Author: Momo Chan

My fiancé thinks I’m the easiest girl in the world to make cry. He’s not wrong. I cry when my fiancé comes home late. I cry when he refuses to kiss me. I cry even harder when he kisses me too much. Tonight his phone lights up with an emergency call from the office. My lips start to tremble. Tears pool before I can stop them— And then I remember the post. The anonymous one. The one I’d stumbled across on the gossip forum a few days ago. Some user claiming to know a stranger’s entire future. Normally, I’d scroll past. But the details were too specific. The arranged marriage into old money. The crybaby fiancée who couldn’t stop clinging. The fiancé who tolerated her out of obligation. It was me. Every single line. I told myself it was nonsense. I kept scrolling. ＞Cry all day. That’s all she does. You can see how sick of it the male lead is. ＞He hates clingy vines like her. She only got this arranged marriage because his family owes hers a debt. ＞Relax. He’s about to meet the real female lead at the office. They’ll fall for each other on sight. The crybaby side character will lose her mind with jealousy, get hit by a truck, and her family goes bankrupt. Happy ending. I freeze mid-sob. That comments loop in my head, loud and impossible to ignore. I scramble off him. “Hey. Go ahead. The company’s more important.” Lucas Langford stares up at me. His breathing is uneven. His face is smudged with my lipstick. His wrists are still cuffed—the leather ones I’d cried for half an hour to talk him into wearing. The first time I handed him that see-through V-neck and those cuffs, his face went so dark it looked homicidal. I’d cried for those, too. I told him my best friend’s husband wore exactly that to bed every night. “It makes his pecs look insane. Some girls have all the luck.” Lucas’s face got even worse. But he put them on. Now his voice comes out low and rough. “You sure you want me to go?” His eyes search mine. Probing. I nod and I can feel the tears threatening. “Then unlock me.” His tone goes cold. I scramble for the cuffs. My fingers shake. I keep thinking about the comments. About how I’m supposed to die because I prevented his destined marriage. I can’t get the cuffs off. The more I panic, the closer I am to tears. He sighs. His voice softens. “Jen. If you don’t want me to go, you can tell me—” “It’s open.” The cuff is off. I shove the shirt at him, swallowing the sob. “I’ll be fine. Drive safe.” Lucas pauses. He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he really does hate me. When he takes the shirt, his fingers avoid mine. He’s dressed in seconds. The tailored suit transforms him—wide shoulders, narrow waist, silver-rimmed glasses catching the light. “Don’t wait up.” I smile. “Go.” His jaw tightens. He opens the door and leaves without a word. The slam echoes harder than usual. Every tear I’d been holding back comes crashing down. I call my mother. My voice cracks on the first syllable. “Mom… I want a different fiancé.” “What happened, sweetheart?” I can’t tell her the truth. Can’t tell her Lucas is going to fall in love with someone else. That I’ll get hit by a truck. That he’ll bankrupt our family afterward. Not exactly something I can say out loud — Mom, I read it on a gossip forum. “He doesn’t like me,” I mumble. She goes quiet. “Okay, baby. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’ll talk to your father. Don’t cry, okay?” “Okay.” I wipe my eyes. The bed is cold beside me. The forum’s not wrong. My family is new money. Dad won the lottery when I was seven, made some smart investments, and suddenly we were running in the same circles as Kingsfield’s old-money families. Before that, I drooled over cheap sausages from street carts. The Langfords are old money. One of the oldest in Kingsfield. Their connections run through every old name in the city. Lucas is the eldest grandson of the main branch. Groomed as heir since birth. Composed. Decisive. Ruthless. He took over the family business while most people his age were still figuring out their majors. They say my family did the Langfords some favor. A debt of gratitude. No one ever told me what it was. I don’t even remember meeting Lucas before he showed up at our house a month ago and proposed. At first I spent thirty seconds wondering if it was a romance scam. Every doubt I had melted the second I saw his face. *Sign me the hell up.* And we have a one-month trial period. If I wasn’t happy, I could walk away. No strings. Back then I thought he was being sweet. Now I know the truth. He doesn’t like me. He just wanted to help his family pay off a debt. Three days left until I can leave without breaking the agreement. I don’t want to be a side character in someone else’s love story. So I won’t cry anymore. I’ll walk away first.

To rewrite my fate, I’m on my best behavior all night. No whiny texts. No “do you miss me yet.” No blowing up his phone. Not a single message. In the morning, figuring Lucas won’t be home, I head downstairs without a bra. “Why aren’t you sleeping in?” That familiar low voice. I look up. Lucas is on the sofa. His gaze lifts. Drags down my body. His eyes darken for half a second. My face catches fire. He’s not supposed to be here. I have no idea how to play this. I pull up the forum on my phone out of habit. The thread has new comments. > LOL is she seriously acting shy? > The vicious side character throwing herself into the ML’s arms and crying about something stupid AGAIN. She’s a grown woman — drop the baby-wife act. > The ML is exhausted from work and has to come home to someone he doesn’t love. I’d be dead inside too. > Just wait till he meets the FL. He’s gonna fall for her energy so hard. Double strong leads ftw. I dig my nails into my palm. *Don’t cry.* I crush the impulse to throw myself at him and force a casual smile. “Couldn’t sleep. You’re home early. Have you eaten?” Lucas sets down the financial report. A faint crease between his brows. His eyes drop. “The floor is cold. Where are your shoes?” I glance at my bare feet. “It’s summer—” He’s already standing. Walking toward me. He stops one step lower so we’re almost the same height. Faint shadows under his eyes. He looks tired. Worn. The kind of tired that makes me want to kiss his eyelids. He reaches for me the way he always does — to pick me up. That’s when I catch it. A trace of perfume on his collar. A woman’s scent. Not mine. My fingers curl. I step back. “You should rest. I’m going to eat.” Lucas’s arm hangs in the air. His eyes go cold. The kind of cold that makes you shiver. I don’t dare look at him again. I turn and half-jog toward the kitchen. Behind me, I feel his stare burning into my back. He doesn’t move for a long time. Lucas doesn’t stay home long. Before he leaves, he knocks on my bedroom door. I’m cocooned in my blanket gossiping with Tara. The knock makes me shove the phone into my chest. I sit up, polite and stuttering. “Is— is there something else?” I can’t let him catch me. Yesterday he told me to stop gossiping about nonsense with my best friend. If he knew the nonsense was about him… Lucas’s face is unreadable. Those sharp eyes land on mine. Then slide to my phone. Linger. I swallow. My fingers go white around the case. “Lucas?” He pulls his gaze back. His expression is somehow even sourer than before. “I’m heading to the office. If you need anything, reach out. Tell Mrs. Park (Our housekeeper) what you’d like for lunch.” He pauses. “I’m leaving.” Something is off about him today. He said I’m leaving twice. I smile. “Okay. Drive safe.” His hand tightens on the doorframe. Then he pulls it shut. I check the forum again. Fresh comments: > The clingy crybaby is acting different? I was SURE she’d beg for a goodbye kiss. Did she finally figure out the ML likes composed, confident women and try to copy that? Imitation is flattery, I guess. > She probably noticed his disgust is showing. I bet if she tried to kiss him right now he’d literally push her away. > The ML is already subconsciously staying pure for the FL. His virginity is the best wedding gift lol. My heart feels like it’s been dropped in acid. A dull, squeezing pain. I fight the tears with everything I have. My phone buzzes. Tara. “Babe. BABE. Drop. His. Ass.” “Hot or not, he doesn’t get to treat you like an inconvenience. You didn’t beg for this — HIS family came to YOURS.” “Pretty privilege only goes so far. With your dad’s money I’ll line up six-foot-two men with abs AND a personality. You can swipe like it’s a buffet.” “I’m not joking. Say the word and I’ll have someone here in twenty minutes.” I bite my lip. “Okay.” I hit send. My eyelids feel heavy. Sleep drags me under before I can think. I never see the photo Tara sends after. It’s a smiling boy in the white button‑down.

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I was eating cake when Derek suddenly put down his fork and looked at me. “Who’s Mike Hansen?” My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. My heart slammed against my ribs. Mike Hansen. That name was a code I’d made up with Sarah Mitchell one night in college, after way too many beers. We promised each other, if one of us ever went missing, if something was wrong, that name would be the signal. No one else in the world knew. And Sarah had been missing for thirty-two days. She said she was going to Sedona to clear her head. She never came back. I looked at Derek’s calm face, and my blood ran cold. How did he know that name? Mike Hansen was a name Sarah and I invented our senior year of college, sitting on the roof of our dorm with two cans of cheap beer. The stars were thick that night. Sarah threw her arm around my shoulders, half-drunk, and said, “Claire, we need a code word.” “A code word for what?” “For if something happens to one of us. If one of us disappears. You hear that name, you know something’s wrong.” I told her she was being dramatic. But I helped her come up with it anyway. We settled on Mike Hansen because it was so painfully common. No one would ever suspect it. Only two people in the world knew what those words meant. Me. And Sarah. And Sarah had been missing for thirty-two days. She said she was going to Sedona for a few days. Before she left, she sent me a voice message, her voice so excited: “Claire! What should I send you?” That was the last time I heard her voice. After that, her texts went unanswered. Her phone went straight to voicemail. Her Instagram stopped at a photo of Cathedral Rock. I filed a report. Her family filed a report. The police in Arizona were looking. But no body. No trace. Sarah had vanished like she never existed. And now. My husband Derek. A man who didn’t even have Sarah on social media. A man who’d only met her a handful of times. A man who nodded at her at parties and then walked away. He had just asked me, while eating cake, who Mike Hansen was. “You okay?” Derek raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I’m fine.” I shoved a bite of cake into my mouth. Tasted like nothing. “Never heard that name. Where’d you see it?” “Oh, scrolling online.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Just curious.” He changed the subject. Started talking about his golf game this weekend. I didn’t hear a single word. My brain was stuck on one question. How did he know?

After dinner, Derek went to take a shower. I sat on the couch, my palms sweating. The sound of water came from the bathroom. I looked at the bathroom door. Then I looked at his phone on the coffee table. I knew the passcode. My birthday. I picked it up. My fingers were shaking. I went through his texts. His call log. His notes app. Nothing. Too clean. A normal person’s phone isn’t that clean. I went to his laptop in the study. Same passcode. He’d never hidden anything from me, or so I thought. Search history. Downloads. File folders. I checked everything. Then I opened his Uber trip history. My hand stopped moving. One month ago. Derek told me he had a business trip to San Diego for two days. I packed his suitcase. But the trip history showed something else. He didn’t go to San Diego. He went to Sedona. He left one day before Sarah arrived. He came back two days after she disappeared. The shower turned off. I closed the laptop. Walked back to the living room. Sat down. Picked up my phone and pretended to scroll. Derek came out drying his hair, glanced at me. “Coming to bed?” “In a minute.” I smiled. He walked into the bedroom and turned off the light. I stared at the bedroom door in the darkness, my fingers digging into the arm of the couch. Derek. What did you do in Sedona?

