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🥳 Jour 1 - Le changement commence 💃 Jour 2 - La vitesse du métabolisme augmente 😇 Jour 3 - Meilleure humeur, sommeil amélioré 🤯 Jour 4 - Moins de stress, plus de confiance 💅 Jour 5 - Gère les envies de nourriture 🌊 Jour 6 - Vois des résultats visibles en 2 semaines !

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The Ultimate Escape: A Series That Makes Reality Disappear

Demetra. I am Demetra, the girl whose mother slept with every gamma, beta, and zeta…trying to climb her way up, only to crash-land at the very bottom and leave me here to clean up her mess in the Black Covenant Pack. As the lowest-ranking omega in the pack house, my glorious destiny is to personally serve one of three sons of Alpha Kael. Emris. Emris. Emris. Emris. My world is the four walls of his penthouse bedroom. I’m the ghost who takes his designer clothes to the laundry. I scrub his desk. I pick up the condoms after he’s done with whatever girl he drags home from the club. I’m the one who patches up the cuts and bruises from fights he doesn’t want his parents to know about, dabbing at his knuckles while he stares straight through me. I even cut his hair when it gets too long cause he hates when it brushes his shoulders. And when his famous temper explodes, shattering a lamp or hurling it against the wall, I’m the one on my knees, picking up the pieces. Always on my knees. Because Emris runs on a fuel of rage. However, the day I turned eighteen, a mate bond snapped between us during one of my cleaning routines. Me, a nobody, became mated to the first son of the Alpha. The one everyone whispers will inherit everything, because while all two of brothers are hybrids, Emris is the strongest…he is a Trybrid werewolf. Emris, who has never looked at me twice, suddenly couldn’t stand for me to be out of his sight. Yet, despite his new possessiveness. He warned me never to tell a soul that we were mates. Afterall, I’m an orphaned omega, a high-school dropout because the pack’s "charity" didn't cover an actual education. My father isn’t some politician or business mogul; he’s probably one of the countless faceless men my mother entertained. I am the pack’s pity project, the girl they “saved,” and my lifelong repayment has been to scrub their floors and make their beds. He was ashamed of me. The first time Emris ever truly looked at me was the day the mate bond snapped into place. I remember how his uncovered eye, stared down at me while the other was hidden under the usual black patch. The next time I saw him without that black patch, it revealed his serpent-lined colored eyes as he took my virginity in his bed. And I love him. Goddess, I love him with my entire soul, a stupid, desperate love that lives in the deepest, most secret part of my heart. I loved him when he made me his dirty secret. I loved him through his coldness and the countless ways he shattered my heart, only to gather the pieces and hand them back to him all over again. I am the one who watches him sleep. I am the one rocked him back to reality when he woke up from the nightmares of the two years he spent as a kid, locked in an enemy’s pack dungeon. He was broken, far from perfect, but he was everything to me. “Where you going?” His rough voice makes me stop buttoning my stupid house help uniform. I see my reflection in his floor-length mirror, my doll like white hair is all ruffled from where he fisted his hands in it, arching me against me just minutes ago. “It’s almost time for breakfast.” I look around his bedroom for my bra. “Shit.” Emris runs a hand down his face. I see the forgotten cup of water on his nightstand. The one I brought him last night before he pulled me into his bed and made me forget my own name. “This what you’re looking for?” I see my light blue bra dangling from his finger. I march over and reach for it, but he lifts his hand higher. “I’m already late. Give it.” I hold my palm out and try to sound firm. He pushes his dark hair back and sits up. The sheets pools around his naked waist. I can’t help the quick swallow in my throat as I take in the hard planes of his ab muscles or his calloused hands that held my waist so tightly I couldn’t escape a thrust. “Did I say you could leave yet?” Emris’ voice is deceptively soft. “Keep it, then.” I frown and walk out. I can’t do this with him today. I hear his low chuckle behind me. “I don’t like your saltiness. Or is it moodiness? I don’t like your jealousy, either. I have so much to do today, the last thing I want is that attitude from you.” I do my best not to turn around and look at him. He knows exactly why I’m upset. The whole pack knows. The Alpha of the Mud Claw Pack’s daughter, Elena. Emris’s ex-girlfriend has just moved into the pack house. Luna Derisha is already parading her around, calling her his future Luna. And I’m here. His actual, true mate. His dirty little secret. “Demetra?” His tone shifts. It’s becoming a warning. “Don’t let me have to call you a second time!” When I turn, he’s out of bed in a loose pair of pants, walking towards the balcony where I’m standing at. “You know why I’m upset.” Emris rips off his black eye patch and tosses it aside. He usually covers that eye because his wolf gets agitated, and when it does, he can’t control the change. His left eye burns with a ring of gold, the pupil a terrifying thin slit. It scares people. But then, everything about Emris is designed to be scary. I’m just the idiot who’s in love with him, so I see past it. “You’re acting like I slept with Elena this morning!” “Wow.” I let out a scoff that’s designed to hide the hot press of tears in my throat. “So, you want to sleep with her? You can’t wait to have your ex-girlfriend back in your bed?” “Stop it. Her father is an Alpha. My mom is just securing my claim to the Alpha seat. It’s not personal—” “We are mates!” I yell and I’ve never yelled at him before. “You’re an omega.” Emris says it like it’s a disease. “That’s weak for a Trybrid like me. That’s a liability for the Alpha I’m becoming!” “You sleep with me! You claim me almost every night! But now, suddenly, I’m too weak for you because the Alpha seat is up for grabs?” In a second, he’s right in front of me. I watch the pupil in his left eye, “the serpent-like one” dilates. “Don’t you ever disrespect me. I paid for your high school. I offered to pay for college, but you were too proud to take it. I bought you a car you never drove! I give you a roof, my protection, and this is how you thank me?” Emris pulls me and I land against his bare chest, face inches from his. There, I force myself to go still so I won’t anger the beast further. I didn’t accept his gifts because I was sick of feeling like his charity case, a bill he had to pay for the mate he never wanted. “Once I'm Alpha, my pups will be in your belly. You'll... be under my protection for life." He roughs a brand across my waist before palming my back side. There comes the famous grab as he does a little tap-tap-tap taps with ownership. Usually, it would make me blush but this time, I just look at him with tears. However, Emris doesn’t see tears. He’s cold-blooded, and the worst part is, he’s proud of it. “As what?” I look up at him from what feels like a million miles below. The one thing I want is for him to claim me as his mate. To look at me and see his equal, his other half, not a constant reminder of how we’re opposites. Emris just stares back. Of course, he’s going to pretend he doesn’t understand what I’m asking. He’s an expert at that. “Change that jealous look on your face before I see you again.” I push his hand away from my waist and instantly feel cold. I walk out of his bedroom. The moment I step into the moving area of the pack house, I nearly collide with the head chef, whose face is twisted into a scowl that could curdle milk. “Where have you been?!” “I, uh… I woke up late.” I quickly answer. My job is only to maintain Emris’s private penthouse, so I have no idea why she’s so furious with me. “We’re short-staffed. Go help Miss Elena take her bags to her room.” Susan points and my stomach plummets. There she is. Elena Orient. Emris’ ex-girlfriend. 2 Demetra. Elena was a part-time cheerleading trainer at Magnus High for a year. It’s the high school I was able to attend because of Emris’s “charity.” She’s at least four years older than me, and she was that impossibly cool adult all the younger girls, including me, desperately wanted to be. The boys were all secretly in love with her. She had perfect, bouncy blonde waves. Back when I was a gawky, puberty-stricken freshman, I’d daydream about looking like her one day. So yeah, I’m jealous. Elena Orient comes from a rich family, a powerful pack, and everyone adores her. She’s everything I’m not. I remember the first time she saw Emris. It was Guardians’ Day. I didn't have anyone to come for me, but he showed up. He was there for his sister, Teddy but I’ll never forget the way everyone stared as he walked straight up to me in the crowded hallway. The next day, Elena actually sought me out to ask me who he was. It was the first time our cheer instructor had ever spoken directly to me. I gave her his name, never imagining that simple answer would lead to them dating. Back then, I didn't care. I wasn't eighteen; the mate bond was silent, and Emris's life was his own. Now, everything is different. "Morning.” I say. Elena finally looks up from her phone. Even at 7 a.m., her blonde hair is bouncy and shiny. Makeup. She’s dressed in designer clothes plus perfumes. She’s obviously hoping to run into Emris, but he’s probably in the middle of his brutal gym session, followed by a wild run through the woods. He won't be back for at least an hour. "OMG! Demetra, right?" "Yeah. I should take your bags up—" I reach for one of the bold pink suitcases, but when I try to lift it, it doesn't even budge. "Did Emris send you to help me?" What does she think I am, his personal messenger? "Does he know I'm here already?" "No, Miss Elena." I reposition myself to wrestle with the luggage again. "Where is he? Still sleeping? Is he awake?" I give the stubborn bag a hard yank. "Can you give me an answer!?" There comes her irritation. I’d almost forgotten that behind that smile, she wears a lot of masks and her true personality is just plain evil. "I'm not sure, Miss Elena—" "Then, what use are you?" I pull the bag with all my might, and this time, it sends me backward. I lose my balance and crash to the floor just as Luna Derisha walks in with another guest. Oh no. “Elena, why are your luggage not taken yet!?” Luna Derisha’s asks. I get up quickly. “This weak omega—” Luna Derisha’s eyes narrow on me but she forces a smile for the guest. Elena’s mother, who’s watching the entire scene. “I’m sorry, Luna.” I step back. I know better than to be within arm’s reach when she’s like this; her slaps are swift. “Wow, her hair is so beautiful. She is such a beautiful young woman.” I see the muscle in Luna Derisha’s jaw twitch as the woman complements me. She hates any reminder of my mother, and my looks are the biggest reminder of all. Thankfully, Luna Derisha’s drivers come in and effortlessly haul the luggage away. “Luna, the tables are ready.” the head housekeeper announces. The moment they’re out of earshot, Luna Derisha turns on me. “I don’t even know your use in this house. All you do is fatten yourself on our food, yet your strength stays the same.” I stare at the ground. It’s better not to look at her. “Because of us, the sickly thing your mother gave birth to is growing. Your cream-white hair is getting longer. Your uniform is getting tighter on your body. Your hips are fattening like a whore’s, your…” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s those same things your mother used to attract the lowest of the lows. Tell me, are you heading down the same path?” “No, Luna.” I answer quickly. “Get out of my sight! And did I not ask you to dye that hair black?” Someone calls Luna Derisha so her attention finally goes away from me. The moment she looks away. I feel a violent surge in my throat and I throw my hand against it. I don’t know if it’s the humiliation, the stress of the morning, or something else entirely, but I don’t wait to find out. I turn and run across the marble floors until I burst into the empty staff bathroom. I barely make it to the stall before my insides seem to rupture. I vomit and vomit and vomit until my stomach is empty. Tears are streaming down my face as I stare at myself in the mirror. Why am I vomiting? Is it the oats I ate last night? And then my brain decides to gives me an answer. Hey, remember that little monthly thing that ghosted you last month? Oh no. Oh, Moon Goddess… am I pregnant? Pregnant with Emris’ child? ___________ I change out of my uniform, into a pair of jeans and a top. I need a pregnancy test. Now. I've been sitting in front of the desk for the past three hours, trying to count days on a calendar, but it's useless. The problem is Emris. Our schedule last month was basically, all sex. In his room, in mine, sometimes in a skyscraper hotel suite when his late-night meetings with the jet company ran long. Today is the 20th. No sign of my period. That can only mean one thing. We used protection… sometimes. When he remembered. Emris gets so lost in the claiming in a way that makes it impossible for either of us to think straight. I go out through the back kitchen, hoping to go unnoticed. "Where are you going?" Summer, my