lived together for an entire year.

Every night, the furthest he ever went was pulling me into his arms and kiss me until I could barely breathe.

Whenever I blushed and reached for his belt, he rolled away.

“I’m not feeling it,” he would say calmly. “Let’s sleep.”

Then he left me lying there in burning humiliation, staring helplessly at the broad line of his back.

Eventually, my frustration got the better of me, and I tried everything I could to get closer to him.

That night, after months of frustration, I finally thought we were taking a step closer.

It hurt at first, and his movements were clumsy.

Just when things started improving, he suddenly pulled away.

He stumbled through the dark and locked himself in the bathroom for the entire night.

No matter how often I knocked, he refused to unlock the door or give me any explanation.

After that disaster, I had almost given up on him.

If I was painfully honest, the only reason I had not ended the relationship was that Gavin was painfully handsome.

Looking at his face alone could improve my mood.

Now the comments claimed he was not human and could never have children with me.

That was more than disappointing; it threatened one of the clearest dreams I had for my future.

One of my greatest dreams was to have a beautiful daughter and wear matching outfits with her.

My thumb hovered over the screen, but Gavin did not answer.

Before I could sort through the implications, more comments floated past in a bright, jeering stream.

[Here’s a joke: the supporting girl thinks she already understands the male lead.]

[Everyone knows a romance hero only responds to the heroine. Those two disappeared together for three days in the deep ocean.]

[He kisses and cuddles the supporting girl while fighting his disgust. He’s only fulfilling his duties as her boyfriend.]

[The poor male lead doesn’t understand human games. He kindly took over his roommate’s online girlfriend, and she latched on to him.]

[She’s still making trouble. Give up. He definitely won’t come comfort you.]

I slowly typed, [We should break up,] but Tessa lunged across the table and caught my wrist before I could send it.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“Mira, don’t be mad at me, but you should think this through.”

Chapter 1 She Was Pregnant

Grant Manor was extremely quiet tonight. The grandfather clock ticked away, making the atmosphere in the living room more frigid.

At the end of the long table, the private lawyer slid the divorce papers across to Victoria. His tone was strictly business, devoid of any warmth. "Ms. Sutton, please review the terms. If everything looks good, sign on the last page."

The papers lay before her, white and sharp. Like a knife, it finally came down.

Victoria lowered her gaze to the agreement, her face expressionless.

She wore an off-white coat that day, which made her face look colder and more fragile, faint shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes. But she sat straight, her fingers steady, barely a tremor to be seen.

Across from her, Alexander Grant sat in a black suit, his features sharp, the light falling across his chiseled profile making him look all the more distant and restrained.

Alexander was the man in charge of the Grant Group, and the husband she had never truly gotten close to in their brief marriage.

Or rather, soon-to-be ex-husband.

He lifted his eyes to her, his voice low, unreadable. "Take your time with the terms. Property, compensation, cash, equity. The Grant family won't shortchange you."

Victoria looked up at him.

He said they wouldn't shortchange her. That sounded nice enough, as if the two of them had simply arrived at a perfectly civil ending.

But what really killed a marriage was never the papers handed over at the very end.

It was the distrust, time after time. It was every explanation being taken for an excuse. It was her standing in the middle of a crowd, slandered, humiliated, pushed into an abyss, while he watched coldly, and then passed the final judgment himself.

"Alexander, don't say that," a gentle, fragile voice suddenly broke the silence.

Emily Sutton, seated behind Alexander, had red-rimmed eyes, as if she could no longer hold back. "Victoria is already upset enough. If you talk like that, it'll only make her feel worse."

She wore a plain white dress that day, her long hair loose over her shoulders, her eyes glistening with tears. She looked pitiful and innocent, as if this divorce pained her more than anyone, as if she were the one most wronged.

Victoria looked at her and almost wanted to laugh.

Emily, the imposter who had stolen her place for over twenty years, the one who had schemed and pushed her all the way to this point, now sat there playing the good girl.

"Emily's right," Grace Sutton sighed, her face full of worry and sympathy. "Victoria, no one wanted things to come to this.

"But you know Alexander has always hated being manipulated. All that stuff before left a knot in his heart. This marriage can't go on."

She paused, as if afraid of upsetting Victoria, and softened her tone even more. "Still, no matter what, you're my daughter. Even if you get divorced, that doesn't change. The Sutton family will always be your home."

As soon as those words left her mouth, the servants standing nearby instinctively lowered their eyes.

Everyone knew that on the day the Sutton family brought Victoria back, the first act of "family love" they gave her was making her marry into the Grant family in Emily's place.

Now that they had used her up and the marriage was over, Grace chose this moment to remember she was a daughter and put on a show of being a loving mother.

Victoria did not answer right away.