The next morning, I told Derek I had a work thing. A last-minute trip to Denver for a client meeting. Derek was buttoning his cuff. Didn’t look up. “How long?” “Three or four days.” He turned and looked at me. Smiled. “Be safe.” I smiled back. My flight wasn’t to Denver. It was to Sedona. The plane landed just after noon. Sedona was dry and hot, the sun so bright it made my head spin. The last photo Sarah ever posted was taken in this city. Red rocks. Blue sky. Clouds that looked painted on. She was standing in front of a crystal shop, smiling, her eyes all crinkled up. I didn’t have time to cry. I went straight to her hotel. Sarah had sent me the location before she left, a little boutique place near Oak Creek called The Desert Rose. I walked up to the front desk, pulled up Sarah’s photo on my phone, and asked in my most polite voice, “Do you remember this woman? She stayed here about a month ago.” The receptionist looked at the photo. Shook her head. “Her name is Sarah Mitchell. From Chicago.” The receptionist typed into her computer. Then her face shifted. “Yes. She stayed for two nights. But she never checked out. Her things are still in our storage room.” My chest tightened. Her things were still there. She wasn’t. I steadied my voice and asked the question I was terrified of. “About a month ago, did a man from Chicago also stay here?” I showed her Derek’s photo. The receptionist looked at it. Typed again. Then looked up at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “Yes. He stayed for four nights.” Four nights. Longer than Sarah. “What room was he in?” “203.” “And Sarah Mitchell?” “205.” Same floor. One room apart. I stood at the front desk with my head buzzing. The obvious thought was the worst one. The one that makes your stomach drop. They were having an affair. Sarah and Derek. Hiding in Sedona. But I pushed that thought down as fast as it came. No. Sarah hated Derek. Not in a subtle way. Not in a polite behind-his-back way. She hated him to his face. Every time I brought him to a party, Sarah barely spoke. And once, after a few too many drinks, she looked right at him and said, “Claire has perfect taste in everything except men.” Derek’s face had gone purple. They’d barely seen each other after that. There was no way. So then why was he staying next door to her? What was he doing there? I took a breath and looked at the receptionist. “I need to see your security footage from that week.” The receptionist hesitated. “That’s… we’d need the owner’s permission.” “Then get it.” “And probably a police request.” “My best friend is missing.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “She’s been gone for a month. No body. No trace. Your hotel might be the last place she was seen alive. Do you think your owner is going to say no?” The receptionist went quiet. Then she picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later, the hotel manager took me to the security room. Small space. One computer. Two monitors. The manager pulled up the footage from the week Sarah checked in. I sat in the chair, my hands cold, and watched. Day one. Sarah walked into the lobby with her suitcase. She checked in at the front desk. She was wearing a yellow sundress, her hair down, laughing with the receptionist. My eyes burned. Then, in the bottom corner of the screen. A man walked in. Black polo shirt. Baseball cap. Sunglasses. The way he moved. The way he stood. It was Derek. He didn’t go to the front desk. He went to the seating area. Picked up a magazine. Pretended to read. But his eyes weren’t on the magazine. They were on Sarah. From check-in. To room key. To elevator. He watched her the whole time. A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Fast forward,” I said. The manager sped up the footage. Day one, afternoon. Sarah left the hotel to walk into town. Three minutes later, Derek followed. Same hat. Same sunglasses. Staying about a hundred feet back. Day one, evening. Sarah ate dinner at a restaurant next to the hotel. Derek sat outside at a bar across the street. He ordered a drink. His table had a clear line of sight to Sarah’s window. She never noticed him. Day two. Sarah went to the red rock trails. Derek followed. Sarah went to Tlaquepaque. Derek followed. Sarah stopped at a food truck to buy fry bread. Derek stood at a souvenir shop across the street, pretending to read a postcard. Every frame. Every shot. He was there. My hands started shaking. This wasn’t an affair. Affair partners walk together. They eat together. They touch. He never once spoke to her. She never once looked at him. This wasn’t cheating. This was stalking. “What about day two after that?” I asked, my voice dry. The manager pulled up the rest of the footage. Day two, late afternoon. Sarah checked out of the hotel, or, she left. She had her backpack, her phone in her hand. She looked happy. The footage showed her walking out the front door and heading north. Three minutes later. Derek came out the side door. He walked the same direction. And then the footage ended. The hotel cameras only covered about fifty yards. Fifty yards beyond that, I couldn’t see. “Is there any other footage?” I asked. The manager shook her head. “Just what’s here. Street cameras would be with the police.” I sat there for a long moment. Then I stood up, said thank you, and walked out. I stood outside the hotel and pulled up a map on my phone. Sarah had walked north. North from here went past a few houses, some empty fields, a parking lot. And then it hit a dead end. The base of the mountains. A stretch of undeveloped land. Rugged. Steep. Unforgiving. I stared at the map, my fingers frozen. She went there. He followed. And then she disappeared.

I rented a car and drove north for about forty minutes. The road ended at a patch of empty, scrubby land. The mountains rose up, steep and raw. Loose rocks. Dry brush. The wind was strong enough to push you sideways. This wasn’t a hiking trail. There were no signs, no paths. Just a dirt track that led nowhere. I stood at the edge and looked down. Boulders. Dead grass. A ravine carved out by flash floods. If someone fell from here. I didn’t let myself finish the thought. I started walking to the nearest houses. A tiny cluster of trailers and old cabins, a few families living scattered among the juniper trees. I showed Sarah’s photo to everyone I saw. No one remembered her. Door after door. Head shake after head shake. I was ready to give up when I saw her. A little girl. Maybe six or seven years old. Sitting under a juniper tree in a faded pink T-shirt, barefoot, playing with stones in the dirt. She was holding something. A phone. A pink case. With a cartoon rabbit on the back. My brain went blank. That case. I gave Sarah that case for her birthday. Pink. Rabbit. Because Sarah loved rabbits. I walked over slowly and crouched down, trying to keep my voice soft. “Hey, sweetheart. Where did you get that phone?” The girl looked up at me and pulled the phone behind her back. “Is it yours?” “No,” she whispered. Her eyes darted away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I stayed low. “That phone belongs to my best friend. She’s lost. I’m trying to find her. Can you tell me where you found it?” The girl pressed her lips together. Her eyes had something I rarely see in children. Fear. Not of me. Something older. “Did you see something scary?” I asked quietly. The girl’s lip trembled. She didn’t answer. I pulled out some cash and held it out to her. “If you tell me, I’ll give you this. You can buy anything you want.” The girl looked at the money. Then at me. Then she pointed toward the mountain. “Down there.” “Down where?” She pointed again. Toward the ravine. My heart dropped. “Did you find anything else?” The girl hesitated. Then slowly pulled something from behind her back. A crossbody bag. Fabric with little flowers. A small tassel hanging off the strap. Sarah’s bag. I knew this bag. She saw it at a mall in Chicago two years ago. Said it was too expensive. I bought it for her for Christmas. She cried. Now it was stained with mud and water. The fabric was starting to rot. I took it. My fingers were shaking. I opened it. Her lip balm. Her portable charger. A photo strip from a photo booth, the two of us, making stupid faces. Everything was still inside. If the bag was down there. If the phone was down there. Then where was Sarah? “Can you show me where you found these?” I asked. The girl shook her head hard. “I’ll give you more money.” She shook her head again. “Please.” My voice broke. “Please.” The girl looked at my face for a long time. Then she stood up, dusted off her shorts, and said, “Okay. I’ll show you.” She walked ahead. I followed. The path got narrower. The brush got thicker. The air started to smell wrong. My stomach turned. I kept repeating the same prayer in my head. I would rather she had slept with my husband. I would rather she had betrayed me. I would rather she had run off with him. Anything but this. The girl stopped. She turned around. Her face was pale. “What is it?” I asked. “That place.” She swallowed. “It smells bad.” I didn’t go any farther. I knew that if I kept going, if I found something, I wouldn’t be able to handle it alone. I needed professionals. I needed evidence. I took the girl’s hand, walked her back to the cabins, and called 911. It took two tries to get through. I explained everything. The missing person. The phone. The bag. The smell. The dispatcher said someone would come. But it would take time. I hung up and called a search and rescue team I’d looked up before I left Chicago. They worked with the county sheriff on mountain recoveries. They got there faster than the police. They said they’d be there by afternoon. Waiting was the worst part. I sat on a rock at the edge of the cabins, holding Sarah’s bag in my lap, not moving. I opened it and pulled out the photo strip. We were standing in front of our dorm, wearing our graduation gowns, arms around each other, laughing. Sarah was making a heart with her hands. We were twenty-two years old. Sarah was my college roommate. Four years. She had the bed on the left. I had the bed on the right. Every night we’d stay up talking across the gap until two or three in the morning. About the future. About boys. About everything. The night we graduated, we sat on the roof of our dorm with two beers and looked at the stars. That was the night she came up with the code. “Claire, we need a signal.” “If something ever happens to one of us, the other one hears that name and knows what to do.” I told her she was crazy. But I remembered. I never thought I’d actually use it. Now I was sitting in a patch of dirt in Arizona, holding her rotting bag, waiting for a search team to find her body.

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I am the Luna of the Silver Fang Pack. Tonight, my mate told me to kneel before his mistress and beg for her forgiveness. Because I “failed to produce an heir.” But he doesn’t know — the child he ordered thrown into the dungeon three days ago carries his bloodline. His only bloodline. …… …… The cold of the marble floor seeped through the thin fabric of my dress as Alaric’s command pressed down on me like a physical weight. An Alpha’s order. My wolf whimpered inside me, clawing against the compulsion to obey. “Kneel, Selene.” His voice — the same voice that had once whispered promises against my throat in the dark — was ice. Flat. Final. I looked up at him. Those steel-grey eyes I had loved since I was seventeen held nothing. No warmth. No recognition. As if seven years of being his Luna, his partner, the woman who rebuilt this pack from the ashes of war, meant nothing. Beside him, Vivienne smiled. She stood draped in crimson silk, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder, her hand resting on Alaric’s forearm with the possessiveness of someone who had already won. “She’s not kneeling, darling,” Vivienne murmured, pressing closer to him. “I told you — she has no respect for your new Luna.” New Luna. The words hit me like silver through the chest. “Alaric.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You can’t replace a Luna bond. The Moon Goddess—” “The Moon Goddess gave me a barren mate.” He cut me off without flinching. “The elders have approved the dissolution. You have no pup. You have no claim.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him everything — about the pregnancy I’d hidden because the pack doctor warned me that Alaric’s enemies would use it against him, about the child I’d secretly carried to term and hidden away with a trusted omega in the eastern wing, about the night three days ago when Vivienne’s guards “discovered” the baby and dragged the screaming infant to the dungeon on charges of being a rogue’s offspring smuggled into the packhouse. My child. His child. But the words died in my throat. Because Alaric was looking at me the way you look at something you’ve already discarded. “You have until dawn,” he said. “Take what you can carry and leave pack territory.” He turned his back. Seven years. I had given him seven years, a war victory, a rebuilt pack, and a son he didn’t know existed. And he gave me until dawn. I didn’t kneel. I walked out of the great hall with my spine straight and my wolf howling inside my ribcage. The pack members lining the corridor wouldn’t meet my eyes. Some of them I had healed. Some of them I had fed during the famine. One of them — Mara, the head omega — had tears streaming silently down her face. None of them spoke. Alpha’s word was law. And Alaric’s word had just declared nothing to me. I made it to the east corridor before my legs gave out. I pressed my back against the stone wall and slid to the floor, biting down on my fist to keep from screaming. The dungeon. My baby was still in the dungeon. I had tried to get to him twice. Both times, Vivienne’s personal guards had blocked the entrance. The second time, one of them had grabbed my arm hard enough to leave bruises and whispered, “The Alpha’s mistress says if you go near the rogue child again, she’ll have it put down.” Rogue child. My son. Eight weeks old, with Alaric’s grey eyes and my dark hair. A perfect, helpless little boy who didn’t understand why he was sleeping in a cold cell instead of his mother’s arms. “Luna?” I looked up. Mara was crouching in front of me, her round face blotched with crying. “Don’t call me that anymore,” I whispered. “You’ll always be my Luna.” She pressed something into my hand — a small iron key. “Third sub-level. The old servant’s passage. Vivienne’s guards don’t know about it.” I stared at the key. “You have to go now,” Mara urged. “Before the dawn patrol starts.” I closed my fist around the key so tightly the metal teeth bit into my palm. I was done being the dutiful mate. I was done waiting for Alaric to see my worth. Tonight I will get my son. And then I would burn everything Vivienne had built on my ashes.