best friend blocks my path and shoves her hands into her flour-dusted apron, looking less like my ride-or-die and more like a very suspicious, pastry-based bouncer. "Luna Derisha is on a warpath today. So lucky you only answer to Emris. What's going on with you?" "Uh, I just have to run an errand—" "Ugh, don't even get me started. That Elena is such a snob. She brought thirty boxes of Louboutin, Chanel and had the nerve to ask if we'd ever touched anything like that. Please tell me a bitch like that isn't going to be our next Luna." "Summer, if anyone hears you, you're going to lose your job." Paxton warns, he’s the assistant chef. "She's not wrong. Riley is arranging Elena’s closet right now. There are, like, a hundred pairs." Someone else says. "Guys, I really have to go." I try to sidestep them. But Paxton places a hand around my stomach region to stop me. He's always been overly concerned about me. "Are you okay? You look a bit…pale." Before I can answer, my eyes do a casual sweep past his shoulder to the kitchen's large glass windows. And I freeze. Emris is there, a million-foot tall on the gravel, making a phone call in his stuntman stature. He’s staring straight at us. Specifically, at Paxton’s hand, which is currently resting on the exact location of his potential future heir. For his own safety, and to prevent a murder in the parking lot, I crank up a smile. "I'm fine, Pax! Really. Just a quick trip into town. I’ll be back soon.” I hurry out to the gardens but a text lights up my phone from Emris. Just one word: Garage. I knew he wouldn’t let what he saw slide. His private garage is dim and it’s the first time we'd met here. The car Emris is in is a black Bentley that cost more than my life. With blue interior lights that make him a villain of a sci-fi movie. Emris unfolds himself from the seat. “You’re gonna use that nobody to make me jealous!” He has the most devastatingly handsome face I’ve ever seen. Skin like rich gold, messy black hair that looks better the more he runs his hands through it. He’s taller and stronger than any man I’ve ever known. I’ve felt the raw power in his thighs when they move under me, I’ve listened to the steady beat of his heart against my chest. It’s the universe’s cruellest joke that a voice so rough and harsh comes attached to a mouth that gives the softest kisses. “That’s not what I was doing.” “What was he about to touch?” “Emris, Paxton is just my friend. I’ve told you this over and over… he’s just looking out for me.” He rises to his full, ridiculous height. A skyscraper of a jealous Alpha he will soon become. I am forced to step back until I bump into another of his cars. He’s jealous. And when he’s jealous, he’s less a man and more a walking, talking grenade with the pin already pulled. “Looking out for you?” He tilts his neck in that specific way he does, a gesture that shows the tattoos on his throat and across his collarbones. I know they travel all the way down to his waist. I’ve traced them with my fingers before. “Because I don’t do enough looking out for you already!?” “Someone could see us. I should go—” “Get in.” I just stare at him in surprise. Emris has never, ever let me in the same car as him before, especially not while we're on pack grounds. This is breaking like twelve of his own rules. “If someone sees—” He drags me to the passenger side and pushes me in. 3 Demetra. A moment later, he’s driving us smoothly away from the pack house, and I melt into the leather chair. “Where?” “Huh?” Emris hisses. “Where are you going? Don’t piss me off, Demetra.” “The, um… to the store.” “What could you possibly want from the store that you cannot get at the pack house!?” “Some hygiene products.” I squeakily lie. “And a new bra.” When we get to the shopping mall, his phone rings. Thank god, a distraction. He throws a black credit card at me without even looking, and I take it. I only accept because refusing would be a whole thing and I need him to be distracted. I go straight to the pharmacy section. My hands are literally shaking as I grab the test. I pay with my own cash and buy two, just to be sure. I also snag a random, overpriced bra I don’t need as my decoy. I lock myself in a bathroom stall and after ten minutes, my eyes instantly water when both tests show the result. Two pink lines. Two. I stare at myself in the mirror over the sink, looking again and again and again, as if my reflection will have a different answer. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with Emris’s child. I wipe the tears away, only for more to fall. It’s positive. Both tests are undeniably, life-falteringly positive. I stumble out of the stall and mumble an apology to the annoyed women waiting in line. I rush to the counter to pay for the bra, hastily wiping my cheeks and glancing out the mall to see if Emris is still in the car. My hands are shaking so badly I fumble the card, dropping it twice. As I turn from the counter, I bump hard into an older man and it sends my shopping bag and Emris's black credit card to the floor. "I'm so sorry!" I get to my knees to gather my things. The man bends down too and picks up the card. "Here you go—" "Thanks. I am so sorry, sir!" I repeat until he doesn't let go. I look up and see him staring at me with an expression of shock, so intense that the card in his hand actually trembles. "Sir…?" I try to pull it back. "What is your name?" he asks. "You look familiar. What pack are you from?" "Sir, please. I'm in a hurry." I finally manage to tug the card from his fingers but the encounter is far from over. "Alpha?" I look up to see a guy who must be a million inches tall, built like a valley, standing behind the older man. Did he just call him... Alpha? The older man ignores his guard or is it his Beta to continue staring at me. "You have white hair. You….you have white hair.” Why’s he looking at me like he's seen a ghost. Yes, I have white hair and so? My mind is reeling from the pregnancy tests, and now this? Will Emris accept the pregnancy? Will Emris be happy when I tell him? Will Luna Derisha kill me when she finds out I’ve been sleeping with her son? The future heir of the pack. The Beta speaks. "Alpha, you don't think she is—" “Please, have my business card.” The older man presses an embossed card into my hand but I don’t take it. “Sir, I don’t understand what you are saying or doing—” “I am searching for my daughter. She has white hair, just like…” “I am not your daughter!” A father is the last thing I have or need on this earth. “Dad?” Another young man, handsome and well-dressed, walks up, addressing the older man. The moment his eyes land on me, his jaw goes slack. While I’m distracted by the son’s stunned reaction, the older man quickly slips his business card into the palm of my hand and closes my fingers around it. And at that exact moment, Emris enters. One look at his eyes and I know I’m in deep, deep trouble. “You.” Emris voice makes everyone look in our direction. I rush to the side of the living temptress I call my mate, thinking he’s furious with me, but his eyes are on the group of men. “Emris, son of Alpha Kael.” the older man says. “I haven't seen you since your father’s death—” “Don’t start with me, old foolish man!” My mate hisses. The son of the older man comes close. “It’s me you hate, Emris. Leave my father out of it. After all, only one of us still has a father left.” The male insults the devastating storm that is my Alpha and walks out the door. The older man follows, and the hefty Beta is the last to exit. “Everyone. Leave.” Emris’s voice isn’t loud, but the store employees and customers run for the exits. Including the owner of the establishment. I don’t think there’s a soul in West Virginia who doesn’t know who Emris is, or the danger that radiates from him. As soon as everyone leaves, I start to explain. “I’m sorry I took so long. My… my stuff fell and—” “First, you throw that puppy, Paxton, in my face. And now I find you cozying up to that dying old man Ronin and his waste-of-space son, Slade. Are you seriously this desperate for attention, or just profoundly stupid?” My eyes widen in genuine shock. That was Slade? The rival Alpha Emris has hated since they were boys? The one from the Lion Pride pack? “I swear, Emris, I didn’t know—” I don’t get to finish when kicks a nearby display, sending a whole aisle of canned goods to the floor. “Why are you doing this!?” I clamp my hands over my ears. “Why am I doing this!?” He kicks another shelf which topples like dominoes, scattering products everywhere before he storms back to me. “I saw him slip you his card. What’s your price, Demetra? Huh? Was my bed not enough of a platform for you to audition for your next role? Are you planning to be Slade’s new step-mom or Slade’s little whore? After acting so damn pure with me, refusing the things I try to give you… you come here to meet with Slade? To become his whore, just like you are to me?” Emris’ words don’t just hurt. They dissolve me. The heat behind my eyes instantly melts into tears that stream down my face. “W-whore? You are the only person I have ever been with!” “Then what do you call a person who is available for me to use morning and night? A convenience. You clean up my messes and warm my bed. I didn't call you anything you haven't proven yourself to be. Now, take whatever pathetic offer that old man gave you and get the hell out of my life forever.” Emris turns to leave but I run after him, furious tears blinding me as I throw my arms around his back like an idiot. “How can you call me that!?” I weep on his shirt. Emris pries my hands off with cold strength. “I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the interaction—” “I tried so hard! I refused your gifts, your money… I did everything I could so you would never, ever look at me that way! But at the end of the day, this is what you think of me? You have no heart, Emris. You are dark. You are…” I gasp for air as the insult dies on my tongue. “I am Alpha! My father is dead and I will be Alpha soon. If you’re still in my territory when I formalize my title, I will personally escort you down the Walk of Judgment. I’ll make sure the entire pack knows exactly what you are.” The Walk of Judgment is a nightmare. A walk of shame where the pack forces you out while throwing filth at you, sometimes tearing the clothes from your back. It’s the ultimate disgrace before being cast out to become a rogue. And he just threatened me with it. I force Emris to face me again. “It’s me, Demetra! Why are you acting this way? It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know that was Slade! I didn’t know who they were!” “And he gave you a card. You might be naive enough to believe that was a coincidence, but I’m not, Demetra. So much for loyalty. How long has this been going on? How long have you been spreading your legs for Slade? Or is the old man getting a turn, too?” Emris insults are too much so I slap him! His head snaps to the side. Once I do that, there is only the sound of his breathing. His chest begins to rise, and rise, and rise so I move away. “We’re done.” Emris storms out. I watch through the glassed door as he speaks to the mall owner before getting into his car and speeding away, leaving me in the wreckage. 4 Demetra. Slowly, I sink to my knees and weep from my lungs so deep it feels like it will break me. I am inconsolable, lost in a storm of tears when a timid voice speaks. “Miss? The… the man said you are the one to clean up the mess he made.” I look up at the mall owner and I frown into tears. How can we be over when I carry a new life, a part of him, inside my belly? ******** I get back to the pack house a little past midnight. My body aches everywhere…. like even my bones are tired. I don’t bother turning on the light; I just crawl into bed and start crying all over again. The kind of crying that makes your throat hurt. Slade. Of all people, it had to be him. Emris hates Slade more than he hates any other enemy. He’s the son of Alpha Ronni from the Lion Pride Pack. The Lion Pride Pack and the Black Covenant share a territory….joined by waters, separated by Alphas. They’re rich, powerful but Emris would rather die than be in the same room as them. I didn’t even recognize them! The older man just… he thought I was someone else. My phone glows in the dark: 2:17 AM. A part of me still wants to go to him, to tell him again that this is a mistake. Maybe if he just listens one more time, he’ll see it. Why does loving him make me feel like such an idiot? I know deep down he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve me. And yet… I still do. When I finally wake up, it’s because someone’s tapping my arm. “Demetra!” It’s the head chef’s voice. “Goodness, child, I thought you were dead for a second. Do you realize you’ve slept two hours past your shift? Emris’ suite—” Once I see it’s morning, I leap out of bed and dash into the bathroom. I’m so dead. I’m supposed to clean Emris’s room before he gets back from the gym. If even one of his stupid, expensive things is out of place, he throws a fit. Then he’s late for breakfast, and the whole pack knows it’s my fault. I shower and throw on my uniform then take the elevator straight up to the penthouse level. I start planning my apology in my head as I move into Emris’ floor. Suddenly, I stop because standing right in the middle of the living room are Elena and Luna Derisha. And Luna Derisha is holding something lacy and blue between her fingers. My bra. It’s