Her stomach had been bothering her lately, and it had been churning since the afternoon. By now, she felt a heavy, nameless weight pressing on her chest, each breath carrying a dull ache.

But she held it together well. From the moment she walked in, she had not shed a single tear, not even once asked why.

Alexander had expected Victoria to at least defend herself a little.

After all, over the past few days, she had kept insisting she was set up, that those leaked videos were fake, that she had never leaked Grant Group's files, and that she had never been seeing anyone else behind his back.

But now, she said nothing. It was as if she had accepted her fate, or as if she simply could not be bothered to fight anymore.

Her calm unsettled him for reasons he could not name.

Alexander tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his voice growing colder. "The terms are laid out clearly. Sign the papers, and you will still be the heiress of the Sutton family. The Grant family will not make things difficult for you out there.

"As long as you keep your head down, the past stays in the past."

'The past stays in the past?' Victoria finally smiled.

She lifted her eyes, but there was no trace of amusement in them. She looked calmly at Alexander.

"Mr. Grant, what you are saying is that as long as I sign, all those slanders, all those misunderstandings, all those accusations you personally pinned on me, they all get wiped clean, is that it?" she asked.

Alexander frowned slightly. "There is no point in rehashing all that now."

"Yeah, there is no point," Victoria agreed. "Because you never believed me anyway."

The air went still for a moment.

Emily immediately chimed in, her eyes red. "Victoria, do not blame Alexander. This is all my fault. If it were not for me—"

"Shut up." Victoria turned to her, her voice low but cold as ice. "Every time you open your mouth, it makes me sick."

Her words made everyone in the room freeze.

Emily's tears spilled over instantly. She looked deeply wronged, her face pale. "Victoria, I just care about you."

"You care about me?" Victoria looked at her, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. "Then maybe try hiding that smug look on your face first."

Emily's breath caught. She looked up instinctively, and for a split second, she almost felt like every last bit of carefully concealed satisfaction she had was laid bare right in front of Victoria's eyes.

"Enough." Alexander's voice dropped, his gaze fixed on Victoria. "You are not here to make a scene today."

"Am I making a scene?" Victoria shot back.

She reached out, picked up the divorce agreement, and flipped to the last page, her expression strikingly indifferent. "Have I not been cooperative the whole time?"

Alexander stared at her, something heavy settling in his chest for no clear reason.

The next second, Victoria picked up the pen and put her name down on the signature line.

She signed quickly, cleanly, without a second of hesitation, as if what she was putting to an end was not a marriage but the most ordinary receipt in the world.

The lawyer blinked, taken aback by how smoothly it went. He quickly collected the papers, confirmed the signature, and handed them to Alexander.

Alexander did not take them. He just kept looking at her, his eyes unreadable.

Victoria had already risen to her feet.

She was thinner than before, her coat tracing her lean, straight frame. The light fell across her shoulders, casting her as a blade that would sooner break than bend.

"It is done," she said flatly. "From now on, I have nothing to do with you all."

"Nothing to do with us?" Grace's expression shifted. She hurriedly said, "Victoria, how could you say that? Even if you and Alexander are getting divorced, you are still part of the Sutton family."

"Mrs. Sutton." Victoria turned to her. "You seem to have forgotten that from the day I came back to the Sutton family, I was never there to reconcile."

Grace's face went pale.

Charles Sutton spoke up sternly. "Victoria, don't be so ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" Victoria let out a small laugh, but her eyes stayed cold, utterly unruffled. "Mr. Sutton, on the day you brought me back and made me marry into the Grant family in Emily's place, did you not think you were being ungrateful yourself?"

Charles's face immediately turned sour.

Alexander's brow furrowed deeper.

He had always known this marriage was rushed, and that Victoria had been pushed into it at the last minute. But to him, that was the Suttons' family business, none of his concern.

He needed a wife in name only to keep his elders off his back. It didn't matter who.

Whether Victoria had married him willingly had never crossed his mind.

Victoria's gaze swept across every face in the room and finally came to rest on Alexander.

"Mr. Grant," she said, her tone even, almost calm. "You had better pray you never run into me again for the rest of your life."

Alexander's expression darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Victoria slipped the wedding ring off her finger and set it gently on the table, a faint, crisp click ringing out. "It doesn't mean anything.

"I'm simply reminding you that there are some people you only get one chance with, and once you miss it, they are gone for good."

With that, she turned and walked away. From start to finish, she did not shed a single tear, nor did she look back even once.

The living room fell so quiet that even the servants' breathing grew faint.

No one had expected the divorce to end this quickly, and even fewer had expected Victoria to walk out not in defeat, but as if she had never thought much of the Grant family to begin with.

Alexander sat where he was, his gaze fixed on the wedding ring lying on the table, his expression darkening by the second.

For some reason, an uncomfortable feeling crept up from somewhere deep inside him, like something he had always taken for granted was slipping completely out of his control.