The servant’s passage smelled like damp stone and forgotten things. It spiraled downward in a tight corkscrew, the steps worn smooth by generations of omegas who had used it to carry food and firewood to the lower levels without being seen by the Alpha’s household. I moved fast, one hand trailing the wall, the other clutching Mara’s key. My wolf senses cut through the darkness — I could hear the drip of water, the distant clang of the furnace, and somewhere below, so faint it nearly killed me, the thin cry of a baby. Kai. I’d named him in secret, in the small room where I’d given birth with only Mara and the pack’s retired healer present. Kai — it meant “keeper of the earth” in the old wolf tongue. A name for someone who would hold the ground when everything else fell apart. The passage emptied into a narrow corridor that ran parallel to the dungeon cells. Through the gaps in the stone, I could see the flicker of torchlight. One guard, sitting on a wooden stool, scrolling through his phone. One of Vivienne’s handpicked betas — young, sharp-jawed, wearing the new crimson armband that marked Vivienne’s personal detail. He hadn’t been part of this pack six months ago. None of Vivienne’s guards had. They’d arrived with her like a private army, and Alaric had simply… let them stay. I pressed myself against the wall and waited. My wolf calculated the distance, the angle, the risk. I was a Luna — my wolf was stronger than most females in the pack, stronger than some males. But I was also sleep-deprived, malnourished from the stress of hiding a pregnancy, and running on nothing but fury. Enough fury to level this whole dungeon. The guard stood up, stretched, and walked toward the far end of the corridor — probably to relieve himself. The moment his footsteps faded, I slipped the key into the servant’s door, pushed it open, and stepped into the dungeon. The cells down here hadn’t been used in years. Alaric’s father had kept prisoners of war in them during the border conflicts, but Alaric had sealed the level after taking the Alpha title. The air was frigid, smelling of iron and neglect. And there, in the last cell, on a pile of threadbare blankets that someone — Mara, I was sure — had smuggled down, was Kai. My son. He was awake, his tiny fists clenched, his grey eyes wide and searching. When he saw me, his face crumpled into the expression that all babies make when they finally see the person they’ve been crying for — half relief, half accusation. Where were you? “I’m here,” I breathed, fumbling with the cell lock. The key didn’t fit — this lock was different, newer, shinier. Vivienne had changed it. Panic flared white-hot. I yanked at the bars. They didn’t budge. Kai started to cry — a real cry, the kind that echoed. “Shh, baby, please—” I reached through the bars and touched his cheek. He was cold. His little body was cold. In a dungeon cell, in the middle of winter, my eight-week-old baby was lying on a stone floor with nothing but thin blankets. Something inside me cracked. Not broke — cracked. The way the earth cracks before a volcano. I gripped the bars and pulled. My wolf surged forward, pouring strength into my muscles. The metal groaned. I pulled harder, a scream building in my chest. The bar on the right bent — just enough to create a gap. I squeezed through, scraping skin off my shoulder, and gathered Kai into my arms. He was so light. Too light. Had they even been feeding him? I tucked him inside my coat, against my chest, and felt his tiny body shudder with a sob before he burrowed into my warmth and went still. “I’ve got you,” I whispered into his dark hair. “I’ve got you and I’m never letting go.” The guard’s footsteps were returning. I moved. Back through the gap, back through the servant’s door, back up the spiraling passage. Kai was silent now — some primal infant instinct telling him to be quiet while his mother ran. I emerged on the ground floor near the kitchens. The packhouse was dark and silent; it was past two in the morning. Through the window, I could see the moon — waning, but still bright enough to silver the snow outside. Take what you can carry and leave pack territory. Fine. I was leaving. But not before I made one stop. The Alpha’s study was on the second floor. I found out the code to the door — 0917, the date of our mating ceremony. The date Alaric had looked into my eyes under the full moon and sworn, before the Goddess and the entire pack, that I was his forever. Forever lasted seven years. The door clicked open. I slipped inside. The study was exactly as I remembered — oak desk, maps on the walls, the faint scent of Alaric’s cologne. For a moment, my wolf ached. This room smelled like safety. Like home. I crushed the feeling. I went straight to the hidden panel behind the bookshelf. Alaric didn’t know I knew about it — I’d discovered it three years ago while cleaning, but I’d never opened it, because I trusted him. I didn’t trust him anymore. The panel slid open, revealing a small safe. I entered the code — the same one, because Alaric was arrogant enough to use one code for everything — and the safe clicked open. Inside: documents. Stacks of them. Pack alliances, financial records, land treaties. And at the very bottom, a folder stamped with a red seal I didn’t recognize. I pulled it out and opened it. My blood went cold. It was a contract. Between Alaric and the Nightshade Pack — the most feared pack on the continent, led by Alpha Rhett Voss, a man known as the Butcher of the Eastern Territories. The contract was a trade agreement. Weapons, territory, safe passage through Silver Fang land. And the price? Me. The contract stated, in cold legal language, that upon dissolution of his mating bond, Alaric would deliver his former Luna to the Nightshade Pack as a “diplomatic gift” to ensure the alliance. Dated six months ago. Before Vivienne arrived. Before the accusations of barrenness. Before any of it. Alaric hadn’t fallen for Vivienne and decided to replace me. He had sold me to Rhett Voss first, and then manufactured a reason to get rid of me. Everything — the lies about my infertility, the arrival of Vivienne, the baby being dragged to the dungeon — it was all staged. All of it, so he could hand me over to a monster and call it politics. Kai whimpered against my chest. I folded the contract and tucked it into my coat. Then I walked out of the packhouse, into the snow, and didn’t look back.

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I hid my power. I chained the wolf within. All for him. My blood-bound mate, Lord Caius. But when I went into labor and the contractions hit, I was locked away in the abandoned altar beneath the castle. Magical restraints carved with confinement runes bound me tightly. The contractions were getting worse. I cried, begging Caius. “The baby’s coming, Caius. Please, get me to the Sanctuary… It’s our child…” He just stepped forward, elegant and cruel. He forced a black pill into my mouth. “The Blood-Binding Elixir,” he said. “It will delay your labor. Be a good girl. I have to make sure you give birth after Isadora.” Instantly, invisible threads seemed to tighten around my veins, strangling them. Blood soaked my dress. The pain was so intense my wolf spirit screamed, a howl trapped in my throat. “Why…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You are a wolf. An outsider,” Caius’s voice echoed in the cold abandoned altar. “Isadora carries the true heir. A pure-blood. My dead brother’s only legacy. Tonight is the Blood Moon’s Blessing, granted once in a thousand years. Only a child blessed tonight can become the next Lord. I won’t let you steal that from her.” Then he dissolved into black mist, leaving me behind to go to Isadora. I closed my eyes. The tiny life force thrashing inside me suddenly went still. I slipped into darkness. …… A tearing pain in my belly ripped me from the darkness. The cold stone of the magical array was hard against my back. I struggled to sit up. Another contraction slammed into me, harder than anything I’d ever felt. My wolf spirit whimpered in agony. “The baby… My baby is coming! Help me!” I screamed, biting back the pain. “Still putting on a show?” Lilith stepped into the dim light, her crimson eyes glittering with malice. Caius’s little sister. “Isadora’s potions never fail. She made that Blood-Binding Elixir herself. It will stop your labor for four hours, guaranteed.” She lifted a finger, her hand open in the air between us, aimed at my heart. She slowly made a fist. “The Ancestor’s Blessing, the title of Lord… it all belongs to Isadora!” A roar filled my ears. My own blood turned on me, boiling and surging backward through my veins until I thought they would burst. I gagged, coughing up a clot of blood that felt like ice. A deep chill settled over me. “I never wanted to be Lord!” I shook my head, desperate. “Don’t lie!” Lilith’s fingers snapped shut. Invisible magic choked me, forcing my head up to meet her gaze. “You think we’re all fools? The moment you learned the blessed child would be the next Lord, you started hurting Isadora! Your ambition is pathetic. Obvious.” She released me, and I collapsed. She stood over me, looking down. “You tricked Isadora. Lured her to the Star-Gazing Tower. You used your wolf strength to open the sun-shielding dome, didn’t you? You tried to burn her and the baby alive!” No… that’s not what happened! Isadora came to me that day. Crying. She said she missed Liam’s presence so much, and begged me to go with her to the tower, to feel closer to him. The moment we got there, she used her vampire speed to push me away, threw open the dome herself, and held her own arm in the sunlight until it burned. Then she clutched her stomach and screamed that I was trying to kill her child. … I had a thousand things to say, a thousand ways to defend myself. But the agony from the elixir intensified, and all I could do was curl into a ball. “Please… let me go… The baby is really coming…” I sobbed, reaching for her. Lilith slapped my hand away. “Why are you still acting?” “The Blood-Binding Elixir doesn’t fail,” she sneered. “You’ll wait your turn. After Isadora is finished, you can have your little mutt.” “No… please…” I struggled, but the magical restraints only bit deeper, the energy searing the skin on my wrists. “Isadora warned me you’d pull a stunt like this.” A dark red light glowed at Lilith’s fingertips. “If you try another one,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “I’ll drain every drop of blood from your body and leave you a dried-up corpse. Understand?” She motioned to the blood-servants behind her to watch me. Then she turned and left. As the heavy door slammed shut, I felt the warm, sticky wetness spread beneath me. Blood. So much blood. My dress was soaked, my limbs bound by magic. I couldn’t move. The lock clicked. The finality of it hit me. I was completely, utterly alone. Three months ago, Caius had taken my communication crystal, claiming it was to “prevent hunters from tracking me.” Now I knew the truth. He was cutting me off from everyone. I was a lone wolf with no pack, no status. I was never truly one of them. I tried to stop crying, to focus, but the pain made it impossible to breathe. A new wave of contractions hit, stronger than the last. My head spun. I was about to pass out. I remembered the nightmare seven months ago. Caius’s brother, the Lord, was ambushed and killed on a hunt. When Isadora announced she was pregnant, the whole coven breathed a sigh of relief. The bloodline would continue. Overnight, my child and I became a threat. A sin. They all watched me, terrified the outsider would harm Isadora. Every time she accused me of something, Caius believed her without hesitation. The pain made me thrash, fighting against the magical restraints until my wrists and ankles were burned raw and bleeding. And then, a miracle. The confinement runes on one of the restraints shattered. I dragged myself across the floor, leaving a trail of blood. I pounded on the door with my free, bleeding hand. “Please! The baby’s coming!” “Shut up in there!” a guard yelled back. “Wait until Lady Isadora is done!” Then I heard voices. A magical projection. Caius and Lilith. “How is Isadora?” Lilith asked. Caius’s voice was tired. “Another two hours, at least. How is Rowan? Is she behaving?” “Don’t even ask,” Lilith scoffed. “She’s locked in the abandoned altar, and she’s still putting on a performance. Crying that she’s in labor. What an actress.” Her tone turned venomous. “Wait, Caius. Are you actually worried about her? Don’t forget she’s the one who stole the labor-inducing potion from Isadora’s room, trying to force an early birth to steal the blessing.” “No… I never stole anything…” I whispered to the empty room. “I haven’t forgotten,” Caius’s voice was laced with disgust. “Isadora promised me the elixir would only delay the birth, not harm her. Let her suffer. It’s a lesson she needs to learn. Nothing can happen to Isadora, or to Liam’s child.” The voices cut off. The abandoned altar was silent again. I collapsed on the floor, cold to the bone. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the despair.

I don’t know how long I lay there. The pool of blood beneath me grew larger. I was fading, drifting away, when the door suddenly burst open. “Gods above!” a familiar voice cried out. Healer Alistair. The Alucard family’s head healer. The only one who had treated me throughout my pregnancy. He rushed to my side, dropping to his knees in my blood. His trembling hands felt for my pulse. “Lady Rowan!” His face was white with horror. “What in the gods’ name are you doing down here?! Lady Lilith told me you were merely anxious and resting!” “Lilith—” I gasped. “She locked me in here—” “Don’t talk.” Alistair lifted my blood-soaked skirt to check me. His expression turned to one of pure terror. “Gods, you’re fully dilated! Your water has broken… and you’re hemorrhaging! We have to move. Now!” He tried to use his communication crystal. The screen flashed: NO SIGNAL. “Damn this shielding matrix!” he swore. He looked at me, his eyes wide with urgency. “My Lady, I have to get you to the Healing Sanctuary. Right now.” The vampire guards outside tried to stop him as he carried me out. “Halt! Lady Lilith said—” “Lady Lilith said WHAT?” Alistair roared, his voice filled with a healer’s authority. “To let a woman in labor bleed to death in the abandoned altar? Get out of my way!” The guards actually flinched and stepped back. Alistair stumbled through the halls with me in his arms, a gruesome trail of blood marking our path. “Hold on,” he panted. “The top floor has the best equipment. We’re almost there.” The castle stairs seemed to stretch on forever. Every step was a new wave of agony. My vision was blurring, but I could feel my baby fighting, struggling to be born. “How much longer?” I whispered. “Two minutes,” Alistair said, his eyes fixed on the top of the spiral staircase. “Just two more minutes.” We finally reached the top floor. He kicked open the door to the private, luxurious Healing Sanctuary— It was open. We burst inside, and then we both froze. The room was empty. The state-of-the-art magical medical equipment—all of it was gone. The life-monitoring arrays, the shadowless light orbs, the auto-regeneration blood pool, even the birthing bed. Gone. Nothing remained but four bare walls and a few shattered power crystals on the floor. “This is impossible,” Alistair whispered, standing stunned in the doorway. “Where is the equipment?” Footsteps echoed from the hall. Lilith appeared, flanked by her servants. “Oh, the equipment?” she said breezily. “It’s all been moved to Isadora’s suite.” Alistair’s face went even paler. “What?” “Isadora is birthing the one true heir of the Alucard line,” Lilith said, her words sharp. “A pure-blood. She gets our best resources. Obviously.” “But Lady Rowan is also in labor!” Alistair yelled. “She needs an emergency intervention!” Lilith glanced at me, then shrugged. “Stop the act, Rowan. The elixir is harmless. You’re just desperate for attention. Trying to disrupt Isadora’s moment.” I stared at her perfectly made-up face. I suddenly remembered a year ago, when I gave her a rare, ancient book from my collection to help her with her blood magic. She had hugged me, her voice filled with joy. “Rowan, you’re like a real sister to me!” How ironic.