the one Emris took yesterday. The one I told him, over and over, to give back. I forget how to breathe but I have to say something. “Lu… Luna.” Luna Derisha’s violet eyes look almost black. “Who owns this?” I rub my hands on my apron like that’ll make me look less guilty. “Um… I don’t know.” I lie. The door behind me swings open and Radu fills the threshold like a dark mountain. He is the Luna’s gamma, the wolf everyone hushes for in the halls. He’s the one who rescued Emris after he was kidnapped and caged for two years as a kid. Radu doesn’t waste words, he only growls and moves when the Luna says so. Seeing him here means this isn’t just a scolding; it’s an execution. “You fucking slut! You’re trying to seduce my son. You put your bra in my son’s closet.” Elena shakes her head. “How old are you to be acting so shameless? You’re at least seven years younger than Emris!?” “Luna, it’s not… it’s not mine.” “It smells like you. Filthy. My son, who is going to be Alpha, is the person you’re trying to seduce? You’re just like that maggot of a mother who gave birth to you! That bitch spread her legs for every man in the pack just to climb the ladder, and you ended up following the worst of her traits—” Her hot hand snatches my hair! Then, Luna Derisha uses it to bring to my knees. It’s so painful, so utterly painful and shocking that I taste metal and then white light. I see a bunch of my hair in her hands and then I feel blood coming from my scalp. I look up in tears. “It’s not yours. Fine. We’ll test it, then. Bring her downstairs where all the pack employees look. I will use this bitch as a lesson.” “Luna, please! Luna, please!” My screams are short as Radu’s massive hand closes around my ankle. He doesn’t even lift me; he just uses my own body to drag me across the floor. My uniform rides as I twist and kick, but it doesn’t matter. By the time we reach the hall downstairs, every pack employee is there. Cooks, cleaners, security, everyone is looking at me at the centre. I’m trembling on my knees. I’ve always feared Luna Derisha, but never like this. Never when Emris isn’t here to stop her. “I hope you’re all watching…” Elena says loudly. “This is what happens to anyone who thinks they can seduce the future Alpha. Your little colleague here hid her bra in his closet, and now she’s pretending it isn’t hers.” Luna Derisha tosses the fabric at my face. “If you say it’s not yours, prove it.” I am not able to stop shaking. “But Luna….” the head chef speaks up for me. “In front of everyone?” “Are you questioning me?” “Apologies, Luna! Apologies!” I crawl forward on my hands and knees in tears. I grab the hem of Luna Derisha’s designer dress. “Please. Forgive me. I’ll never do anything like this again. Please.” “Luna, I’m begging you. Pleaseee-“ “You should have thought of that before you tried to disgrace my family.” Luna Derisha looks at Radu and I hear his boots coming forward. I feel Radu’s hands on the back of my uniform and the fabric rips straight down my back. I scream, trying to cover myself. “Rip the bra, too so she can try this one.” Radu obeys. The straps of my own bra snap, and I sob, using my long white hair as a pathetic curtain to hide my body. Through the veil of my hair, I see some of the male employees turn their backs so they don’t watch. The girls just stare in horror. I am naked, on my knees, utterly broken. Through, my sobs, I hear the one sound that could make this worse. The sound of the Luna’s sons. Emris. Silver and Regan. I’m shivering, naked and exposed on my knees, when I look up and see them standing there. “What the hell is going on here!?” Emris yells, looking at me. Elena and Luna Derisha spin around. They hadn’t seen him come in. “Mom, what the hell.” Silver says. Regan, the other brother, just chuckles. “Isn’t she Emris’s pretty little housekeeper?” “No, she is her mother’s daughter!” Luna Derisha shrieks. “And I don’t care what you say today, I will punish her mercilessly! Put on the bra, now!” I squeeze my eyes shut. I will rather die right here than be humiliated any further. “Demetra!” I hear Paxton’s voice, and he’s already at my side. Before I can say anything, he uses his own chef’s coat as a wrap around my shoulders. “Paxton.” I shake my head. “She needs more cover!” He yells to anyone who’ll listen and for a second, I think he might fight them all. “Paxton!?” Susan, the head chef calls out to warn him but he doesn’t answer. Then I hear a rumbling growl from Radu. My eyes dart up just in time to see the massive Gamma take a step forward to make an example of Radu but Emris moves faster. He doesn’t go for Radu. He goes straight for Paxton, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him away from me. “The Luna gives an order and you bring yourself into the middle of it!” I can see it in Emris eyes. This isn’t just about the Luna’s command. This is all the jealousy he’s been holding for Paxton, finally finding a public excuse to explode. “Demetra would never try to seduce you! There has to be some mistake!” Paxton chokes in Emris’s grip. “We all know Demetra! She’s kind, she’s content, and she’s worked her entire life for this pack!” Emris’s eyes flash with a dark, wicked fire. “What are you… her little lover?” I watch, horrified, as his hand tightens around Paxton’s throat. Paxton’s face begins to turn a terrifying shade of purple. “Stop!” I yell. “If I were her lover, so what?” Paxton gasps. “Are we so little to you that we are not worth your love, too? If I were, what does it even matter to—” Emris hurls Paxton across the room into the bar cellar in an explosion of shattering glass and wood. The crowd screams, some scatter in fear, others rush to help him. I get up to see if he’s okay. But Emris has something to say to me. “Get out of my pack now!” The shout makes my whole wolf skitter and break in half. 5 Demetra. “But you know I have only you.” I whisper. I need him to remember. I need him to remember that in this entire, cruel world, he’s the only one I have. “What the hell do you mean by that!?” Elena inserts herself. Emris eyes are empty. “You have ten minutes to leave the pack house. If she doesn’t, Radu makes sure she leaves with a claw mark as a souvenir.” Then he walks away. Susan is the first to reach me. “Come on, sweetheart, quickly!” When we reach my room, she lets go so I can pack. I pull on a shirt with trembling hands. My fingers fumble with the zipper of an old bag I drag out from the closet. My chest hurts; my throat burns. I’m shaking so badly it’s hard to fold anything right. I keep thinking: I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and I have nowhere to go. No one to call family. My mate, the only person I ever thought I had just destroyed me. With five minutes left before Radu comes, I can’t breathe. That’s when I see the business card Alpha Ronni gave me, lying at the corner of my mirror table. His name, his number. I grab it. When I step out, Summer, Susan, and the others are waiting in the hallway. One by one, they hug me quickly, whispering goodbyes. I don’t trust myself to speak so I just keep moving before I fall apart. Downstairs, Luna Derisha is waiting. Silver and Regan step aside to let me through. “Elena?” Luna says lightly, “just promise me that right after you and Emris are married, you’ll give me a grandchild.” Elena smiles. “Of course, Mother-in-law.” I press a trembling hand to my stomach and swallow the scream sitting in my throat. Emris, I swear you’ll never know that I left with a part of you. I leave the Black Covenant Pack house and I don’t look back. Outside the gate, I just carry my light bag and think. Do I call? Do I not? Alpha Ronni barely knows me. No one outside this territory even knows me. I check my wallet and there’s a few bucks at most. Luna Derisha always said food and a bed were my payment so I can’t even afford a motel. I need help. I take out my phone, type in the number on the card, and call. “Hello?” I try not to cry. “Yes… um, I’m Demetra.” I stammer into the phone. “We met — at the store. I was with Emris that day. You are Alpha Ronni—” There’s a pause, then a deep, surprised voice. “Yes, you. I can’t believe you’re calling. Are you all right?” “I…I’m sorry to bother you, Alpha. I just… I have nowhere else to go. That’s why I called.” Silence. I hear my own heartbeat. My mind starts racing and I think what am I doing? He’s an Alpha. I shouldn’t even be calling him. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be calling you. You’re—” “Where are you right now?” “I’m just outside the Black Covenant gates.” I look around me. “I’ll send an escort. A convoy of cars. You’ll be brought to safety at once. Don’t move. Do you understand me?” “Yes…yes Alpha.” The line goes dead, and I clutch the phone to my chest. I look down at my belly and make a promise that Emris will never get to know of my child. He will search for me but he will never find. This heart will never forgive him. This heart will never forgive everyone in the Black covenant pack. ********** Five years later. West Virginia Airport. “Tired?” My dad, Alpha Ronin, wraps his hand around mine in the first-class seat. It’s warm. Six hours from Manila and my butt is sore. “I’m beyond tired.” I mumble through a yawn and glance sideways. “She’s still asleep?” Amira, my daughter is hugging Grandpa’s arms with her mouth slightly open after being a menace the entire flight. The air hostess approaches, politely informing us that the path is clear for us to leave the plane. I start gathering my laptop, my sketchbook, pens— “Mr. Pride, Miss. Pride, this way.” We don’t lift a finger. Not for the bags, not for anything. The moment our feet touch the ground, a black car is already waiting to take us straight from the plane One of the many, many perks of being the daughter of the Alpha of the Lion pack. It still feels a little like playing dress-up, like any minute someone’s going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Okay, fun’s over. Back to being the Black covenant’s charity case.” Five years ago, I called the number on that business card, not knowing I was dialing my own future. Back then in that store, Alpha Ronin recognized me not because he knew me…but because he knew my mother. A one-night stand. A mistake. Or maybe fate being cruelly efficient. White hair is pretty rare for wolves. Most people bleach or dye it, trying to look cool or intimidating. So it’s hard to spot a true one in the wild. But Alpha Ronin said he saw her in my face and the shape of my eyes. He had to be sure if I was his. When I called him, a fleet of cars arrived like and I was taken to the Lion Pack estate. They didn’t treat me like a stray. They treated me like a person. Like family, even before we knew for sure. That was when I met Slade. My half-brother. Then Alpha Ronin said my mother’s name and suddenly, everything clicked. The Black Covenant Pack had told me the history of my mother and since Alpha Ronin claimed he had a one-night stand with her, I agreed for a DNA test. It proved that Alpha Ronin was my father. All that time, I’d been an Alpha’s daughter, living on my knees. All those years I spent surviving as a charity case, I was the daughter of an Alpha. I nursed my broken heart for a year straight. Some days it nearly kills me but I survived because I wasn’t not alone. Then I give birth to Amira. And somehow, I break all over again. She has Emris’ hair. His eyebrows. His face hiding in hers so clearly it hurts to look at her for too long. Every time I hold her, the truth settles deeper into my bones that she is going to grow up without knowing her father. He doesn’t know she exists. And even if he did… I’m not sure he would care. That thought almost destroyed me. But Amira also saves me. I find strength in her tiny hands, in the way she curls against my chest like I’m her entire world. My dad notices the way I’m fading so he makes the decision for me when I’m too weak to make it myself. I need to leave the country so I choose Paris without really thinking. It sounds far away enough. I don’t realize what it will become until I’m standing inside the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen…flowers everywhere, gardens and that’s where I begin to paint. I paint my pain. I paint my past. I paint my heartbreak. I put every ounce of "him" and every ounce of onto those canvases. I shut out the entire world, focused only on my little girl and the colors on my palette. I started going to art school, not to find myself, but to prove I could. And then I sold my first piece. The first bidder wanted it for hundreds of millions. Just like that, I wasn't just Demetra. I was Demetra Pride, the millionaire artist who came out of nowhere. That sale did something more than fill my bank account. It gave me a new bone structure, one made of confidence. I believed I could do anything. In Paris, dad retires from leading the pack just to be with me and his granddaughter. For a while, it’s just us but now… after five years, we are back. We’ve returned to support Slade as he fully takes the reins of the pack. And Dad… he says it’s my duty, too. To help run it alongside my brother. He doesn’t want Amira growing up away from her entire family, from her legacy. I’m ready. I no longer nurse a broken heart. I have nothing to run from anymore. When we arrive at the pack house, everyone is already waiting. Dad squeezes my hand as we walk toward the entrance. "Ready, cub?" That’s his nickname for me. I squeeze back. "Born ready."