But the feeling passed in a flash, and he pushed it down quickly.

He did not need it. There was no point.

When Victoria stepped out of Grant Manor, the night wind hit her face, and her steps faltered. The churning in her stomach that she had held back all evening finally surged up.

She gripped the doorframe, her face deathly pale.

The driver moved to help her, but she raised a hand to stop him. "I can manage."

Her voice was soft, but steady enough that not a trace of vulnerability showed.

Chapter 1

I leave the flowers on my mother’s grave just as the sun begins to rise over the Blood Moon pack.

Moon crystal lilies, her favorites according to my grandmother. She died giving birth to me twenty-two years ago. I finish cleaning the grave and gather my things to leave. I don’t want to run into anyone. Carrying the guilt of being the reason my mother died is already more than enough without my father or the rest of my family throwing disgusted looks or cruel comments my way.

To my father, I’m nothing but a living curse, the daughter who should never have been born. The killer of his Luna, his love, his mate chosen by the Moon Goddess.

My plan is to head into the forest, visit my grandmother at her cabin, and spend my birthday with her. Some people would say that’s better than nothing, but my father’s rejection still hurts. So does the rejection from his new mate and my siblings.

I’m invisible when it suits them, and painfully visible when they need someone to dump their anger and frustrations on. Today, if I stay in that house, that anger will come from my father and my brothers.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Mom. But thank you for choosing to love me and have me even when no one else wanted me.” I run my hand over the photograph embedded in her headstone and let a single tear fall. “I’m going to Grandma’s today. I won’t be alone.”

When I turn around, my bag already packed, I wipe my face and head toward the pack cemetery’s exit.

It’s still early, but I hurry home so I can take a quick shower. Grandma Amelia usually waits for me to have breakfast with her, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.

Unfortunately, there are two cars parked in the driveway, which means my father and the others are already awake entertaining visitors.

Christian, my father’s Beta, steps out through the front door looking tense, and out of habit I stop and lower my head, waiting for him to walk past me.

He doesn’t. Instead, he stops in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder.

“Celine, you need to come inside.” His voice is soft, kind, but there’s something wrong in his tone, as if he’s hurting. “Your father’s been looking for you for hours. Where were you?”

Without lifting my head, I answer quietly.

“I went to the cemetery early to bring flowers to my mom.” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Beta Christian. I forgot to let you know.”

His hand moves slowly against my shoulder, like he’s trying to comfort me.

“Look at me, Celine.” I raise my head, finally looking away from my feet to meet my father’s Beta’s gray eyes. “Go up to your father’s office. The family’s gathered there. I’m afraid there’s bad news for you. I’m sorry, child.”

His hand leaves my shoulder as he steps aside.

My older brother, Cassius, stands in the doorway with his arms crossed and a hard frown on his face. Annoyed, as always. He walks toward me slowly.

“What did I do wrong, Beta Christian?” I ask quietly before my brother can drag me to my father’s office.

“Your grandmother died last night, Celine. You should go. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Every tear I refused to shed this morning finally breaks free as my knees hit the cold, damp ground.

“Where the hell were you?!” my brother shouts, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me to my feet. “Grandma died while you were out wandering around!”

I hear his yelling and feel the sharp pain in my scalp as it burns under the force of his grip. But nothing hurts more than knowing the only person in the world who ever thought I was special, who truly loved me, is gone to run through the skies with the Moon Goddess and her daughter.

Now I have nothing. No one.

My brother’s brutal slap jerks me back to reality when I feel my lip split open and warm blood spill down my skin.

“What are you waiting for?! Move!”

Without giving me time to stand properly or pull myself together, he drags me forward without releasing my hair.

“This time, I’ll make sure your punishment is unforgettable,” he says, finally shoving me loose near the entrance of the house.

“Let her go, Cassius. Don’t treat her like that. She was at the cemetery leaving flowers for your mother.” Beta Christian stops my brother’s hand just before it strikes my face again.

My brother’s dry laugh is enough to shatter what little strength I have left. The cruel comment follows immediately after.

“Celine’s the one who killed my mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with Grandma’s death too.”

“You know that’s not true. The pack doctor said she passed peacefully in her sleep. She’s your sister too. You don’t need to treat her this way.”

Beta Christian’s voice hardens, and while I try to fix the mess of my hair, I give him a quiet look of gratitude for defending me from my brother.

“I only have one sister, and this cursed thing isn’t her,” Cassius spits angrily.

I understand his pain. Our mother died because of me, and he had to grow up without her. He actually remembers her when she was alive. I only... know her through photographs and the stories my grandmother told me.

“Let her change and clean up that wound. I’ll take her to the office myself.”

Cassius turns away, but before leaving, he steps closer so only I can hear him. His voice sends a chill through my body.