Alistair laid me on the bare floor of the empty sanctuary and ran out to find supplies. He came back two minutes later. Empty-handed. His face was ashen. “The potion storage is empty,” he stammered. “Not even a basic hemostatic herb. No bandages. Nothing.” Lilith let out a small, cruel laugh. “Oh, those? Also sent to Isadora. Caius’s orders.” “This is murder!” Alistair shouted. “She’ll die! The child will die!” “Then that is their fate,” Lilith said with a cold shrug. “The coven comes first.” Alistair knelt beside me, taking my hand. “My Lady, I am so sorry,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “I have no equipment, no potions, nothing.” “Then use your hands!” I screamed, grabbing his collar. “Use anything!” “I can’t risk it. Without a magical barrier, without tools to stop the bleeding—” “Enough of this pathetic drama! Take him away!” Lilith suddenly barked. Two guards entered the room, grabbed Alistair by the arms, and began to drag him out. “Listen to me!” Alistair yelled back at me. “Remember the pressure point I showed you? The one on your abdomen? Push on it! It will stimulate the contractions! You have to push with everything you have on the next one—” The door slammed shut. It was just me and Lilith again. She took out a scrying mirror made of blood-crystal and opened a channel. “Caius?” Her voice was instantly wounded and frail. “You need to see this. Your precious mate is putting on another show for us.” She turned the mirror towards me. I saw Caius’s face. He was standing in the bright hallway of another, fully equipped sanctuary. His expensive clothes were disheveled, his brow furrowed with exhaustion. When he saw me lying in a pool of my own blood, a flicker of shock and horror crossed his face before it was replaced by ice. “What is going on with her?” His voice was tight, cold. “What do you think? It’s an act,” Lilith said casually. “She’s bled a little, but Alistair is always so dramatic. I think she’s just trying to force you to come to her.” Caius’s jaw tightened as he stared at me through the mirror. Just then, a weak voice called from his side of the connection. Isadora. “Caius… who is that…? Is it Rowan? Is she… is she blaming me again?” “It’s nothing. Don’t be distracted,” Caius soothed her instantly, but his eyes on me grew colder. “Caius!” I screamed with my last bit of strength. “Help me… the baby… the baby is really coming!” “Rowan, stop it,” he said, his expression unchanged. “Isadora is struggling. The Ancestor’s Blessing… it’s causing a bloodline rejection. The healers are fighting to save her. She is the coven’s priority.” “But I—” “I’ll deal with you when I’m done here,” he cut me off coldly. Through the mirror, I saw him turn to stroke Isadora’s forehead. “You deserve to pay for what you’ve done.” The mirror went black. Lilith put it away, looking pleased. “See?” she said, squatting down in front of me, her eyes filled with triumph and cruelty. “In Caius’s heart, what are you? A pathetic lone wolf who slept her way into his bed for protection. A birthing tool. And now, you’re not even useful for that.” She stood up, her voice a final judgment. “You thought marrying into the Alucard Coven was your ticket to the top? You and your mutt are just trash that needs to be taken out.” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at her anymore. My body was soaked in blood, but my hand secretly moved to the necklace around my neck. The moonstone pendant my father gave me. My last resort. They all thought I was just a lone wolf. No pack. A nobody running a broken-down bookstore. Of course they did. They couldn’t sense the royal blood sleeping inside me. The Alpha blood I had sealed away. I loved him, so I chose to give up my birthright. What a stupid joke that turned out to be. “If you are ever in danger from which there is no escape,” my father had told me on the day I left my pack, “crush this. Every wolf of our kind will feel your call.” My fingers found the tiny trigger inside the pendant. Lilith’s voice was still droning on. “…Isadora always said you were manipulative. I actually defended you. I was such a fool. A stray wolf who married for power. Who knows what you were really plotting.” With the last of my strength, I crushed the trigger. There was no sound. No flash of light. But I knew. The signal had been sent. “In half an hour,” my father’s voice echoed in my memory, “my Royal Guard will tear this world apart to find you.” But my baby… Could my child hold on until my people arrived?

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The Obsidian Claw Pack lives by one cruel, unspoken rule. If an Alpha wants to take a chosen mate, the original Mate must publicly surrender her title. She has to take the Luna’s moonstone necklace off her own neck and place it upon the new woman. The day Julian brought Vanessa to our territory, the whole Pack was waiting for me to lose my mind from the agony of his betrayal. I was his Fated Mate. We’d been in love for seven years. I survived bloody trials to earn this necklace. I took a lethal strike from a rival Alpha meant for his heart. Everyone was sure I’d rather die from the agony of a damaged bond than give up my title. But when Vanessa showed off the temporary Mate mark on her neck, I just calmly took off the necklace. And put it on her myself. Julian swirled the wine in his glass. His predatory eyes were filled with arrogance and satisfaction. “Valerie,” he said. “You’re finally learning your place.” I looked down, my hand on my now-bare collarbone. I chose to obey. But arrogant Julian was a fool. He had no idea. A month ago, a fever brought all my memories back. I wasn’t a Rogue. I’m the lost daughter of the Northern Alpha King. Missing for seven years. In three days, my brother’s Royal Guard is coming to the territory border. They’re coming to take me home. …… It was the Obsidian Claw Pack’s full moon feast. Vanessa tilted her long neck, showing off the ceremonial moonstone necklace to the high-ranking she-wolves around her. Gasps went through the crowd. Then their mocking eyes landed on me in the corner. Julian sat in the Alpha’s seat, his dark eyes flicking my way now and then. After basking in their admiration, Vanessa sauntered over to me, a glass of blood-moon wine in hand. Her eyes fell to my wrist. To the lapis lazuli bracelet he had made for me three years ago. The Moon Goddess runes carved inside were the only thing keeping my wolf’s agonized whimpers over her Mate’s rejection from ripping out of my throat. The only thing keeping me from breaking down in front of them all. Vanessa chuckled, leaning close to my ear. “Valerie, you gave up the necklace. Don’t you think you should give up the rest of the Luna’s jewelry, too?” She reached out, trying to snatch the bracelet. I flinched away. In a flash, she sloshed the deep red wine from her glass all over my dress. A glaring crimson stain bloomed on the white silk. The room gasped. Vanessa stumbled, dropping her glass. It shattered on the floor. She let out a sharp cry, dragging her palm across a shard of glass. A thin red line welled up instantly. “Valerie… why did you push me?” She clutched the nearly invisible cut, her eyes welling with tears as if on cue. “I just wanted to talk to you…” The hall went dead silent. Every wolf’s eyes were on us. For the past seven years, I’d thrown out any she-wolf who tried to get near Julian or challenge me. No mercy. I once threw an Omega who tried to seduce him into the pool in front of the whole pack. This time, before I could even speak, the Alpha’s power slammed into me. It forced my wolf to her knees. A sharp pain shot through our mate bond as it was violently tugged. I bit my tongue to keep from collapsing. “Valerie.” Julian’s voice came from behind me, cold as ice. He strode over, pulling Vanessa into his arms. He examined her hand, which was already healing, his brow furrowed. Then he looked up at me. The eyes I once loved more than anything were filled with disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you now? I just brought Vanessa here. Why are you going after her?” His Alpha command intensified. His tone was laced with accusation, his concern entirely for her. I met his disgusted gaze, fighting the dull ache of our bond being rejected. I didn’t say a word. I just slowly unclasped the bracelet from my wrist. I heard my wolf let out a hopeless whimper. As the pack watched in shock, I held the bracelet out to Vanessa. “You like it? It’s yours. I’m sorry, I lost my balance.” Julian’s brow twitched. A flash of shock in his eyes. Vanessa froze too, forgetting to cry. I took out a handkerchief, wiped the wine from my hands, and knelt down. Every eye in the hall was glued to my back. I picked up the scattered shards of glass. The sharp edges cut my fingers. Drops of blood seeped out, mixing with the red wine on my dress. I couldn’t tell where the wine ended and my blood began. When I was done, I stood up and looked at Julian. “My dress is ruined. I’m going upstairs to change.” I turned and walked to the second floor, my back straight. Julian’s eyes never left my back. Back in my room, I shut the door. I leaned against it and closed my eyes. Julian Thorne. For seven years, my loyalty was yours. Today, that devotion dies.

My phone lit up. A message from my brother. “Val, the Royal Guard is moving. East border. Three days. Dawn.” “What Julian owes you… I’ll make him repay it. A hundred times over.” I stared at the words, my eyes suddenly hot. I traced the word “brother” on the screen. Just as I was about to reply, the door was thrown open. Julian stormed in, snatched the phone from my hand, and threw it on the rug. I looked up. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were a storm of warring emotions—scrutiny, suspicion, and a flicker of something I couldn’t name. Anxiety. “Valerie.” His thumb dug into my jaw. “What was that tonight?” “What was what?” I asked. “You gave her the necklace. You gave her the bracelet.” His eyes darkened. “You’re not going to fight?” I stared at him. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” My voice was flat, empty. “A graceful, obedient former Luna.” Julian’s pupils contracted. He stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly let go, pulling me into his arms. The scent of pine and forest surrounded me. A smell I once thought I could breathe in forever. But now, it was tainted by the cloying, sickly sweet perfume of Vanessa. The mix made my stomach turn. Julian lowered his head, his lips brushing my ear. “Valerie, I know you were wronged today. But her wolf was nearly shattered saving me. I owe her this. As long as you behave, there will always be a room for you in the Pack House.” It was a promise. An insult disguised as charity. He thought I should be grateful. A frantic knock came at the door. Vanessa’s weak voice drifted through the wood. “Julian, my wolf feels sick… Where are you… Can you come be with me?” Julian’s body went rigid. He let me go. Without hesitation. Without another word. He walked to the door, then paused. “Oh,” he said, his back still to me. “That moon-silk gown in your closet. I want Vanessa to wear it to the alliance banquet tomorrow.” My breath caught. The moon-silk gown. My precious from our mating ceremony five years ago. He had spent a fortune on the world’s last remaining moon-silk. Every stitch was infused with moonlight and the blood of our vows. It was his promise that I would be his one and only mate for life. Last year, I banished a new Omega from the territory just for getting a smudge on that dress. Julian had praised me then, saying what was mine, no one else could touch. Now, he was telling me to give it to Vanessa. My nails dug into my palms, reopening the cuts from the broken glass. Blood welled up again. I looked at his expectant face and slowly nodded. “Fine. I’ll have it sent over tomorrow.” Julian’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. Then he opened the door and hurried to a crying Vanessa. I heard his soft voice comforting her down the hall, followed by the click of the room next door closing. I walked to my desk, pulled out a calendar, and picked up a red marker. I drew a heavy X over today’s date. Two days until my brother comes for me. I slipped out of the wine-stained dress and stepped into the bathroom. Hot water streamed over my body. I stared at my pale face in the mirror. Below my right breast, a vicious old scar crossed my ribs. Five years ago, a rival Alpha swiped for Julian’s heart. I jumped in front of him. The pack healer said another inch and I would have been dead. Behind my left shoulder blade, there’s a dark spot that will never fade. Two years ago, during the moonstone mine border dispute, a silver wolfsbane bullet went through me. It won him a mine worth millions a year. … There were other scars. Too many. Seven years ago, he found me injured, with no memory, and took me in. I repaid him with seven years of loyalty and love. Julian. My debts to you are paid. We are even.

The next morning, I had a maid take the dress box to Vanessa’s room. Ten minutes later, the sharp sound of scissors echoed from the end of the hall. I was walking by with a cup of tea when I saw her. Vanessa was sitting in front of a mirror, a pair of scissors in her hand. The moon-silk gown was spread across her lap. She was cutting it, blade by blade, slicing off the intricate moon-flower pattern on the hem. “This style is ancient,” she sneered to her maids. “How could Julian let me, the future Luna, wear this? I’d be a laughingstock at the banquet.” She looked up and saw me. A flicker of defiance in her eyes. “Don’t you think so, Valerie?” I didn’t answer. I carried my tea and walked toward the medical wing. Five years ago, Julian survived an assassination attempt by a Rogue on the border. The Pack Healer removed the silver wolfsbane bullet, but the toxins had seeped into his blood. When it flared up, his wolf would tear himself apart in agony. For seven years, every single morning, I came here to brew a wolfsbane suppressant. Three hours later, the deep green potion bubbled in its vial, smelling of cool moon-petal herbs. I wrapped the bottle in a cloth and walked toward his study. I was still thirty feet away when I heard voices. It was his Beta, Cedric. “Julian, moving Vanessa into the master suite… isn’t it too soon? The pack sees everything the Luna has done for you these seven years. If you keep this up, she’s really going to leave.” A short silence. Then Julian laughed, a cold, soft sound. “Leave? Where would she go? She was a stray I found half-frozen in a blizzard. I’m going to break that pride of hers. Make her understand who the real Alpha is. Once she accepts reality and learns her place, I’ll give her a spot in the pack. Make sure she’s taken care of.” The Beta sighed. “If you keep humiliating her, don’t you worry she’ll finally give up on you?” Julian scoffed. “Give up? The only thing Valerie knows is how to cling to me. She’s like a vine that can’t survive without its tree. She would never leave me.” The tray in my hands tilted. The scalding potion spilled over the back of my hand. An angry red mark bloomed on my skin. I felt nothing. I calmly placed the tray outside his door, walked to the sink at the end of the hall, and poured three hours of painstaking work down the drain. Just then, Vanessa appeared, wearing the butchered moon-silk gown. The hem was ragged, like a dog had chewed it. She saw me and a smirk spread across her face. “Oh, Valerie, I forgot to tell you. Julian wants me to move into the top-floor master suite tonight. He says it will help my wolf heal. You’ll need to get your things out by today.” The master suite of the Pack House. I had lived there for five years. It was filled with every trace of my life with Julian. I looked at Vanessa’s gloating face and nodded. “Okay.” I walked into the master suite. I didn’t take any jewelry. I didn’t take the diamonds, emeralds, or rare gems Julian had bought for me. I only took the tattered clothes I was wearing when I first arrived. As I was about to leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My brother. “Val, your commoner file in the Werewolf Council archives has been wiped clean. Your royal status will be restored. Soon, no one will ever be able to bother you again.” I changed into my old, worn-out clothes and walked out of the master suite. Then, I moved into the darkest, dustiest corner of the Pack House: the basement storage room. It was a forgotten junk room. Not even the lowest-ranking Omega would willingly spend a minute here. I sat there, watching the northern stars through the grimy window. Twelve hours left until I leave the Obsidian Claw territory.