Chapter 1 The ballroom sparkled with golden lights. Lucia stood near the entrance in her blue dress, the one she bought just for tonight. She kept touching her necklace. The silver one. Marco gave it to her on their first date. People smiled. Friends. Family. Neighbors. They said congratulations. They said everything looked beautiful. She planned it all. Every flower. Every candle. Every tiny detail. "Mrs. Hart, you look so happy," someone said. She was happy. She thought she was. The door opened. Marco walked in with a woman. Young. Maybe twenty-five. Blonde hair. Red dress tight against her body. She held Marco's arm like she owned him. Lucia's smile died. The room got smaller. Hotter. She couldn't breathe right. Marco looked at her. His eyes were cold. Empty. "Everyone, listen up." His voice cut through everything. The music. The laughter. The joy. The room went silent. Everyone turned. Stared at him. At the woman. At Lucia. "This is Margaret," Marco said. No feeling in his voice. Nothing. "I'm leaving Lucia for her." The words punched into Lucia's chest. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. What? "We've been together for two years." Marco's voice stayed calm. Like this was normal. "Margaret is moving into the house. Lucia's things are packed. They're in the garage." Two years. She made his breakfast. Washed his shirts. Slept beside him. Kissed him goodnight. Two years of lies. "Marco." Her voice cracked. "This is our anniversary. Our party. The children..." "The children know," Margaret said. Sweet voice. Too sweet. "They've known for months. They support us." No. Where were they? Ria? Lucas? Monica? There. Corner of the room. All three standing together. Ria stared at her. Sixteen with Marco's eyes. She crossed her arms. "Mom, just sign the papers. You're making this harder than it needs to be." The words cut. Deep. "Ria, baby, I don't..." "Dad's been unhappy for years," Lucas said. Fifteen. Her boy who used to be scared of thunder. "We all knew. Everyone knew except you." Monica giggled. Thirteen. The baby Lucia still tucked in at night sometimes. "Margaret takes us shopping. She actually listens to us. You never do." Lucia's legs shook. The floor tilted. Was she falling? Standing? She didn't know anymore. "I gave you everything." She looked at Marco. The man she loved. The man she believed in. "Everything I had." "You gave too much," Marco said. He pulled papers from his jacket. Divorce papers. "You smothered me. Margaret gives me freedom. She makes me feel like a man again." Margaret smiled. Victory written all over her face. "Sign them." Marco held out a pen. "Here?" Tears filled Lucia's eyes. "Now? In front of everyone?" "You're embarrassing yourself," Ria said. "Just do it already." People watched. Some turned away. Others whispered. Some pulled out phones. Taking pictures. Recording. Her pain as entertainment. Lucia's hand shook. She took the pen. The paper blurred. She couldn't read it. Didn't matter. She signed anyway. Her name looked strange. Broken. Not hers. Marco grabbed the papers. Folded them. Put them away. No thank you. No sorry. Nothing. "Leave now," Margaret said. "Your boxes are labeled. Don't take anything that isn't yours." "That house..." Lucia's voice was barely there. "I made it a home." "It's in my name," Marco said. "Always was. You have no claim." Ria stepped closer. "Mom, seriously. Everyone's uncomfortable. Just leave." "Yeah," Lucas said. "This is awkward." Monica laughed again. High. Cruel. Lucia looked at them. Her babies. She carried them. Fed them. Loved them. They looked at her like trash. "I loved you," she whispered. To all of them. "So much." "Not enough," Marco said. He pulled Margaret close. Kissed her. Right there. In front of Lucia. In front of everyone. Some people gasped. Others cheered. Lucia's feet moved. One step. Another. Through the crowd. Out the door. Rain. Heavy and cold. It soaked her dress in seconds. The special dress. Ruined now. She walked. Didn't know where. Her feet hurt in the heels but she kept going. Past houses with warm lights. Families inside. Real families. The tears came. Hot against her cold face. Her whole body shook. Remember when Ria took her first steps? Right into Lucia's arms. Lucia cried then too. Happy tears. Remember when Lucas learned to ride a bike? He fell. Scraped his knee. Lucia held him. Kissed it better. Remember when Monica drew that picture in kindergarten? Four stick figures holding hands. "That's us, Mommy. Our family." Gone. All of it. She fell. Her knees hit wet concrete. Hands in dirty water. She didn't get up. Couldn't. Thunder. Lightning. The sky was angry. Like her insides. Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out. Message from Marco. "Don't contact the children. Don't contact me. Move on." Move on. Like it was easy. Like she could just forget. Another message. Ria. "Mom, you're so dramatic. We're all happier without you. Accept it." The phone slipped from her hand. Fell into water. Screen went black. She stayed there. On her knees. Water soaking through her dress to her skin. Cold. So cold. Cars passed. No one stopped. She was nothing. Nobody wanted her. Not her husband. Not her children. Nobody. The necklace. She grabbed it. The silver one Marco gave her. Twenty years ago. When he said he loved her. When he promised forever. Lies. She ripped it off. The chain broke. She threw it into the street. Her makeup ran down her face in black streaks. Her hair stuck to her cheeks. Her dress clung heavy to her body. She tried to stand. Her legs wouldn't work right. They shook. Weak. Finally up. Barely. She looked back at the ballroom. The lights still glowed. Music still played. They were still celebrating. Without her. Celebrating her ending. A sound came from her throat. Half laugh. Half sob. Wrong. Broken. She turned away. Started walking again. Water in her shoes. Each step hurt. Where was she going? Didn't matter. She had nowhere. No home. Marco took it. No family. They chose Margaret. No money. Everything was in Marco's name. Nothing. She had nothing. The street blurred. More tears. Or maybe just the water running into her eyes. Remember their wedding day? Marco said she was beautiful. He said he'd never leave. He promised. Liar. Remember Ria's birth? Sixteen hours of labor. Worth it. Every second. To hold her baby. That baby just told her to leave. Remember Lucas's first word? Mama. He said mama. He reached for her. That boy said everyone knew except her. Like she was stupid. Remember Monica's first day of school? She cried. Didn't want Lucia to go. Held onto her leg. That girl laughed at her. In front of everyone. How? How did they all stop loving her? When did it happen? Was she blind? Stupid? Was she really that bad? Her chest hurt. Actual physical pain. Like something inside was tearing apart. She stopped walking. Middle of the sidewalk. Water pooled around her feet. A woman passed by. Looked at her. Looked away quick. Kept walking. Another person. A man. He crossed the street to avoid her. She was that woman now. The one people avoided. The one they pitied. The one they whispered about. Did you hear? Her husband left her at their anniversary party. For a younger woman. Even her kids don't want her. Poor thing. She didn't want pity. She wanted her life back. Her family. Her home. Her heart. But it was gone. All of it. She started walking again. Had to keep moving. If she stopped she might never start again. The water kept falling. Getting harder. Heavier. Her whole body was numb now. From cold. From pain. From everything. Somewhere a dog barked. A car horn honked. Normal sounds. Normal night. For everyone else. For her, everything ended. She thought about going back. Begging. Maybe if she said sorry. Maybe if she promised to change. Be better. Be whatever Marco wanted. No. She saw his face. Cold. Done with her. She saw Margaret. Smiling. Winning. She saw her children. Looking at her like she was nothing. They didn't want her back. They wanted her gone. She was gone now. Walking in the dark. In the rain. Alone. Her shoes rubbed blisters into her feet. She took them off. Held them in one hand. Kept walking barefoot. The concrete was rough. Cold. Hurt her feet. Good. The pain was good. It meant she was still real. Still here. Still something. Even if that something was broken. She passed a store window. Saw her reflection. Didn't recognize herself. Hair wild. Face streaked. Dress hanging off her body. She looked destroyed. She was destroyed. Somewhere behind her the party continued. Marco and Margaret probably dancing now. Her children probably eating cake. Laughing. Happy. Without her. Like she never mattered at all. The thought made her stomach turn. She bent over. Nothing came up. Just dry heaving. Her body trying to reject reality. She straightened up. Kept walking. Had to keep walking. Didn't know where. Didn't know why. Just knew she couldn't stop. Because if she stopped, if she stood still, she might break into pieces so small no one could ever put her back together. So she walked. Alone. Barefoot. In the rain that wouldn't stop falling. Chapter 2 Lucia didn't plan to walk to the bridge. Her feet just took her there. The river below was black. Angry. Water rushing fast and loud. She gripped the railing. Metal cold. Wet. Slippery. How did she get here? Just walking. Walking. Then the bridge. The water below looked like it could swallow everything. All the hurt. All the pain. Her phone buzzed. Marco. "Where are you? People are asking questions. You're embarrassing me." She stared at the screen. Her fingers shook. Embarrassing him. Another buzz. "Answer me, Lucia. Don't make this worse than it already is." She didn't respond. Her phone kept buzzing. Message after message. "If you're trying to get attention, it won't work. I'm done with your drama. Answer me now." "You're being childish." "Grow up, Lucia." "Think about the children. You're embarrassing them too." The children. But Marco was worried about embarrassing them? She looked at the railing. At the gap between the bars. No job. She stopped working when Ria was born. Marco said they didn't need her income. Said she should focus on the family. So she did. No career. No money of her own. Nothing. Where was she supposed to go? The house was Margaret's. Everything in Marco's name. Her friends? Couple friends. Marco's work friends and their wives. They'd pick his side. Her family? Her parents died five years ago. Car accident. She had no siblings. No one. The river kept rushing below. Her phone buzzed again. "Fine. Don't answer. But you're signing more papers tomorrow. My lawyer will contact you. Don't make this difficult." She turned the phone off. Shoved it in her pocket. Before Marco, there was someone else. Not a boyfriend. A friend. Alexander. Alex. Her best friend since she was seven. They grew up on the same street. Rode bikes together. Did homework together. Told each other everything. When she got engaged to Marco, Alex stopped talking to her. Just like that. One day they were best friends. The next day he was gone. She tried calling. Texting. He never answered. That was eighteen years ago. She hadn't seen him since. Another person who left her. Who would want her now? No job. No skills. No money. Three kids who hated her. No one. She climbed onto the first bar of the railing. Her bare feet slipped. She gripped tighter. The water looked closer. Darker. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Ria with tiny fingers wrapped around her thumb. Lucia used to sing lullabies. Made up songs. That baby told her to leave tonight. Lucas scared of shadows. Loud noises. Dogs. Lucia held him through it all. That boy said everyone knew Marco was unhappy. Except stupid Lucia. Monica. Pink and screaming and perfect when she was born. That girl laughed when Lucia signed the divorce papers. How did she lose them? The rain fell harder. Her dress stuck to her skin. Heavy. She climbed higher. Second bar. Her feet barely fit. She wobbled. The water roared below. What would happen if she jumped? Marco would be relieved. No messy divorce. He'd comfort Margaret. Play the grieving husband. Poor Marco. So tragic. The kids would be fine. They had Margaret. They didn't need Lucia. Nobody did. What was the point? Get a job at a store? Rent a tiny apartment? Start over? Her bones hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt. Maybe it was easier to just stop. She looked down at the water. It didn't look scary anymore. It looked peaceful. Final. She let go with one hand. Held on with just the other. The wind pushed against her. She closed her eyes. Took a breath. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. She let go with the other hand. For a second she just stood there. Balanced. Then her foot slipped. Wet metal. No grip. She was falling. No. Wait. Her arms flailed. Reaching for anything. Just air. The water rushed up. Wrong wrong wrong. She wanted to scream but her throat closed. Falling. Fast. A sound behind her. Footsteps? Running? She didn't have time to look. The wind howled in her ears. Or was that her own breath? Her own terror? Faster. The water below black and waiting. Her dress whipped around her legs. Her hair flew into her face. This was it. Then something grabbed her arm. Hard. A hand. Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. Squeezed. Held tight. The falling stopped. She hung there. One arm stretched up. The other dangling. Body swinging over the water. The hand pulled. She rose a little. But her wrist was slippery. Wet from the rain. The grip started to slide. No no no. She swung her other arm up. Desperate. Clawing at air. The hand adjusted. Grabbed tighter. Different angle now. Both hands gripping her arm. Pulling. Her shoulder burned. Felt like it might rip out of the socket. But she was rising. Inch by inch. Thunder cracked overhead. Lightning lit up the sky for a second. In that flash she saw the water below. Close. So close. Her feet kicked. Found nothing. Just empty space. The hand kept pulling. Strong. Steady. Not letting go. She scrambled with her feet. Finally touched the railing. Cold metal agai nst her toes. She pushed. The hand pulled. Then she was over. Back on the bridge. She collapsed. Hands and knees on wet concrete. Gasping. Shaking. The hand stayed on her shoulder. Steady. Warm despite everything. Chapter 3 Lucia looked up. Rain poured down his face. Dark hair plastered to his forehead. But those eyes. Brown. Familiar. "Alex?" Her voice came out hoarse. "It's me." He knelt beside her on the wet concrete. "You're okay now." Alexander Kane. Her best friend. The one who vanished eighteen years ago. Here. Saving her. She couldn't process it. Her brain felt foggy. "Can you stand?" he asked. She didn't know. Could she? He helped her up. Her legs shook. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "My car is just over there." He pointed. "Let me take you somewhere dry." She nodded. Couldn't speak. He guided her across the bridge. Each step felt wrong. Like she shouldn't be walking. Shouldn't be breathing. His car was black. Expensive looking. He opened the passenger door. Helped her inside. The seat was leather. Soft. She sank into it. He got in the driver's side. Started the engine. Heat blasted from the vents. "Where do you live?" he asked. "I'll take you home." Home. The word stabbed. "I can't." The words stuck. "Marco. He. The house." She couldn't finish. Alex looked at her. At her ruined dress. Her bare feet. Her destroyed face. "Okay," he said quietly. "You'll come to my place then." She wanted to say no. But where would she go? So she said nothing. He drove. She stared out the window. Buildings passed. Lights blurred. They drove for twenty minutes. Then he turned onto a long driveway. Trees lined both sides. Tall. The driveway went on forever. Then she saw it. A mansion. Actual mansion with columns and big windows and gardens. "You live here?" The words came out small. "Yeah." He parked in front of wide stone steps. "Come on." The front door was huge. Wood with carvings. He pushed it open. Inside was. She didn't have words. Marble floors. A staircase that curved up. Paintings. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "This way." Alex led her through hallways. Past rooms she couldn't look at properly. Her mind was too tired. He stopped at a door. Opened it. "Guest room. The bathroom is through there." He pointed. "Take a hot shower. I'll find you something to wear." She walked in. The room was bigger than the bedroom she used to have. Used to. Past tense. The bed had white sheets. Fluffy pillows. "Lucia." Alex's voice made her turn. "You're safe here. Okay?" He left. Closed the door. She stood there. Dripping water on expensive carpet. The bathroom. Right. She walked through the door. Marble everywhere. A tub big enough to swim in. A shower with glass walls. She turned on the water. Steam filled the space. She peeled off her dress. It fell in a wet heap. She stepped into the shower. The water burned her skin. She didn't care. She stood under the spray until her fingers pruned. When she got out, there were towels. Big. Soft. White. And clothes on the counter. A t-shirt. Sweatpants. Too big for her. Must be Alex's. She put them on. Rolled up the pants. Back in the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed. Stared at her hands. A knock on the door. "Come in," she said. Alex walked in with a tray. A mug. Steam rising from it. "Tea," he said. "Chamomile. My daughter swears by it." Daughter. Alex had a daughter. Eighteen years. People had whole lives in that time. "Thank you." She took the mug. Wrapped her hands around it. He sat in a chair across from the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" "Marco left me." The words tumbled out. "Tonight. At our anniversary party. In front of everyone. He's been with someone else for two years. The kids knew. They wanted him to leave me." Saying it made it real. Made it hurt more. "I'm sorry," Alex said. "Why were you on that bridge?" she asked. He was quiet for a moment. "I was driving home. Saw someone on the railing. I stopped." "You didn't know it was me?" "Not until I grabbed you." He leaned forward. "Lucia, what were you doing?" She couldn't answer that. "I didn't know where else to go," she whispered instead. "You can stay here. As long as you need." "I can't." "Why not?" Because she'd already taken too much from people. Because she was a burden. "Stay," Alex said. "At least for a week. Figure out your next steps." A week. Then what? But she nodded. "Try to sleep," Alex said. He stood. Walked to the door. "I'm down the hall if you need anything." He left. She put the mug on the nightstand. Lay down. Pulled the covers up. The sheets smelled clean. Fresh. Nothing like before. She closed her eyes. Didn't think she'd sleep. But exhaustion pulled her under anyway. When she woke, sunlight streamed through the windows. Bright. Harsh. For a second she didn't know where she was. Then it all came back. She sat up. Her body ached. Her head pounded. A clock on the nightstand said 9:47. Her phone. Where was her phone? She found it on the dresser. Alex must have brought it in. She turned it on. Messages flooded in. Marco. Seventeen of them. She scrolled past those. Then she saw one from an unknown number. She opened it. "Hi Lucia! It's Margaret. Marco gave me your number. Hope you don't mind! Quick question, where do you keep your face products? I want to try your routine. Your skin always looked so glowy!" Lucia stared at the screen. Face products? She hadn't used face products in years. Just soap. Water. Whatever was cheap at the store. But Margaret thought. Margaret assumed. Another message came through. "Also, do you have a specific brand for your hair? It always looked so shiny!" Shiny. Lucia touched her hair. Dry. Frizzy. Damaged from years of cheap shampoo. She wanted to throw the phone. Wanted to scream. But she did nothing. Just turned the phone off. Put it back on the dresser. A knock on the door. "Come in," she said. The door burst open. A girl bounced in. Curly dark hair. Big smile. Energy radiating off her. "Hi! You're awake! Dad said not to bother you but I couldn't wait anymore. I'm Lena!" Lena. Alex's daughter. "Hi," Lucia managed. "Dad said you're staying with us for a bit. That's so cool. We never have guests. Well, we do but they're boring business people. You're different. I can tell." The girl talked fast. Bright. Bubbly. "I'm Lucia," she said. "I know! Dad told me. He said you were friends a long time ago. Like before I was born." Lena sat on the edge of the bed. Uninvited but somehow not intrusive. "How old are you?" Lucia asked. "Fifteen. Well, fifteen and a half." Same age as Lucas. The thought stabbed. "Are you okay?" Lena's smile faded. "You look sad." "I'm fine," Lucia lied. "Dad says that too. When he's not fine. Adults always say they're fine." Smart kid. "I have kids," Lucia said. Didn't know why she said it. "Three of them." "Cool! Where are they?" "They don't want me." Lena's face scrunched up. "That's stupid. Kids always want their moms." If only. "My mom died," Lena said. Casual. "Cancer. I was five. I barely remember her." "I'm sorry." "It's okay. I mean it's not. But I'm okay. Dad made sure." Lena picked at the blanket. "He's really good at taking care of people. Even when he's sad. He was really sad after Mom died." Ten years. Alex's wife died ten years ago. "You live in this huge place," Lucia said. "Just the two of you?" "Yep. Well, and the staff. Maria cooks. Roberto does the gardens." Lena shrugged. "It's a lot of space. Gets lonely sometimes. But Dad works a lot. Building companies. I don't really get it. Just know he's really rich." Extremely wealthy. Looking around, it was obvious. "Must be nice," Lucia said. "Sometimes." Lena's smile came back. "Other times it's weird. People at school treat me different. They want to be my friend because of Dad's money. Not because they like me." "That sounds hard." "It is. But you learn who's real and who's fake pretty fast." Lena stood. "Anyway! Dad said to tell you breakfast is ready when you want." Lucia looked at the clock. Almost ten. "Come down when you're ready!" Lena headed for the door. Turned back. "I'm really glad you're here. The house feels less empty." She left. Lucia got out of bed. Found the bathroom again. Splashed water on her face. Looked in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy. Red. Her face was pale. She looked like a ghost. Stop it. She went downstairs. Followed the sound of voices. The kitchen was huge. White cabinets. Marble counters. An island in the middle. Alex stood at the stove. Lena sat on a stool. They were laughing about something. They looked happy. She stood in the doorway. Suddenly feeling like an intruder. Alex saw her. "Hey. You're up. Hungry?" "I don't know," she said honestly. "Well, I made eggs. And toast. And bacon. And pancakes because Lena insisted." "I always insist," Lena said. "Pancakes are life." Lucia sat on a stool. Alex put a plate in front of her. But she picked up a fork. Took a bite. It tasted like nothing. But she chewed. Swallowed. "So," Alex said. Leaning against the counter. "You can stay here. Week or so. Figure out what you want to do next." Lucia's hands tightened around the fork. "I can't pay you." "I'm not asking you to." Her throat closed up. "I don't have anything." "Then stay until you do." Alex's voice was gentle. "No pressure." Lena grabbed her arm. "Please stay! I've always wanted another girl in this house." Something in Lucia's chest cracked. This girl. This bright girl who didn't know her. Who had no reason to want her here. But she did. "Okay," Lucia whispered. "Great!" Lena squeezed her arm. "This is going to be so fun!" Fun. When was the last time Lucia had fun? She couldn't remember. Alex smiled at her. Small. Understanding. For the first time since Marco walked in with Margaret, something other than pain settled in her chest. Not hope. Not quite. But possibility. Maybe. Chapter 4 