“You should’ve been the one who died. My mother. My grandmother. Now that she’s not here to protect you, what do you think we’re going to do with you? Your luck just ran out, Celine.”

Beta Christian grabs my arm to pull me away from my brother and escorts me to my tiny room down the servants’ hallway.

“Hurry up.” He opens the door for me and gently pushes me inside. “Your grandmother’s death isn’t the only thing that happened this morning. Your sister’s mate arrived an hour ago to comfort her, and you weren’t there to welcome him with the others. The Alpha, your sister, and Luna Beatriz are furious.”

I didn’t even know Anne had found her mate. I nod silently, and Christian closes the door behind him.

I wash my face, change into black clothes, and stare at myself in the mirror.

My cheek is swollen, but both my lip and the bruise are already beginning to heal.

Just like me.

Chapter 1

After Christmas Eve dinner, Mom handed each of us a gift envelope.

Ryan opened his first. Inside was the deed transferring the family house to him.

Madison opened hers. Inside was a cashier's check for $75,000.

Mine was empty.

Mom smiled. "I'm getting older, so I figured it was time to start dividing things up."

"Ashley is pregnant, Ryan, so I'm signing the house over to you."

"Madison, you're getting married soon. Consider this my contribution to the wedding."

"And Mercy, haven't you always said I loved your brother and sister more than you? Once I retire, I'll move in with you. We can finally make up for all those years you felt like you didn't have a mother."

I shook my head. "Mom, I can't afford the kind of love you give me."

Then I pulled a signed no-contact declaration from my bag and held it out to her.

Mom's eyes immediately filled with tears, and everyone in the room started calling me selfish and ungrateful.

The insults kept coming right up until I opened my envelope.

Everyone stared at the no-contact declaration. The room went dead silent.

Ryan was the first to react. He jabbed a finger in my face.

"Mercy Bennett! What the hell are you doing on Christmas Eve?"

"Mom has always treated you better than the rest of us. You've been the favorite your whole life, and somehow that still isn't enough for you."

"Even tonight, your envelope is obviously the biggest one!"

Madison jumped in immediately, slipping an arm around Mom as if she needed to protect her from me.

"Mercy, you're in your twenties. Isn't it time you grew up?"

"Mom bought you a solid-gold bracelet for your birthday this year. Do you have any idea what gold costs right now? And you still have the nerve to say she doesn't love you?"

A bitter laugh slipped out as tears tracked down my cheeks.

"If you like it that much, you can have it."

I reached into my bag. The second Mom realized what I was doing, she pulled away from Madison and rushed at me.

She clamped both hands over mine, her voice instantly soft and motherly. "Mercy, honey, that was my birthday gift to you. You can't just give it away."

Seeing Mom rush to defend me, Madison crushed her envelope in her fist.

Uncle Robert, who had been standing off to the side, finally spoke. "Mercy, apologize to your mother and we'll let this go."

Mom waved him off at once. "No, no, she doesn't need to apologize. Mercy just started her first real job. She's probably stressed. I understand."

I wiped away my tears, and when I spoke again, my voice was steady.

"I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?"

"I'm not wrong. And I'm going no-contact. Starting today."

With that, I placed the gold bracelet Madison had been talking about in her hand.

Madison looked down at the darkened metal and fell silent.

Ashley, who worked at a jewelry store, blurted out before she could stop herself. "That's not solid gold. It's cheap metal with a gold-colored coating."

Eyes darted around the room. Mom lowered her gaze and suddenly couldn't look anyone in the eye.

Ryan broke the silence. "Mom's getting older. Somebody probably scammed her. But she meant to buy you a real gold bracelet. That's what matters."

Mom nodded quickly. "Mercy, I'm not as sharp as I used to be. I wanted to get you something nice, and I must've bought the wrong thing. That's on me."

"I'll replace it. Okay?"

Madison tried to slip the cheap bracelet back onto my wrist. "See? Mom cares about you. She thought she was spending thousands and didn't even hesitate."

I jerked my hand away. The flaking bracelet hit the floor with a sharp metallic clink.

Then I pulled free of Mom's grip and said evenly, "No. Sign it. I came back to end things with this fam—"

I never finished the sentence. Uncle Robert slapped me across the face.

He stared at me as if I had broken his heart. "Mercy Bennett, you don't get to forget everything people have done for you. After your father died, your mother raised all three of you on her own."

"Ryan and Madison can complain about favoritism if they want. You're the one person who can't."

He pointed at Mom's bad leg. "If your mother hadn't gone back into that fire, you would've died in that house."

"And now you're cutting her off because she got tricked into buying you a fake bracelet?"

Mom took an uneasy step back, making her limp impossible to miss.

Anger flared across every face in the room. I didn't so much as flinch.

I looked past Uncle Robert at Mom. "Mom, you still haven't told them the truth about that fire?"