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In the midst of the Full Moon Banquet, Damien Blackwood was caught in the act of secretly mating with someone. The door was slammed open, and the room was thick with the scent of desire. Damien lay on the bed, clothes in disarray, chest rising and falling, a woman’s chemise draped across him. My best friend Elena had brought me over at that exact moment. She covered her mouth and gasped, “Aurelia, isn’t that your chemise?” All eyes turned to me at once. Damien slowly sat up, running his fingers through his messy hair. “Aurelia and I… we’ve been in love for months. I just didn’t expect her to be so desperate today. She drugged me, and then we…” In our pack, mating without an official ceremony is a grave crime. His words were a death sentence for me. Luna Vivien charged me with breaking pack law. I was sentenced to thirty lashes with a silver whip and thrown into the wolf prison, where I died in agony. That same day, Elena and Damien’s mating ceremony was held. On the seventh day after my death, Damien stood before my grave and threw that chemise into the fire. “Aurelia, I wronged you. It all happened too suddenly. I had no choice but to use you as an excuse. Blame your bad fate.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the Full Moon Banquet. The music from the banquet jolted me awake. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I realized I had been reborn, back at the Full Moon Banquet. My gaze cut across the hall to the east room. Soon, Damien’s secret mating would be exposed. The nightmare from my last life was about to replay. My maid Lily looked at me, worried. “Aurelia, what’s wrong?” I took Lily to a quiet corner. After a few whispered words, her expression turned serious. She nodded at once and rushed off. When I returned to the banquet, a werewolf ran up to the Luna. “Luna, in the east room, someone is secretly mating.” Luna led the crowd toward the east room. Just then, Elena walked over like she did in my last life and grabbed my hand, trying to pull me along. I didn’t move. Elena said, “Aurelia, what’s wrong? I heard something happened. Let’s go take a look.” I looked at her slightly messy hair, and a wave of disgust rose in my chest. In my last life, she said the banquet was too noisy, so she had been outside taking a walk, that was why she came in from outside. Turns out, she had been secretly mating with Damien. When they were discovered, she rushed out of the room and tried to pin everything on me. This time, I wouldn’t let them get away with it. I said, “It’s nothing. Let’s go. I hear there’s a surprise.” Inside the room, Damien lay on the bed just like in my last life, clothes in disarray, a chemise resting on his chest. Someone said, “Oh my God…” “Doesn’t Damien not have a mate yet?” Damien clearly didn’t expect to be caught like this. His face flushed as he sat on the bed, clutching that chemise tightly in his hand. Elena looked at me in disbelief. “Aurelia, isn’t that your chemise?” Her sharp cry made everyone turn their eyes to me. As soon as she finished, she seemed to realize she had said something wrong. She covered her mouth and looked at me with fake apology. I said nothing. Damien looked at me with a tender gaze. Blushing, he hurried to explain to everyone, “Aurelia and I… we’ve been in love for months. I just didn’t expect her to be so desperate today. She drugged me, and then we…” Just like in my last life, with one sentence, he destroyed me completely.. The way people looked at me turned strange. Whispers spread through the crowd as they pointed at me. “Oh my God, who would’ve thought Aurelia is so shameless.” “Luna even praised her as the finest she-wolf in the pack. Didn’t expect her to do something as low as drugging someone.”

I forced myself to stay calm, looked at Damien, and let out a cold laugh. “Damien, you can eat whatever you want, but you can’t just say anything you like. Whoever you were mating with, don’t pin it on me.” “We’ve never spoken more than ten words to each other. Where did this so-called loss of control even come from?” “Besides, Ashford family is a noble bloodline of the pack. Whenever I go out, I am always followed by a group of maids. I never have the chance to be alone with you, let alone mate with you.” “The Ashford doesn’t allow you to smear it.” As soon as I finished speaking, the crowd started to react. That was right. The Ashford family was one of the oldest and purest werewolf bloodlines in the pack, second only to the Alpha family in status. Their rules were strict beyond imagination. A she-wolf from Ashford would never do something like this. Damien’s expression turned ugly. His face shifted pale as he clenched that chemise tightly in his hand. Elena stood beside me, pretending to be my close friend, and said softly, “But Aurelia, didn’t you always like Damien?” “At the last Autumn Hunt Festival, you praised him for his strength and said he had a bright future. Everyone there knew you admired him.” “And that fabric of the chemise… it was a gift from the Luna. No one else has it except you.” Her words were clearly pointed. The fabric was a gift from the Luna, and only I had it, so that chemise should have been mine. But I just let out a light laugh. “You’re right. But Elena, did you forget something? On your birthday, you said you liked the color of this fabric. I specially made a same to you.” “There isn’t only one piece of it in the pack. You have one too.” Elena’s face turned pale, and her voice became sharp. “What are you talking about? A she-wolf’s purity is important. Are you trying to say I have something going on with Damien?” “I don’t even know Damien. How could it be mine?” I pressed forward step by step. “Yes, a she-wolf’s purity is important. You knew that very well, and yet without even looking closely, you shouted in front of everyone that it was my chemise.” “Those who know you would think you are just impulsive. Those who don’t might think you and Damien are hiding something and trying to drag me down with you.” Tears fell from Elena’s eyes. “Aurelia, I’m just an orphan. Alpha took me in out of pity. You gave me that chemise made from such fine fabric, I’ve never even worn it. How could it end up in another man’s hands?” A female wolf couldn’t hold it in and spoke up. “Aurelia, you’ve gone too far. Elena is your friend, and yet you are treating her like this.” I looked at her. “I’m bullying her? If she said that chemise was yours, would you still gladly accept it?” The she-wolf was instantly speechless, then quickly said, “But Elena already said it. That fabric was given to you by the Luna. Who else could it belong to?” I glanced at the doubtful faces around me and let out a laugh. “That piece of fabric, I used it to make a dress. The remaining was used to make two chemises. One was given to Elena, and one is still at my home.” “The one in Damien’s hands is definitely not mine. I can take mine out. Can Elena take hers out?” Elena’s face went pale, and she didn’t dare say a word. Damien quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. “Alright, Aurelia, I know it was my fault. I shouldn’t have drunk the wine knowing it was drugged and then secretly mated with you. I apologize.”

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One week before our wedding, my fiancé announced he wanted to climb Mount Everest — to declare his love for me from the highest point on earth. I was touched, but still planned to talk him out of it, to suggest waiting until after the wedding. Then I accidentally overheard him talking to a few of his hiking buddies: “Ethan, your phone has a GPS tracker on it. You actually want us to take it up to Everest and toss it out there?” “Your fiancée is going to be beside herself with worry. What if she goes into the mountains looking for you?” “Seriously, man. You two are about to get married. Pulling this fake-death stunt is just going to make her suffer for nothing.” Ethan listened with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t help it. There’s this girl I’ve been seeing. She’s nearly ten months along, and I need to be there for her. Going off the grid for a while is the only way.” “Everest is a dead zone. Even if she begs for a rescue, they’re not going to mount a major operation.” “Just make sure you throw the phone down toward the base of the mountain — make it look like I fell.” His hiking buddies exchanged glances. “Ethan, aren’t you afraid she’ll stop waiting and just… move on? Find someone else?” Ethan gave a short, scornful laugh. “Move on? Please. After six years of my psychological conditioning, combined with that hopeless romantic heart of hers — even if I actually died, she’d choose to stay single. She waited six years already. One more year is nothing. I’ll come back, say the right things, and she’ll fall right back into line.” Standing outside the door, I slowly loosened my grip on the handle. So his “pre-wedding adventure” was an adventure with another woman. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t cancel the wedding, either. I just found myself a different groom. …… At seven o’clock that evening, Ethan came home, a bag of strawberries — my favorite — dangling from his hand. “Olivia, I need to talk to you about something.” He set the strawberries on the coffee table, sat down, and put on his most sincere face. “Remember I told you I wanted to climb Everest next week? To let our love be as eternal as the ice and snow at the top of the world. Realistically, it’ll take at least a month — which means we’d miss our wedding date.” He paused, heaving a calculated sigh. “The venue’s booked for the end of May. If I’m not back in time, or if I’m not in the right shape for it, the ceremony won’t be what we want. Maybe we should… push it back?” I said nothing. Seeing no reaction, he leaned forward. “When I do the math, even if I get out by mid-May, I’d still need recovery time. The photos, the fittings, the invitations — none of it would work. Better to let everyone know now than scramble at the last minute. I’ll send a message to all the family and friends today — let them know the wedding’s canceled.” “Canceled?” I repeated the word softly. I wasn’t sure if I was asking him or telling myself. After all, I had waited nine entire years for this wedding. Six years ago, he’d said: *Wait until my career is stable, then we’ll get married.* I believed him. Four years ago, he’d said: *Once I meet your parents, we’ll set a date.* I even pushed my parents into it. Two years ago, he’d said: *Just wait a little longer. Don’t rush.* This year, my parents had resorted to calling three times a week in rotating shifts. I was in my thirties. I didn’t want to keep floating in the limbo of “fiancée” forever. I wanted to get married, build a career, get promoted, start a family — to finally turn that page of my life. But Ethan never seemed to feel any urgency. The day we booked the wedding venue, I was so happy I treated my entire team to afternoon tea. My mother had booked a flight the same night, calling to say she was coming to help. And now, with a single breezy word — *canceled* — he reduced every single person’s hopes to dust. He was spouting noble nonsense about our “love,” but knowing what I knew, all I felt was disgust. The irony was so sharp I couldn’t even force out a word of accusation. I opened my mouth, about to ask, *Do you have any idea how much this means to my mother?* — and swallowed it back down. Because he had already lowered his head and was typing on his phone, sending a mass message about the canceled wedding. He hadn’t even glanced at me once. When he finally put the phone down, he reached over and ruffled my hair. “Once I’m back from Everest, we’ll pick a new date. We’re both still young — no need to rush things, right?” I looked into his eyes. The only thing echoing in my mind was what I’d heard that afternoon: *”I’ll come back, say the right things, and she’ll fall right back into line.”* So that was it. The first step of “saying the right things” was erasing the wedding so cleanly it left no trace. “Ethan,” I said quietly, “Everest is dangerous. People die up there. If you die, then everything is gone. Are you sure you want to go?”

My voice was completely steady. It was the last chance I was giving him. He blinked, then broke into a warm smile, cupping my face in both hands like he was coaxing a child. “Olivia. You know me. I’ve always wanted to challenge myself.” “This is my last wish before we get married. You wouldn’t want me to carry this regret into our marriage, would you?” I didn’t pull away. But I didn’t smile either. “I connected with a few experienced hikers a while back,” he continued. “Real professionals — they’ve all done high-altitude climbs before. Oh, and just so you know, the signal up there can be pretty bad, so if you can’t reach me, don’t panic.” His eyes drifted slightly to the side as he said that last part. In the end, I nodded. “Okay.” He blinked — clearly surprised I’d agreed so easily. “You’re not upset?” “You said it yourself. Last wish before the wedding. I support you.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss my forehead. I turned my head toward the strawberries and reached for one. He didn’t notice the dodge. Undeterred, he launched enthusiastically into his “route plan” — south col versus north ridge, Nepal, base camps. I ate strawberries and nodded along, smiling on the surface while laughing coldly inside. Impressive — he’d even rehearsed the details to make the whole act convincing. Meanwhile, one sentence kept looping through my mind: *”The girl’s nearly ten months along, she’s been a mess.”* The girl. Who was she? Ethan was the kind of man who’d always had women circling him — wealthy, handsome, born into privilege. I used to lie awake worrying I’d eventually be replaced. That fear was part of why I’d spent years pushing for marriage. And now that I knew I actually had been replaced? I felt nothing. Just a hollow, distant numbness. I had no idea who she was, and I wasn’t going to ask. He talked for a long time, then tacked on a final promise: “When I come back, I’ll bring you a stone from the foot of Everest. The sea of clouds up there is supposed to be breathtaking.” “Sounds nice,” I said. He went off to shower, satisfied. I sat on the sofa and picked up my phone. I scrolled to my father’s messages. The last one had been sent back when Ethan and I still hadn’t set a date: *That young man came by with the matchmaker again this year. Said he’s still waiting on your word. He’s been at this for seven years now, Olivia. If nothing else works out, maybe give him a chance.* I remembered vaguely hearing about this man — the village’s most infamous mystery. Allegedly, he’d “gotten into trouble” in the city years ago and never come back. Some whispered he’d been in prison. Every single year, like clockwork, he’d send the same matchmaker to my family’s door. My father would say, “My daughter has a boyfriend in the city,” and the matchmaker would smile pleasantly and leave — only to return the following year. I’d always thought the man was eccentric. I’d never given any of it a second thought. But tonight, reading that message, I suddenly saw it differently. Seven years. Every single year, without fail. A man who showed up year after year — quietly, persistently, without demands — was a hundred times more reliable than a man who whispered *”wait until after we’re married, then everything will be settled,”* while secretly planning to vanish for a year to take care of someone else’s pregnancy. The sound of the shower ran in the background. I lowered my head and typed a reply to my father: *Dad, tell the matchmaker. Let him come this year.* I locked the screen, rested the phone face-down on my knee, and stared at the ceiling. Three years dating. Six years engaged. Ethan always thought I was just “a little impatient.” He had no idea that I had passed impatient a long time ago. I was done waiting.