Alex stood in his office. Door closed. Locked. He stared at the monitor on his desk. Security footage from the guest room hallway. Lucia was still asleep. He rubbed his face. Hadn't slept. Just watched. Made sure she didn't leave. Didn't hurt herself. His phone buzzed. Thomas. His private investigator. "Confirmed. Marco Lewis filed divorce papers this morning. Moving fast." Alex's jaw clenched. Of course. Lock everything down before Lucia could think straight. He typed back. "Keep monitoring. I want to know everything." He put the phone down. Looked at the monitor again. Lucia. Thirty-three years he'd loved her. Thirty-three years of watching from the shadows. He was seven when he met her. She was seven too. First day of second grade. New kid. Poor kid. His clothes were too big. Hand-me-downs from his older cousin. The other kids laughed. Called him trash. Said he smelled. Then Lucia stood up. Tiny thing with wild hair and a voice that didn't match her size. "Shut up. All of you. He's new and you're being mean." She sat next to him that day. Every day after that. Her family had money. Big house. Nice cars. But she never cared that he had nothing. They were inseparable. Did everything together. Then high school happened. Sixteen years old. She was laughing at something stupid he said. He looked at her and. Oh. Oh no. He fell in love with her that day. Never told her. How could he? She was Lucia Hart. Beautiful. Smart. Rich family. He was Alex Kane. Poor kid with holes in his shoes and a drunk father. So he stayed quiet. Stayed her best friend. Died a little every time she talked about other boys. Then college. Marco showed up. Marco with his car and his clothes and his confidence. Marco who could give her everything Alex couldn't. She fell for him. Fast. Talked about him constantly. Alex listened. Smiled. Pretended his heart wasn't breaking. When she got engaged, he couldn't anymore. Couldn't watch her marry someone else. So he left. Changed his number. Moved cities. Built his company from nothing. Turned heartbreak into empire. And he watched her. Always. Hired Thomas five years after her wedding. Just to check. Make sure she was okay. Reports came. Photos. Updates. Lucia looked content. Three kids. Nice house. He told himself that was enough. She was happy. That mattered. But he kept the reports coming. Couldn't stop. Couldn't let go. Then last week Thomas called. "You need to see this." Photos of Marco. With Margaret. Coming out of hotels. Kissing in parking lots. "How long?" Alex asked. "Two years. Maybe more." His blood boiled. "Find out everything. I want dates. Times. Proof." Thomas delivered. Marco was planning to leave Lucia. Their anniversary party. Public humiliation. Alex tried to stop it. Drove to the venue. But he was too late. People were leaving. Talking. Gossiping. "Did you see her face?" "So embarrassing." He grabbed someone. "Where did Lucia go?" "She ran out. In the rain." He searched. Drove through streets. Panicking. Then he saw her. On the bridge. Climbing the railing. His heart stopped. He ran. Grabbed her wrist just as she fell. And now she was here. In his house. A second chance. He didn't deserve it. But he had her here. That's what mattered. A knock on his office door. "Dad?" Lena. He unlocked the door. She walked in. Looked at him. "You didn't sleep," she said. "I'm fine." "You always say that." She sat across from his desk. "We need to talk about Lucia." "What about her?" "I saw your face this morning. When you looked at her. I've never seen you look at anyone like that. Not even Mom." Alex's chest tightened. "Lena." "Tell me the truth. Who is she?" He sat down. "We were friends. I told you that." "Friends don't look at each other the way you looked at her." Smart kid. Too smart. "She was my best friend. Growing up." "And?" "And I fell in love with her. In high school." Lena leaned forward. "Did you tell her?" "No." "Why not?" "Because I was poor. She was rich. I had nothing." "That's stupid." "Maybe. But that's how it felt." Alex looked at his hands. "Then she met Marco in college. He had everything I didn't." "So you left." "Yeah." "And now she's here." "Yeah." "Do you still love her?" The question hung there. Heavy. "Yeah," Alex whispered. "I never stopped." Lena was quiet. Then. "How did you find her last night? On that bridge?" Alex went cold. "What?" "You just happened to be driving by? That's a pretty big coincidence, Dad." He couldn't lie to her. "I've been keeping track of her. For years. Through an investigator." Lena's eyes widened. "You've been stalking her?" "Not stalking. Making sure she was okay." "Dad. That's literally stalking." "I know. I know it sounds bad. But I needed to know she was safe." "And when you found out about Marco cheating?" "I tried to stop it. Tried to get there before he humiliated her. But I was too late." "So you went looking for her." "Thomas said she left the party. I drove around. Then I saw her on the bridge." Lena stood. Walked to the window. "This is a lot, Dad." "I know." "Does she know? About the investigator? About you watching her?" "No. And she can't know. Not now." "You have to tell her eventually." "I know." "If she finds out on her own, she'll hate you." "I know that too." Alex stood. Walked over to his daughter. "But right now, she needs stability. Not more chaos. Not more betrayal." "You think she'll see it as betrayal?" "Probably." "Do you think she ever loved you? Back then?" The question hurt. He'd asked himself that a thousand times. "I don't know. She never said anything. Never gave any sign." "Or maybe she did love you and you were both too scared to say it." Worse thought. That they could have had something. That he'd wasted years because he was a coward. "Doesn't matter now," Alex said. "She's healing. That's important." "When are you going to tell her?" Lena asked. "About your feelings? About everything?" "Not now." "When?" "I don't know. When she's stronger." "What if she's never ready?" "Then I'll keep it to myself. Like I have for thirty-three years." Lena turned to face him. "That's sad, Dad." "Maybe. But her happiness matters more." "Mom knew, didn't she? About Lucia?" Alex nodded. "Yeah. Sandra knew." "Did she mind?" "She said she didn't. Said she understood. That people carry ghosts. That loving someone unavailable doesn't mean you can't love someone else." "Do you think she was happy? With you?" "I hope so. I tried to make her happy. I really did love her, Lena. Your mom was incredible. Patient. Kind." "But?" "But she wasn't Lucia." The words came out broken. "And that's not fair. To her memory. To you. But it's the truth." Lena walked over. Hugged him. "I'm not mad, Dad. I just want you to be happy. Really happy." "I am happy. I have you." "You know what I mean." He did. "Give it time," he said. "Let Lucia heal. Then maybe." "Promise me you'll tell her. Eventually. About everything." "Lena." "Promise me, Dad. She deserves the truth." He closed his eyes. "I promise. When the time is right." "Good." She pulled back. "Now go shower. You smell like stress." He laughed. First real laugh in days. "I'm serious. Go. I'll make sure Lucia has everything she needs." "Don't tell her anything." "I won't. But you will. Soon." She left. Alex walked back to his desk. Looked at the monitor. Lucia was awake. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking lost. His heart ached. Thirty-three years he'd loved her. Thirty-three years of silence. Maybe Lena was right. Maybe he needed to tell her. But not now. Not when she was broken. He'd wait. Be patient. Be there. And hope. Hope that eventually she might see him as more than just her childhood friend who saved her life. Hope that eventually she might love him back. But even if she didn't. He'd still be here. Still protect her. Because that's what you did when you loved someone. You stayed. Even when it hurt. Even when it was hopeless. You stayed. Chapter 5 Lucia sat on the bed. Her phone in her hand. Staring at the screen. She shouldn't do this. She knew she shouldn't. But her fingers moved anyway. Opening Instagram. Typing in Ria's username. The profile loaded. Public. Of course. Photos filled the screen. Recent ones. From yesterday. Her breath caught. There. A video. Posted three hours ago. She clicked it. Laughter came first. Happy laughter. Then the image loaded. Marco. Margaret. And all three kids. Sitting around a table. Pizza boxes open. Everyone smiling. "Say hi to everyone!" Ria's voice. She was recording. "Hi!" Monica waved at the camera. Big smile. Lucas gave a thumbs up. Grinning. Margaret leaned into Marco. "We're having the best family night!" Family night. Lucia's hands shook. "Margaret makes the best homemade cookies," Monica said. "Way better than Mom's store bought ones." The words stabbed. "And she actually listens when we talk," Ria added. "Like really listens. Not just pretending while looking at her phone." Lucia never looked at her phone during conversations. Never. "Plus she's cool," Lucas said. "She gets us. You know?" Margaret laughed. Kissed Marco's cheek. "These kids are amazing. I'm so lucky." The video ended. Lucia stared at the black screen. Her reflection stared back. Pale. Hollow. She scrolled down. More photos. Margaret braiding Monica's hair. Margaret and Ria shopping. Matching bags. Lucas teaching Margaret how to play video games. All posted today. Captions about how wonderful Margaret was. Not one mention of Lucia. Her chest hurt. Like something inside was tearing. She kept scrolling. Couldn't stop. Another video. Margaret's account. "My new family!" Margaret's voice. Cheerful. Sweet. The camera panned. Marco cooking. The kids setting the table. "I've always wanted kids," Margaret said. "And now I have three perfect ones. Dreams really do come true!" Lucia's phone slipped from her fingers. Fell onto the bed. She couldn't breathe. They replaced her. Two days. Two days and they'd already replaced her. A sound came from her throat. Half sob. Half scream. She grabbed a pillow. Pressed it to her face. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was a bad mother. Maybe Margaret was better. No. No. But look at them. Look how happy they were. The tears came. Loud. Ugly. A knock on the door. Soft. She didn't answer. The door opened anyway. "Lucia?" Alex. She couldn't look at him. "Hey." His voice got closer. "What happened?" She shook her head. The bed dipped. He sat beside her. "Talk to me," he said. She lowered the pillow. Her face was wet. "I looked at their social media," she whispered. "The kids." Alex's jaw tightened. "What did you see?" "They're with Marco. And her. Margaret. They posted videos. They look. They look so." She couldn't say it. Alex picked up her phone. Looked at the screen. His face went hard. "This is cruel," he said. "Maybe it's true." The words came out broken. "Maybe I was a terrible mother. Maybe they're better off." "Stop." "Look at them, Alex. They don't miss me at all." "They're kids being manipulated." "They chose her." "They chose what's easier. That doesn't make you bad." Lucia pulled her knees to her chest. "I should call them. Maybe if I just. If I explain." "Explain what? They don't want to hear it." The bluntness hurt. But it was true. She grabbed her phone. Opened it. Stared at Monica's number. What would she even say? Please love me again? Please remember I'm your mother? Her finger hovered over the call button. "Don't," Alex said quietly. She put the phone down. Face down. Alex was quiet. Then he stood. Walked to the window. "I have an idea," he said. "But you'll probably think I'm insane." She looked up. "What?" He turned to face her. Hesitated. Like he was debating something. "Disappear," he finally said. "What?" "Leave. Go somewhere far. Reinvent yourself. Come back when you're ready." "I can't just leave." "Why not? What's keeping you here?" The question hung there. What was keeping her? Nothing. Nobody wanted her here. "Where would I even go?" she asked. Alex took a breath. "Germany. I have a villa there. Countryside. Quiet. You could stay as long as you need." Germany. Another country. "And do what?" "Learn. Transform." He walked back over. Sat on the bed again. "I can teach you about business. Finance. How money works. You could come back different. Stronger." "Why would I need to know about business?" Alex hesitated again. Like he was afraid to tell her. "Marco is hiding assets offshore," he finally said. Lucia stared at him. "What?" "I had Thomas dig deeper. Marco has accounts in the Cayman Islands. Properties under shell companies. He's been planning this." Her stomach turned. "How long?" "At least five years." Five years. "The affair. The quick wedding. It's all calculated." Alex's voice was steady. "He wants to marry Margaret fast. Lock everything down before you can do anything." "He's going to marry her?" "Already applied for the license. Wedding next month." Next month. Their divorce wasn't even final. "How do you know all this?" she asked. "Thomas is good at his job." "You've been investigating Marco?" "Yes." She should be angry. Should feel violated. But she just felt. Tired. "What else?" "Marco's company. I own shares. Thirty percent." Lucia looked at him. "Thirty?" "I'm the second largest shareholder. Marco doesn't know. The shares are under a holding company." "Why are you telling me this?" Alex looked down at his hands. "Because I can help you. If you want. I can give you leverage. Information. Everything you need to fight back." Fight back. She'd never fought back against anything. "I don't know how to fight," she said. "I'll teach you." "In Germany." "Yes." She stood up. Walked to the window. Looked out at the gardens. Six months in another country. Learning things she didn't understand. Coming back. For what? "What if I come back and nothing changes?" she asked. "What if I'm still nobody? What if they still don't want me?" "Then at least you'll be somebody who chose to fight." "But what if I don't want to fight? What if I just want my kids back?" The words cracked on the way out. Alex stood. Walked over. Stood beside her. "You can't make people love you," he said quietly. "Not even your kids. But you can make them respect you. You can make them regret what they did." "Is that enough?" "I don't know. But it's better than this." She looked at him. Really looked. He looked scared. Like he was afraid she'd say no. Like this mattered to him more than he was saying. "Why do you care so much?" she asked. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away. "Because you deserve better," he finally said. "You always did." The air between them felt charged. "If I do this," she said slowly. "If I go. What happens to me?" "What do you mean?" "I'll be alone. In a foreign country. Learning things I don't understand. What if I can't do it? What if I fail?" "You won't." "You don't know that." "No. But I believe it." She wanted to believe it too. But believing meant hoping. And hoping meant risking more pain. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I know." "What if they're right about me? What if I really am that terrible?" "You're not." "How do you know?" "Because I've known you for thirty-three years. And you've never been terrible. Not once." The words hit something in her chest. She looked back out the window. The sun was setting. Orange and pink. Tomorrow she could leave. Start over. Become someone new. Or she could stay. Keep crying. Keep checking their social media. Keep hurting. She thought about Monica's laugh in that video. Lucas's smile. Ria's happiness. They were fine without her. Better even. Something inside her shifted. Hardened. "Okay," she said. "Okay?" "Yeah. Germany. All of it." Alex's face changed. Relief. "You won't regret this." "I already regret everything else." He almost smiled. She looked down at her phone. Still on the bed. Still showing her kids with someone else. "I want them to see," she said. Voice quiet. "I want them to see me different. Strong. Someone they can't ignore." "They will." "And Marco. I want him to know he made a mistake." "He will." She didn't know if she believed him. But she wanted to. "When do we leave?" she asked. "Two days. I need to arrange some things first." Two days. "What about Lena?" "She's excited. Already packing." Of course she was. Lucia picked up her phone. Looked at it one last time. Then she deleted Instagram. Done watching. Done hurting. "Teach me everything," she said. Looking at Alex. "I want to know how to win." "I will." Outside, the sun disappeared. Darkness came. But for the first time in days, Lucia didn't feel afraid of it. She felt ready for it. Chapter 6 Sleep refused to come. Lucia paced her bedroom, bare feet silent on thick carpet. Each passing minute brought images she couldn't escape. Marco. Margaret. The kids. She paused at the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass. The gardens stretched out below, dark and quiet. Germany. A new identity. The chance to rebuild. Images from the past days swirled in her mind. Marco's cold face at the anniversary party. Margaret's victorious smile. The kids choosing her. Choosing to discard their own mother. She moved to the dresser where she had left her phone. Picked it up. Put it down. Picked it up again. One call. That's all it would take. One call to Monica. To beg. To plead. Please remember I'm your mother. But what would that accomplish? They'd made their choice. Clearly. Publicly. Cruelly. Lucia set the phone down, turning instead to face the mirror. The woman staring back looked hollow. Defeated. Used up. Is this who she was now? Who she'd always been? A woman so easily replaced? No. Not anymore. The truth hit her with sudden clarity. Marco hadn't just taken her marriage. He'd stolen her children. Poisoned them against her. Made them participants in her destruction. They needed to learn. All of them. That people couldn't be discarded without consequences. Morning found Lucia seated in the kitchen. She had dressed in the borrowed clothes, simple t-shirt and jeans. Her hair hung loose around her face. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Alex approaching. He carried two mugs, steam rising. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, offering her one of the mugs. "No." She accepted the coffee, grateful for its warmth. Alex sat across from her at the island. "Did you think about what we discussed?" Lucia took a deep breath. "I want to leave today." Alex looked at her. "Today?" "Yes. I can't stay here anymore. Every second in this city, I feel like I'm drowning." "We can leave today," Alex said. "I'll make the arrangements." Relief washed through her. "Thank you." "What about your belongings? From the house?" The thought of going back there made her stomach turn. "I don't want anything from that place." "You'll need clothes." "Then I'll get new ones. In Germany. I want a completely fresh start." Alex studied her face. "You're sure?" "I've never been more sure of anything." Lucia's voice was steady. "For seventeen years, I've been living half a life. Being what Marco wanted. What the kids needed. What everyone expected. I forgot how to be just Lucia." "And now?" "Now I want to remember." She set her mug down. "I want to discover who I am without them. And then I want them to see that woman when it's too late." Alex nodded slowly. "It won't be easy." "I don't want easy." Lucia stood, restless energy filling her. "I want to grow. I want to transform. I want..." "Justice," Alex supplied quietly. She met his gaze. "Yes. Is that wrong?" "No." He rose to stand before her. "It's human. They hurt you deliberately. Wanting them to feel consequences doesn't make you a bad person." "Monica laughed," Lucia whispered. "My baby. She laughed when I signed those papers." Alex's hands twitched at his sides. "Children can be cruel." "This wasn't childish thoughtlessness. This was calculated." Her voice hardened. "They participated in destroying me. And they need to learn I won't be destroyed so easily." A smile curved Alex's lips. "There she is. The Lucia I remember. The fighter." "Was I? A fighter?" Lucia searched his face. "Sometimes I can't remember who I was before Marco." "You were magnificent," Alex said simply. "Fierce. The girl who defended me against bullies. Who stood up for what was right." His words sparked something inside her. A memory of the girl she had been. The one with dreams. The one who didn't back down. "I want to be her again," Lucia said. "Not exactly the same. But I want to find that strength. That sense of self." Alex nodded. "Then that's what we'll do. We can leave this afternoon. The villa is ready." "What about my legal situation? The divorce?" "My attorneys can handle everything. Marco won't be able to rush through without proper proceedings." "And my things from the house?" "I could send someone to retrieve them. Marco wouldn't know." The offer tempted her. Her books. Her photos. Small treasures. But something stopped her. "No," she said finally. "Let them go. They're part of the old Lucia. She doesn't exist anymore." Alex studied her. "Some of those things have sentimental value." Lucia thought of the photo albums. The children's artwork. Family souvenirs. Each one a knife now. "The memories aren't in the objects. They're here." She touched her chest. "I'm taking them with me. Both the good and the bad." Alex nodded, respect in his gaze. "I'll tell Lena our plans." "Lena is coming?" "She insisted. She's quite taken with you." The words touched Lucia deeply. This girl who barely knew her cared more than her own children. Footsteps on the stairs. Lena appeared, face brightening when she spotted them. "You're both up early!" Alex turned to his daughter. "Lucia has decided to come with us. We're leaving this afternoon." Lena's eyes widened. "Really? That's amazing!" She rushed forward to hug Lucia. "You won't regret it." Lucia returned the embrace, surprised by how natural it felt. "I'm glad you're coming." "I wouldn't miss it." Lena stepped back. "What about Marco and the kids?" The direct question might have seemed insensitive from anyone else. "I don't know exactly," Lucia admitted. "I know I want consequences. I know I want them to realize what they threw away. But the exact form..." She shook her head. "I need time." Lena nodded. "The best plans aren't rushed. They're crafted carefully." Alex shot his daughter a look. "Lena." "What? I'm just being honest." Lena shrugged. "Lucia deserves justice." "It's alright," Lucia assured Alex. "She's right. I don't want blind revenge. I want them to face the natural consequences of their choices. To realize exactly what they lost." The conversation shifted to practicalities. What Lucia would need. How long they might stay. Managing the divorce remotely. Throughout the discussion, Lucia felt something shifting inside her. Each decision removed another weight from her shoulders. She was choosing her path now. Not following Marco's lead or the kids' needs. For the first time in years, Lucia was putting herself first. After breakfast, she returned to her room. Her few belongings fit into the small bag Alex had given her. The physical reminder of how little she had left was sobering. But also freeing. She was traveling light into her new life. Unburdened. As she zipped the bag, Lucia caught sight of her reflection. The woman gazing back seemed different already. Posture straighter. Eyes clearer. Jaw set with determination. Not yet the woman she would become. But no longer the woman Marco had discarded. This afternoon, she would board a plane to Germany. Would begin remaking herself far from their reach. Would learn about business, about power, about strength. And one day, when she was ready, when she had transformed, she would return. Would face Marco and the children not as the desperate woman they cast aside, but as someone they barely recognized. Someone they underestimated. Someone who survived and emerged stronger. They thought they knew Lucia Hart. Soon, they would meet Lucia Smith. And nothing would ever be the same.