That night, after Ethan fell asleep, his phone lit up on the nightstand. I reached over to silence it — and saw the message. *Ethan, I’ve been sick again today. When are you coming to take care of me? The baby and I both miss you!* The contact name was saved as “Little Deer.” My hand hovered in the air for two full seconds. Then I picked up his phone and opened the conversation thread. There was only one message — the one she’d just sent. He must clean the chat every day. I hesitated for a moment, then clicked into her profile. Her most recent post was two photos of pregnancy tests. The caption: *Two lines. I’m in shock.* The timestamp was the same afternoon Ethan and I had confirmed our wedding date. Three o’clock. So on the very day he booked the wedding venue with me, he had been celebrating becoming a father with another woman. How perfectly symmetrical. I set the phone down. I went to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and drank it slowly. When I came back, he had rolled over. His arm was draped loosely over his eyes. He mumbled my name — “Olivia…” — in a sleepy, faraway voice. I didn’t move. Something flickered across his face. His brow creased. When he spoke again, his voice was thick and nasal, the way it only got when he was deep in a dream. “I just dreamed… that I disappeared, and you didn’t even wait. You just turned around and married someone else…” He said it like it had frightened him. He unconsciously shifted toward my side of the bed. The old me would have wrapped my arms around him immediately, would have said something embarrassingly sincere like *”I’ll never leave you.”* But I just looked at him. “Go to sleep.” He half-opened one eye, studying me with drowsy suspicion. He seemed dissatisfied with my response. I was already too exhausted to manage his moods. I rolled over and went to sleep. The next morning, the doorbell rang early. Three hiking buddies showed up with enormous packs, crowding into the entryway. “Ethan! I printed out the Everest route map — look, we go in through the south col, then to Base Camp, then the Khumbu Icefall up toward Camp One—” They spread the map across the coffee table, all talking at once. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, sipping soy milk, not saying a word. Ethan noticed the silence and came over, holding up the map. “Olivia, look — we planned every day, every kilometer. We have experience, we have a system. Nothing’s going to happen.” “Mmm,” I said, and kept sipping. He seemed vaguely uncomfortable. He started to say something else, but his phone rang. He stepped out to the balcony to take it. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out the words — only the occasional lilt of laughter. Soft. Playful. The three hiking buddies glanced at each other and very deliberately went back to studying the map. Two minutes later, Ethan came back in and said casually, “One of the new hires at the company. Just started. Little work question she didn’t understand.” He looked at me with the expectant patience of a man waiting to be interrogated. But I said nothing. I was thinking about “Little Deer.” He had hired a batch of management trainees earlier that year. One of them was a girl named Grace Harlow. I’d seen her once, downstairs from his office, when I’d come to pick him up for lunch. She wore her hair in a ponytail. When she smiled, she had two deep dimples. And when she spotted Ethan, her eyes lit up like lamps. At the time I’d said to him: “That girl’s sharp.” He’d smiled and said, “Yeah. The skill set’s a match.” Now I understood what he meant by that. “Olivia?” Ethan said, with a faint note of fishing in his tone. “You’re not curious what the question was?” “I don’t know anything about your business.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel and picked up my bag. “I’m going to the store. Carry on.” At the door, I glanced down at my vibrating phone. A message glowed on the screen: *Appointment confirmed — one week from today.* I typed back *okay*, and instantly Ethan’s hand shot out and snatched the phone. “One week from now? What for?”

He stared at the stranger’s profile picture, the chat log showing only two brief messages, and his brow knotted. “Who is this?” I answered calmly. “Someone who booked a spot for me. I have a life event to take care of next week.” I reached out to take the phone back. He didn’t give it. Instead, he caught my wrist, and his voice turned gentle. “What kind of life event? Olivia, are you still angry that I canceled the wedding next week?” “When I get back, I promise I’ll make it up to you — whatever kind of wedding you want, wherever you want for the honeymoon, just name it. Okay?” He poured on the sweetness, his tone warm as honey. The three hiking buddies pretended to study the map while their ears stood straight up. I was about to respond — when a figure stepped through the front courtyard gate. “Mr. Hayes, am I interrupting? I happened to be passing by. Wanted to ask for some time off.” Her voice was casual, as if she were walking into her own home. I went still. When I’d let the guys in earlier, I was certain I had locked that gate. She could walk in without a key. She’d clearly been here before. I thought, with a joyless inner smile: *When did my home become a triangle?* It had almost trapped the foolish woman who’d spent six years waiting inside it. “I need to take extended leave,” Grace Harlow continued, drifting into the living room with the ease of someone very comfortable here. “I’m going back home to rest. Might be away for… about a year.” Her gaze swept the room — touched briefly on the three hiking buddies — then landed on me, sweet as sugar. “Good morning, Ms. Reid.” Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “For leave requests, just send a message. You didn’t need to come all the way here.” “I was worried you’d miss it.” She reached into her bag and produced a thermos, holding it out to him with a winning smile. “I made you coffee. Ethiopian Geisha beans — thought you’d like it.” Ethan glanced at me. He didn’t take it. Grace, unfazed, simply set the thermos on the coffee table. It landed squarely on top of the Everest route map. One of the hiking buddies choked back a laugh. “The dedication of employees these days — coming all the way to the boss’s house just to file a PTO request.” Another buried his face in his water glass to hide a smirk. Grace acted as though she hadn’t heard. She turned to me, her gaze as bright and warm as the first time I’d seen her. “You don’t mind, do you, Ms. Reid? I’m so new at everything — Mr. Hayes has been so patient teaching me. I don’t know what I’d do without his guidance.” “I don’t mind.” I gave her a light smile. “He’s taught plenty of people. You’re not the first.” The brightness in her smile faltered — just for a moment. I turned to Ethan. “Phone. I’m going to the store.” He hesitated for two seconds, then handed it over. I took it and walked past Grace. At the coffee table, I glanced down at the thermos she’d placed there. “Freshly brewed coffee goes bad once it sits,” I said simply. “Remember to take that with you when you go. I don’t keep garbage in my home.” Grace’s carefully arranged expression crumbled. Her eyes went glassy. Her hand drifted — deliberately, I thought — to rest against her stomach. “Ms. Reid, I only wanted to thank Mr. Hayes for all he’s done for me… If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come again.” Ethan’s expression darkened. “Olivia.” His voice carried a clear edge of displeasure. “What is wrong with you? Could you not embarrass yourself like this?” I didn’t look at him. I opened the front door. “I’m exactly like this.” “You—” He took a step after me, then caught himself — the buddies and Grace were watching. He lowered his voice, sharp and clipped. “She just came to file a leave request. Was all that really necessary? Is this really your best? You think about nothing but getting married. Can you not function without a man?” The words left his mouth. His lips pressed shut, and he added, more stiffly: “The point is — I made a commitment to these guys, and I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. The wedding’s not gone, just delayed. Stop making a scene.” “Intimidating a girl like that. It just makes you look small.” “You’re completely right,” I said pleasantly. And I walked out without looking back. Behind me, one of the buddies said quietly, “Ethan — maybe go after her? You’re going to be away for weeks. Leaving things like this can’t be good.” Ethan didn’t move. “Go after her? So she can learn that throwing a fit works? Let her walk. When she comes crawling back, she can do it on her own.” The door shut behind me. Through the panel, I heard Ethan curse under his breath. I thought about every argument we’d ever had, and every make-up that followed. Every single time, I was the one who bent. He’d go cold — and within three days, I’d crack and text first. He’d sulk — and I’d cook his favorite meal and coax him out of it. He’d tell me I was too much — and I’d go quiet, swallow whatever I’d been feeling, and make myself smaller. I’d told myself that was what long relationships looked like. Compromise. Work. *Someone always has to be the one to step back.* But standing here now, I finally understood the truth. He had known Grace Harlow for less than six months. And in those months, he’d given her the promotion I had once dreamed of. He’d given her a child. He was willing to disappear for ten months — to fake his own death — just to be near her. In our entire relationship, even at its warmest, I had never once been treated with that kind of devotion. I had been asking to have a child for years. He had always been scrupulously, almost obsessively careful. He hadn’t been careful because he didn’t want children. He’d been careful because he didn’t want children with me. Looking back now, I could see it — the pattern of the last six months. Later nights. More secretive texts. I’d told myself he was just driven, trying to get the company in order before the wedding. But some things had been decided long before I knew. A wedding that was never meant to happen… was never going to happen.

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After the Alpha paid a fortune to claim me at the auction, I got pregnant. Werewolves struggle with fertility, yet I gave birth to three wolf pups in one litter. He once possessed me with near-obsessive jealousy, but now looked at me with cold indifference: “I regret it, honestly.” I looked up at him, confused. His gaze swept over my full breasts and curvy hips. “I shouldn’t have claimed you just to spite Anya. Looking at you now, you’re nothing but a breeder with an empty head.” “My Anya has suffered all these years.” My whole body went rigid, eyes slowly turning red. I whispered that he couldn’t live without me. But he wasn’t moved in the slightest. Instead, he grew excited planning to bring his true love home. He shot me a look of disgust: “If you weren’t built like that, you think I’d have circled you like prey?” “Don’t worry—since you bore my pups, I won’t kick you out. My brother still needs a breeder anyway. When he gets back, you’ll move into his room.” Wolves are primal and possessive, driven by a scent-bond they cannot resist once they’ve claimed a breeder. And his brother? He’d been trying to seduce me in secret for months. … “You want to formally reject your breeder and transfer her to your brother?” The Head Elder thought he’d misheard. He looked at me—curvy, full-bodied—in disbelief. Then glanced at the skinny, frail she-wolf in Raven’s arms, like a strong wind could knock her over. “Once you speak the rejection before witnesses, the bond is severed. If your brother accepts her and places his claiming mark, there’s no going back. You’d have no rights to her anymore.” But Raven acted like he hadn’t heard a word, his tone cold and impatient: “Just do it. My new breeder just arrived and isn’t adjusted yet. I need to get her settled.” The Head Elder’s jaw tightened in disapproval. But tradition was tradition. He gestured for us to step forward. Raven’s voice rang out, flat and emotionless: “I, Raven Blackwood, formally reject Amber as my breeder. I release all claims.” The words hit like a physical blow. The partial bond we’d shared—weak as it was without a true marking—snapped. “The rejection is witnessed,” the Head Elder said gravely. “When your brother returns, he may claim her if she’s willing.” Raven was too busy soothing the she-wolf in his arms to care. “He’ll be back tomorrow,” he muttered dismissively. Outside the elder’s hall, I stood alone. Watching Anya pout and cling to Raven. Complaining about how he’d abandoned her all those years ago, then bought another breeder right in front of her. Raven coaxed her tenderly, then finally glanced back at me. In the cold wind, I looked thin and desolate. He froze for a moment, as if about to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. In the silence, I spoke first: “Do I have to move out today?” Raven frowned. “You don’t have to rush—” “You’re Amber, right?” Anya suddenly cut in, eyeing me jealously from head to toe. “I remember you. The most sought-after breeder at the auction.” “Alphas love breeders like you—big tits, wide hips. But honestly, doesn’t it embarrass you, walking around with those? If I had them, I’d be too ashamed to leave the house.” She looked up at Raven with false hurt. “Raven, you like them like that too, don’t you?” Raven tensed immediately, rushing to deny it. “Who said that? I find it revolting.” My body went rigid, eyes stinging. Revolting? But every night, he’d pinned me beneath him with his superior strength, scent-marking me over and over. When his desire peaked, his grip would tighten possessively on my hips. Sometimes once wasn’t enough. Twice. Three times. Until my body went limp and I could barely move. Turns out he called all of that revolting. Anya smirked, hooking her arm through Raven’s, looking at me with pity. “Don’t be upset. If Raven hadn’t bought you, could you have lived this well? You should thank me, really. If I hadn’t fought with Raven, you’d never have had this chance.” I glanced at Raven, unmoved, and gave a bitter hum of acknowledgment. Seeing that no matter how she twisted me, I had no fight left, Anya lost interest and demanded they go home. Raven smiled indulgently, letting her pull him forward. After a few steps, he turned back. “Amber, if you want to move, then go ahead.” “Don’t take it to heart. We’re still pack.” Pack. Yes, we were still pack. Except I was no longer his breeder. I belonged to his brother now.

The moment Anya arrived at the house, her expression soured. She stormed into the room I’d shared with Raven. She yanked out everything that belonged to me and threw it outside, piece by piece. There were matching braided bracelets I’d made. And a protection charm I’d secretly tucked under Raven’s pillow. I’d sewn that charm for hours. Every stitch was tight and careful. Now it was being trampled like garbage under her feet. I stood frozen in place. Watching helplessly as Anya tore through the space I’d tried to make into a home, leaving it in ruins. And Raven just stood there. He didn’t stop her. Instead, he smiled helplessly. His eyes flicked toward me briefly. “Let her vent. I wronged her. A little tantrum is normal. If anything breaks, I’ll replace it.” My throat tightened. I shook my head quietly. “…No need. Nothing important.” Raven paused. He studied me, inexplicably irritated, but said nothing more. In the garden stood the flower beds I’d planted myself. Raven had said we should hire someone to landscape it properly, befitting an Alpha’s home. But I’d wanted to do it with my own hands. And though he’d complained, he’d quietly had the pack staff install decorative fencing around the beds to protect them. Now Anya was trampling the blooms without a care. Raven’s affectionate gaze followed Anya’s every move, not once noticing how pale my face had gone. But Anya wasn’t done. She scoured the space, and her eyes finally landed on the woven basket in the corner. The afternoon sun was warm. I’d worried the nursery was too stuffy, so I’d brought the basket to the garden to let the pups nap in the fresh air. I shouted in panic: “The pups are in there, you can’t—” Before I could finish, she’d already lifted it, about to throw it. My face went white. Without thinking, I lunged forward. But I was too late. Anya startled and stumbled backward. She was about to fall. That’s when a dark shadow flashed by, and Raven’s Alpha reflexes kicked in—catching her firmly. The three pups curled up in soft blankets tumbled out like fallen fruit, rolling across the ground. They were so small. So small they didn’t even make a sound when they hit the ground. Only the largest one, woken by the impact, let out a tiny, pitiful whimper. “My pups!” I dropped to my knees, frantically gathering the three pups into my arms. They were terrified. Their little tails tucked between their legs, bodies trembling. The biggest one had scraped his forehead, a faint bead of blood welling up. I couldn’t breathe from the pain in my chest. Raven had been closer to the basket. With his Alpha speed, he could’ve easily grabbed it before Anya threw it. But he didn’t. His instinct chose Anya first. And then watched our pups hit the ground without so much as a frown. Before, I used to wonder. I thought about all those desperate nights tangled together. All that tenderness and indulgence. If that wasn’t love, then what was? But in that moment, I had to admit the truth. Maybe I was wrong all along.

My voice trembled as I looked up at him, eyes red. “Raven, please. Don’t let her throw anything else. I can pack everything myself. I’ll take it all. I won’t leave a single thing behind.” Raven’s jaw tightened. Slowly, he released his hold on Anya. The pups were still whimpering pitifully, trying to get their father’s attention. They wanted him to nuzzle them like he used to. But before Raven could say anything— Anya’s eyes turned red, and she rounded on him accusingly: “Raven, are you feeling sorry for her? Sorry for her and those pups she whelped for you, aren’t you?!” “I knew it. You say you’re disgusted, but you can’t let her go!” Raven frowned. “I didn’t—” “You promised to come back for me, remember?” Anya cut him off, tears streaming down her face. “And what happened? You stood in front of the entire pack and bid a fortune to buy her. Those she-wolves laughed at me for half a year, saying I was delusional to think an Alpha like you would ever want me.” “After that, no werewolf wanted me. I had to work at the pack house, cleaning, serving—every degrading job you can imagine.” “One winter, I was burning with fever for seven days. I was delirious, lying in that cold room, thinking only of you. Wondering when you’d come for me.” “And you? Were you holding some other breeder in your arms, already forgetting I existed?” She sobbed harder, collapsing into his chest. Her fists pounded weakly against him as her voice softened. “Raven, we can have pups too. I can give you so many…” “Stop looking at other breeders, okay?” Raven’s rigid body gradually relaxed. He pulled his gaze away from me and the pups, gently wiping the tears from her face with unexpected tenderness. “Don’t cry. I’ll do whatever you want, all right?” The pups looked at their father with heartbreak, their whimpers growing fainter. They nudged my fingers with their noses. Their bright golden eyes reflected my face, as if asking: Why won’t Father look at us when we’re hurt? I just watched. My face felt frozen. I couldn’t even form an expression. Feeling their sadness, I stroked their little heads. After a long moment, I forced a bitter smile. “It’s okay, my babies.” I lowered my head and started gathering the scattered belongings. Things kept falling out as fast as I packed them. I picked them up again and again, over and over. Hot tears hit the ground. Gone in an instant. I numbly listened to Anya cooing playfully at Raven: “I want you to order a custom bed! I’m not sleeping in one you shared with another breeder!” “And have someone tear out those flower beds. I want a different design. That fencing too—it’s tacky. Replace it all!” Raven followed her pointing finger with his eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the carefully tended blooms. He lowered his head, glancing at me once. Then, after a long pause, he turned back and rested his chin on top of Anya’s head. “All right. I’ll have it done tomorrow.”

Over the next few days, I moved into Caspian’s quarters. He’d been gone too long— Though the room was clean and well-maintained by pack staff, it felt cold. I set up a small nursery in the corner. Using soft blankets to create a warm nest for the pups. The sticky night air crept through the window. Carrying with it the cloying scent of flowers from outside. Raven had torn out my flower beds and planted new varieties. The pups whimpered and burrowed against my chest, sleeping fitfully. They were heartbroken. From birth until now, their father had never been so cold to them. I lowered my head, pressing my lips gently to their foreheads. My eyes suddenly stung with tears. Outside, I could hear muffled crying. I rolled over, covering my ears desperately. Then suddenly—a loud crash. “Raven, no! Don’t touch me! I’m scared, please…” Mixed with the sound of frantic footsteps. My whole body tensed. The next second, the door burst open from outside. Raven stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing that eerie green in the darkness, locked onto me. His gaze slid from my face down to my half-open collar. I knew that look all too well. Countless nights, he’d looked at me exactly like this. Then pulled me into his arms in the darkness, pinning me down with his weight, taking me over and over. He was in rut. I instinctively shrank back against the wall. Seeing my retreat, Raven’s jaw clenched so hard I could hear it. He didn’t even know what he was angry about. The surge of his wolf and primal instinct urged him forward. His brain had only one thought. She was his breeder. No one could take her away. Watching Raven approach, I shook my head desperately: “No, I don’t want this!” My rejection seemed to burn the werewolf standing before me. He stopped in place, looking at me with wounded eyes. Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who rejected me first. “I don’t want—” But before I could finish. He had already easily caught my wrists, pinning them above my head. Suddenly there was a sharp, high-pitched yip. The largest pup struggled forward. Using his little legs to push himself up, he crawled in front of me. I could feel his body trembling. Those golden eyes reflected his father’s half-shifted form, full of fear. But he still opened his mouth. Baring fangs that hadn’t fully grown in yet, making threatening sounds at Raven. The other two woke up as well. They shakily copied their brother. Three pups barely the size of my palm lined up in front of me. Tears flooded my eyes. “Babies, no… don’t come closer…” I tried to reach for them. But Raven had my hands pinned. I couldn’t move. Raven looked down, his mind clouded by rut. He reached out, and the pup struggled desperately in his grip, tiny body twisting and kicking. “No! Raven, let him go! You’re hurting him!” I went wild, my nails scratching bloody lines down his arm. Raven frowned and carelessly tossed the pup aside. The tiny body hit the wall and slid down. “Baby!” The pain nearly suffocated me, my eyes bloodshot: “Are you insane?! He’s your pup! How could you throw him like that!” Raven seemed to come to his senses for a moment. He looked down at his hand, then at the pup curled up in the corner. But the animal instinct quickly surged back. His gaze fell on me again, his hand moving back to my body. He murmured incoherently: “Amber…” Just then, a scream came from the doorway. “What are you doing?!” Raven’s whole body froze. He whipped his head around. Anya stood barefoot outside the door, eyes wide as she stared at us. Raven shoved me away, his face full of regret. In his panic, he blurted out: “She… she seduced me.”

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I lay on the birthing bed, contractions coming one after another. My mate Kieran gripped my hand, his eyes soft with tenderness. “Hold on a little longer, Elara. Soon we’ll meet our pup.” Pain soaked me in sweat, but I forced a smile for him. Until the midwife walked in holding a syringe—I thought it was moonshade tincture for the pain. But Kieran suddenly released my hand and stepped back. The needle pierced my skin, and I heard Kieran say: “Get the dosage right. She has to wait until Vivienne delivers before going into labor.” I stared at him wide-eyed, but he only checked his pocket watch. “Vivienne’s dilated to six centimeters. Just stall for two more hours.” I tried to scream, tried to struggle, but the drug was already flooding my system. The violent contractions in my abdomen felt like an unseen force suddenly choking them off. They stopped. Just stopped. …… I was dragged into a makeshift cell in the healer’s cellar. Kieran’s sister Lyra stood in the doorway, playing with a scalpel. “Elara, don’t blame Kieran.” “Vivienne’s carrying my eldest brother’s posthumous pup—the first male pup of the Frostwood Pack this generation.” “No matter how early you deliver, yours is just a daughter. Worthless.” I clutched my belly as another wave of contractions fought the drug. Pain darkened my vision. “Get the healer—I’m in labor, really…” Lyra laughed. She walked over, crouched in front of me, and tapped my face lightly with the scalpel. “Labor? What labor?” “The drug will hold for three more hours. Vivienne’s already in the birthing chamber.” “You wait here like a good girl. Once her son’s safely born, you can deliver however you want.” She stood and barked orders at the guards by the door: “Watch her. If she screams, gag her.” The door slammed shut. The cellar had only one dim oil lamp. I lay on the floor, blood already soaking through my dress. My mind-link had been severed when I entered the healing hall. Kieran said it would drain my strength, bad for the pup. Now I understood—he was afraid I’d reach anyone outside. I curled into myself, trying to breathe through the pain. But all I could see were Kieran’s eyes. Cold. Calculating. Like I was a thing. Not his mate. Not the woman about to bear his child. Three months ago, his eldest brother died in a border raid. He left behind his widow Vivienne, three months pregnant. At the funeral, the Old Alpha wept, gripping Vivienne’s hand: “You must deliver safely. The Frostwood Pack can’t end here.” I’d felt sorry for Vivienne then and offered: “Father, don’t worry. My pup with Kieran will honor you too.” The Old Alpha glanced at me and said nothing. From that moment, my child was already abandoned. “Ahh…” Another contraction hit, fiercer than before. The drug was wearing off. The pup was coming. I clawed at the door, pounding with everything I had. “Someone—I’m in labor—save my pup!” Silence from the other side. Only when my voice went hoarse did I hear a guard’s irritated voice: “Shut up already. Miss Lyra said wait.” “But my pup…” “If it dies, that’s fate. Who told you not to carry a son?” I collapsed on the floor, my body going cold. Not fate. Someone wanted my child dead.

I don’t know how long I suffered in that cellar. More blood kept coming, everything beneath me soaked through. As my consciousness faded, the door suddenly opened. Not Lyra. Not the guards. The pack healer, Bennett. When he saw my condition, his face went white. “Luna? What are you doing here?” “The Alpha said you were resting in the recovery chamber.” I tried to speak but couldn’t make a sound. I could only point at my belly, tears streaming down. Bennett rushed over and knelt to check me. The moment his hand touched my abdomen, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Fully dilated! Your water broke!” “She needs surgery immediately!” He tried to lift me, but the second I moved, a hot gush came. Blood. So much blood. Bennett’s hands were shaking as he yelled toward the door: “Someone! Anyone! She’s hemorrhaging!” The hallway was empty. This private healing hall was owned by the Frostwood Pack—tonight they’d cleared it for Vivienne’s delivery. Every healer and midwife was on standby in the third-floor birthing chamber. Bennett reached for the mind link, but it was blocked. “I’ll carry you up. Hang on!” He gritted his teeth and lifted me, stumbling toward the exit. The stairway was long, every step jarring me toward death. I could feel the pup dropping lower, but it wouldn’t come out. The drug was still working, contractions coming and going. This was the most dangerous situation. “Bennett…” I grabbed his collar, voice barely a whisper. “Save the pup. Please.” “Don’t talk nonsense! You’ll both be fine!” He finally burst onto the first floor and ran toward the surgery chamber. But when we reached the entrance, we both froze. The surgery chamber door stood wide open. Inside was empty. The enchanted healing lamps—gone. The birthing table—gone. Monitoring crystals, oxygen apparatus, all the medical equipment—everything was gone. Only an empty room and a few anchoring runes on the wall remained. Bennett stood frozen in place. I heard a choking sound come from his throat, like someone was strangling him. “How is this possible…” “I checked the equipment this afternoon…” Footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. Lyra walked over with two midwives, raising an eyebrow at us. “Bennett, what are you doing here?” “Vivienne’s in the third-floor chamber. Why’d you come down?” Bennett pointed at the empty surgery chamber, voice shaking: “The equipment? Where did all the surgical equipment go?” Lyra looked completely innocent: “Moved to the third floor, obviously.” “Vivienne’s having a C-section—she needs the best equipment. What if there’s an emergency? How could a regular chamber be enough?” As she spoke, her eyes landed on me and she smiled. “Elara’s ready to deliver?” “You’ll have to wait. Vivienne’s not done yet.” “Just be patient.” I stared at that perfectly made-up face. Suddenly remembering six months ago when she’d linked arms with me at the market, saying sweetly: “Elara, you’re so good to me. Better than my own blood sister.” I’d bought her enchanted accessories worth over a hundred thousand gold that day. Now it all seemed like a sick joke.

Bennett frantically tore through the healer’s station, searching for emergency equipment. But the cabinets were empty. Not even basic hemostats or gauze. “Equipment? Where’s the bloodclot potion? Birthwort tincture?” A midwife whispered: “Everything was sent to the third floor.” “The Alpha ordered all resources go to Lady Vivienne first.” Bennett slammed his fist into the cabinet. He looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, lips trembling: “I’m sorry, Luna, I’m so sorry…” “There’s nothing I can do…” Lyra walked over and patted his shoulder: “Bennett, don’t panic.” “Elara hasn’t delivered yet, right? Once Vivienne’s done, the equipment comes back down.” She glanced at my belly and added: “Even if she does deliver, it’s just a girl. No loss if it dies.” “The Frostwood Pack doesn’t need another one.” I stared hard at her. At this person I’d treated like a real sister for three years. Then, using every ounce of strength, I forced out two words: “You monster.” Lyra’s expression darkened. She bent down, leaned close to my ear, voice dropping low: “Call me whatever you want. Go ahead.” “Once you deliver and your body’s weak, I’ve got plenty of ways to shut you up permanently.” “Then Vivienne gets to be Luna.” “As for you…” She straightened up, smile bright: “For Kieran’s sake, I’ll let you live. You can be a servant.” Bennett couldn’t take it anymore: “Miss Lyra! This is murder!” “Murder?” Lyra scoffed. “Bennett, watch what you say.” “Women dying in childbirth—isn’t that perfectly normal?” “Besides, this is Frostwood Pack family business. What’s it to you, outsider?” She waved at the guards: “Take Bennett to rest.” “I’ll personally look after my dear sister.” Two guards stepped forward and dragged him away. Bennett struggled, shouting: “Luna! Apply pressure to your lower abdomen! Massage in circles! It triggers contractions!” “Don’t give up! The pup can still be saved!” His voice faded down the hall. Lyra shut the station door and turned to face me. She pulled out her scrying mirror and activated a vision spell. “Kieran, Elara’s about to deliver. Don’t you want to watch?” Kieran’s face appeared in the glass. He stood outside the birthing chamber, healers bustling in the background. “Elara, quit being dramatic.” “Vivienne’s in bad shape—the pup’s heartbeat dropped.” Lyra turned the mirror toward me: “Look how much blood Elara’s losing. Is she dying too?” Kieran frowned, glanced once, then quickly looked away. “Make her wait.” “Once Vivienne delivers, the healers will go down.” “Elara, you handle things. I can’t leave.” The vision faded. Lyra shrugged and pocketed her mirror. “You hear that?” “In Kieran’s heart, Vivienne comes first.” “You’re just a breeding tool.” “And once a tool’s used up, it gets thrown away.” I closed my eyes, done looking at her. My hand crept behind me to the lining of my dress. Sewn inside was a button-sized talisman. Father had given it to me. He’d said: “Elara, the Frostwood Pack isn’t what it seems. If something happens, press this.” I’d laughed it off back then. “Dad, Kieran treats me well. The whole pack treats me well.” Now I realized how stupid I’d been. I used my fingernail to pry open the protective seal. Pressed down gently. No sound. No light. But I knew—the signal was sent. Father had promised—press this, and help arrives within thirty minutes. But thirty minutes… Could my pup survive thirty minutes?

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After dating, my sister Chloe stormed through the door and exploded. “What a complete loser! His salary is less than half of mine, and he had the nerve to tell me to stay local, get married this year, and pop out a kid next year.” “They set me up with *that*? Disgusting!” Mom and Dad rushed over to comfort her. “We won’t see him again. That matchmaker has terrible judgment, always setting you up with bottom-feeders.” I stared at the gift box by the door and quietly added, “He seemed nice. He went out of his way to drive you home and brought gifts for everyone.” Chloe’s eyes flickered. She suddenly laughed. “What? You interested in my leftovers?” She looked me up and down, her voice dripping with contempt. “Makes sense. You’re worse than me in every way. A guy like that is perfect for someone like you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You want him? Take him. I’m not interested in a dead-end life in this backwater town anyway.” I silently added the contact info she’d forwarded to me. I didn’t mention that when he’d driven her home earlier, he’d been in our district supervisor’s car. And as far as I knew, his family owned over thirty properties in our county. *** Chloe’s anger hadn’t faded when her phone buzzed. After reading the message, her expression darkened further. “How annoying! He wants to take me to a movie tomorrow. I said no, but he won’t take the hint!” Mom quickly intervened. “Chloe, don’t reject him outright.” “This is a small town—everyone knows everyone. You shut him down today, and tomorrow someone’s gossiping about how working in a big city made you too stuck-up for the locals.” Dad nodded along. “Exactly. Relationships are complicated here. Who knows what connections his family has? If you offend the wrong person, it’ll make things difficult when you come back to visit.” Chloe’s eyes suddenly landed on me, her tone charitable. “Nina, you go instead.” “Just handle it for me. Don’t screw it up.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded. No one asked if I was willing. In this family, I’d never had the right to say no. To avoid screwing it up, I spent all night researching the movie Owen had chosen. Plot, foreshadowing, the director’s techniques—I filled an entire page with notes. The next day when we met, Owen clearly looked surprised to see me. I explained, “My sister had something come up. She asked me to apologize.” Then I casually mentioned a few things about the film. His eyes lit up. “I already bought the tickets, let’s not waste them.” After the movie, he enthusiastically discussed it with me for ages. Dinner was his treat. It was relaxed. Nothing like the sleazy lecturing Chloe had described. He was actually very considerate—serving me food, asking if I liked the taste. After dinner, he suddenly led me into a jewelry store next door and picked out two pendants. When I saw the price—nearly 10 grands—I froze and tried to decline. He smiled and shook his head, paying anyway. “Last time I brought gifts in a rush. Didn’t have time to get something special for you and your sister. Keep this one, and give the other to her for me.” I accepted the pendant, understanding clearly—he still cared about Chloe. After all, Chloe was beautiful and had a good job in New York. A top student. Me? I was plain at best. Completely ordinary. But I wasn’t planning to give Chloe the pendant just yet. When I got home, Chloe glanced at my hand and sneered. “Oh wow, he didn’t even buy you anything? Told you he was cheap. Can’t even spring for a gift when he takes you out.” I ignored her and went to my room, tucking the pendant safely in my bag. As soon as I sat down, a notification popped up—Owen had accepted my friend request from last night. I retouched my makeup, put on the pendant, and posted a photo to my social media. Less than two minutes later, Owen liked it. Outside my room, Chloe’s complaining continued. “Good thing I sent Nina. Otherwise, he would’ve driven me insane. Pathetic loser, thinking he can chase me. Doesn’t even know if he’s worthy.” Mom and Dad chimed in. “Exactly. You are so excellent—you’ll definitely find someone better.” “Just let Nina handle these things from now on.” I leaned against the door, feeling nothing. I’d gotten used to it long ago. Mom and Dad had me by accident. They always felt guilty toward Chloe, who should’ve been an only child. From childhood, they’d drilled it into me: “Nina, don’t compete with your sister. She’s older. You have to let her have her way.” Chloe took every kind of enrichment class growing up—music, chess, painting. She excelled at everything. I got yelled at by Mom for being “wasteful” just for wanting a workbook. Chloe had a high-paying job in New York, yet Mom and Dad secretly gave her an extra $1000 every month. When I wanted to leave and make something of myself, I’d secretly bought a train ticket, only for Mom and Dad to tear it to shreds. That night, I’d heard them talking in their room: “Chloe will get married eventually. We can’t burden her. Nina is obedient—she’ll take care of us when we’re old.” In their eyes, Chloe was always precious. And me? I was just there to take Chloe’s problems and absorb the hits meant for her. A week later, Owen invited Chloe to go hiking. She refused without a second thought and pushed me forward again. “Nina, you go. Tell him I’m busy with work.” I didn’t argue. I changed into workout clothes and went. During the hike, I kept a steady pace and waited whenever Owen fell behind. I handed him water and wiped his sweat. When we hit rough patches, I reminded him to be careful. The whole thing was relaxed—no forced pleasantries, just doing what felt natural. At the summit, Owen suddenly spoke. “Chloe said she’s busy, but really she just doesn’t like me, right?” My heart tightened. I was about to explain when he smiled. “I could tell something was off the first time we met. Today confirmed it.” “Chloe has never been nice to me. She’d never be as patient and genuine as you. I’m not going to force it.” He paused, his gaze turning serious. “Nina, you’re special. Want to give us a try?”

“Owen and I are together now.” When I told Chloe, I handed her the gold pendant from before. “This is for you. Thanks for letting me go on those dates.” Chloe gripped the pendant, her brow furrowed, her eyes full of suspicion. “You only take home three thousand a month, and you give half to Mom and Dad. How are you suddenly dropping money like this?” I gave her a simple-minded smile. “I used my savings. Finding someone in a small town isn’t easy. Owen makes six thousand a month, and he’s honest. If we get married and live carefully, we’ll be better off than most people.” She laughed, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh wow, so I did you a favor?” “That’s all the ambition you’ve got? Picking up my leftovers and acting like you hit the jackpot?” I looked down and said nothing. I’d been listening to her ridicule for over twenty years. I was immune. Since Owen and I got together, we’ve met for dinner every Friday. But I was always late. It wasn’t on purpose. My supervisor, Mr. Clark, had been making my life hell ever since his divorce. Every time I was about to leave, he’d dump a pile of work on me and get handsy while “discussing” projects. That day, Owen came to pick me up from work so I wouldn’t be late. I’d just stepped out of the office building. Mr. Clark chased after me, pretending to hand me something, deliberately rubbing his fingers over my hand several times. I didn’t pull away. I even frowned slightly, looking helpless and wronged. I knew Owen could see everything from his car. He suddenly honked, his voice icy as he shouted out the window: “Who the hell are you? Why are you putting your hands on her?” Mr. Clark jumped back and hurried away. The next morning at work, the office was in chaos. Mr. Clark had been urgently transferred to a remote township. Everyone whispered that he’d pissed someone off—otherwise, why would he be reassigned so suddenly with no chance to appeal? That evening, Owen picked me up from work. I casually brought it up. He looked at me, his eyes soft. “That was me. I won’t let you be treated like that.” He came clean about his background. His dad was the top official at my agency’s parent department. His mom was the director of a private hospital. He said, “I didn’t mention it during the setup because I didn’t want to show off.” “I had a girlfriend in college. We were together for three years—really good together.” “But when we were about to graduate, she found out I was coming back to this county and said I had no ambition. She broke up with me.” “My parents are getting older and pushing me to settle down. That’s why I agreed to the setup.” Suddenly it made sense. No wonder such a quality guy needed a setup to find someone. Owen suddenly took my hand, his tone serious. “Nina, I’m telling you this because I’m not messing around. I’m serious about marriage.” I looked into his sincere eyes and nodded hard. In our second month together, I met Owen’s parents. They were wonderful people, clearly pleased with me, and even sent me home with a thoughtful gift. Six months flew by, and we decided to get our marriage license. When I told my parents about the wedding, they said they couldn’t help. Funny, considering how much of my paycheck I’d been handing over to them every month. On the wedding day, Owen’s parents spent a million dollars to hold a lavish ceremony at the best hotel in the county. Guests poured in—all prominent figures in the county. Even my supervisor came to offer congratulations. But right up until the ceremony started, Mom and Dad never showed. Just as I stood on stage in my wedding dress, barely holding it together, I received a message from them—just a few short lines: [Nina, we’re not coming. Chloe suddenly has a fever. We’re rushing to New York to take care of her. Your in-laws are just showing off, insisting on the most expensive venue. We looked at the smallest banquet hall there before—it’s barely bigger than a conference room. We’d be embarrassed to show up. Besides, Chloe’s illness is more important.]

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