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Chapter 1: OLIVE's POV I had three client presentations due tomorrow and a marketing strategy that was nowhere near finished, but all I could think about was Cole coming home in two weeks. It had been two months since I'd seen him in person. Two months of video calls and texts that came later and later each night. Grayson would tell me I was overthinking again. My stepfather had been the steady one since Mom remarried ten years ago—the kind of dad who actually showed up, who remembered what mattered. I pulled my laptop onto the bed, staring at the half-finished campaign for Hopkins Company. Pathetic. I shoved the laptop aside and reached for my nightstand drawer. The feeling of having my vibe pressed right where I needed it, imagining Cole in his blue practice jersey, hair slicked back, hands braced on the headboard above me… Close. So close. The door slammed open. My mother stood in the doorway like she hadn't just walked in on something she definitely shouldn't have seen. When I scrambled to sit up, tangled in my sheets and trying to shove the vibe under my pillow, she smiled. Actually smiled. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry I interrupted. But playtime's over." "God, Mom, knocking is a thing adults do." My face was on fire. I shoved the vibe into my nightstand drawer so fast I almost broke my finger. "Your door was wide open, Olive. Be grateful it was me and not Hunter." God, if my stepbrother had walked in on that I'd have to move to another state. "Mom, stop. Please just stop talking." She pressed her lips together, but amusement danced in her eyes. I wanted to die right there. Living in the renovated space above the garage was supposed to give me independence, but it didn't stop my mother from barging in whenever she felt like it. Still, it beat paying two grand a month for some shoebox apartment in Seattle. "We need to talk to you." Her voice changed, got serious. "Grayson and I have some exciting news." Exciting news in this family usually meant something that benefited everyone except me. "Olive Monroe, I want you downstairs in five minutes or I'm dragging you out of that bed myself." The second the door closed I grabbed my phone. I needed to hear Cole's voice, needed something good to balance out whatever disaster my parents were about to drop on me. I hit his contact. One ring. Two rings. Three. Cole always answered. Always picked up when I called. The screen flickered—video call accepted—and suddenly I was staring at a shaking camera propped up on something, angled weird. I could see him. Cole. Not alone. "Oh god, yes—Cole, right there—" A woman's voice hit me first, high-pitched and breathless. For a second my brain couldn't process what I was seeing. Cole on his back, head thrown against the pillow, mouth open as he groaned. A girl on top of him, blonde hair spilling down her back as she moved. "Fuck, you feel so good—" "Sophia—Christ, Sophia—" His name for her. The way he said it like it was something precious. The phone jolted with every thrust. I should've hung up. Should've thrown my phone across the room and pretended I'd never seen this, never heard this. I just sat there like an idiot. Frozen. Watching my boyfriend of two years moan another woman's name. "God, I'm close—Cole, I'm so close—" His hands gripped her hips and pulled her down harder. That deep groan I thought he only made with me— The phone slipped from my fingers. It clattered onto my bed face-up. I could still hear them—the wet sounds, her moans, his name in her mouth over and over. Two years. Two years of standing in freezing arenas watching him play. Two years of driving three hours just to see him for a weekend. Two years of wearing his jersey like any of it mattered. The entire time he'd been with someone else. Someone named Sophia. I grabbed the phone and stabbed at the screen until the call ended. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hit the right button. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry over him. But my throat was tight and my eyes were burning and I hated that I could still hear her voice in my head. I pressed my palms against my eyes hard enough that it hurt. He wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth a single tear, wasn't worth the two years I'd given him or any of it. But my face was already wet. ******* I didn't bother fixing my hair or washing my face before heading downstairs. What was the point. The main house smelled like coffee and whatever my mom had baked earlier that week. The second I opened the door both my parents' heads snapped toward me. "I was about to come drag you out of—" Mom stopped mid-sentence. "Olive, what's wrong?" I tried to say something, anything, but the second she asked, it was like a dam broke inside my chest. I sobbed, ugly and gasping. Grayson was already moving. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled me against his chest, one hand going to my hair and the other to my back, holding me while I fell apart. "Shh, hey, it's okay, you're okay." "I caught him cheating." My voice sounded wrecked. Silence. Complete silence. I watched Mom's mouth fall open. Watched Grayson's jaw get tight. "That Buffalo pretty boy with the perfect hair?" Mom's voice came out sharp now. Angry. "Diane," Grayson warned. "You deserve better than him, Olive. You always have." I wanted to believe him. Right now all I could think about was Cole's face, about the way he'd looked at me the last time and said I love you right before asking if I could pick up his dry cleaning. "We actually had something we wanted to tell you." Mom's voice softened. "Hunter got the call. He's officially playing for the Chicago Wolves." My stomach dropped. "He got called up?" The promise I'd made eight months ago, ‘when you make the NHL, I'll be front row at your first game’ crashed into the reality of Cole's face, Cole's team, Cole's city. Hunter had been there for me through everything. Every breakup, every bad day, every moment I needed someone who understood what it felt like to be the spare part in someone else's story. "The game is next week," Grayson added quietly. "I know the timing is complicated." "Cole is on that team." My voice cracked. "I can't—I can't see him right now." "Then don't look at him," Mom said sharply. "You made a promise to your brother." Guilt twisted in my chest because she was right. I had promised. Back when it seemed like a far-off dream, something sweet and hypothetical, we'd joked about over pizza and bad movies. Now it was real and the timing couldn't be worse. "We have tickets to his first game. Exclusive access—" "I don't know if I can do this." Grayson squeezed my shoulder. "Hunter would understand if you couldn't make it. But he really wants you there, sweetheart." Mom grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and dropped it into my lap. "That's your brother right there. Front page of Sports Illustrated." I looked down at Hunter's face staring back at me. The headline read NEW BLOOD: The Wolves' Secret Weapon. Pride swelled in my chest despite everything. He'd worked so hard for this. I flipped to the next page, trying to focus on anything other than the thought of seeing Cole again. What I saw made my entire body go still. An ad for some energy drink. But I barely registered what the product was. The man in the photo had his shirt half-unbuttoned. Abs so defined they didn't even look real. The energy drink tipped against his mouth, liquid spilling over his bottom lip, dripping down his jaw and his throat. His eyes were piercing. Cold blue. Staring directly at the camera like he could see through the page. Like he could see me. My thighs clenched. "Olive?" Grayson's voice snapped me back. I'd been staring at the photo for way too long. "Yeah, sorry, I just—" I cleared my throat. "Who's this guy?" Grayson's entire expression changed. Got dark and tight. He gripped his coffee mug hard enough I thought it might crack. "Zane Mercer." The way he said the name made it sound like it physically hurt him. "Who?" "My nemesis." His voice was completely flat. "Your nemesis? What are you, a supervillain?" "He's the NHL's top player," Mom said, her voice careful now. "And he's made Grayson's life hell since he started coaching. That man did things that forced him to leave the game entirely." I'd heard stories over the years. Vague references about someone who'd ruined everything, someone powerful and untouchable who'd destroyed his coaching career. But I'd never heard an actual name. Zane Mercer. Top player for the Chicago Wolves. And apparently the last person Grayson wanted me thinking about. I stared at the photo again. At those cold blue eyes, that dangerous jaw, the body that looked like it had been carved from stone. At least if I had to spend a week in Chicago watching my ex-boyfriend pretend I didn't exist, there'd be something worth looking at. I closed the magazine and stood up, tucking it under my arm before either of them could take it back. "Fine. I'll go to Chicago." Mom blinked at me. "Really?" "Really." I met Grayson's eyes. "I promised Hunter I'd be there for his first game. I'm not breaking that promise because Cole turned out to be a piece of shit." Grayson's expression softened. Relief mixed with something that looked like pride. "Besides," I added, trying to be casual even though my heart was racing, "maybe watching some hockey will help me move on." Chapter 2: OLIVE's POV Chapter 2: OLIVE's POV "I'm not going to the game. What the fuck was I thinking?" I slammed my forehead against my desk hard enough that my monitor shook. Making life decisions based on a magazine photo? That was a new low, even for me. Brenda didn't even look up from her computer. "You can't back out now. You already agreed." "I got so motivated to go because I saw some hot guy in a magazine. A magazine, Brenda. That's insane." "And?" She was still typing. "I find that perfectly reasonable. Not every day someone finds their rebound within seconds of a breakup." "I'm not trying to rebound—" "To what? Sit here and overthink until you convince yourself Cole cheating was your fault?" She stopped typing. Turned to look at me. "Because I can already see it happening. You're doing that thing where you spiral." She was right. "What if I wasn't there enough?" The words spilled out. "What if the long distance was too hard—" "Okay, stop. Stop right there." Brenda stood up and leaned against my desk. "I'm gonna say this once. Stop being a little bitch crying over mediocre dick." My mouth snapped closed. "I'm serious, Olive. Cole Maddox is mediocre at hockey, mediocre in bed—yes, you told me, wine drunk, don't deny it—and apparently mediocre at being faithful. You spent two years standing in the rain at his practices. You drove three hours to watch him warm benches. And this is how he repays you? Fuck him." "I know, but—" "But nothing. You're going to Chicago. You promised Hunter months ago you'd be there for his first NHL game. That promise had nothing to do with Cole and everything to do with your brother who's always had your back." She was right about that too. Hunter had been asking me to come to games since he signed with the farm team. Back then, the idea of him making the NHL seemed like a sweet fantasy. Now it was real, and I'd promised to be there. "Okay, I get it." But I was smiling now, just a little. "Good. Now stop spiraling and—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes locking on something behind me. "Oh shit." I turned to follow her gaze. The TV. And right there, filling the entire screen, was Cole's face. My stomach dropped. He looked good. Of course he looked good. Blonde hair perfectly styled, gray eyes that looked almost silver under the camera lights. But that wasn't what made my breath catch. Because tucked under his arm, pressed against his side like she belonged there, was a woman. Stunning. Blonde hair cascading in perfect waves, red dress that hugged every curve. She was laughing. Head thrown back, hand resting on Cole's chest, fingers spread like she owned him. And that hair—it looked exactly like the hair I'd seen spilling down her back on that video call. "Cole Maddox was spotted last night with his alleged new girlfriend, Sophia Mercer, aboard a private cruise ship," the reporter's voice filled the office. White text appeared beneath her face. Sophia Mercer, 23 Mercer. "She's related to him," I whispered. Brenda's fingers were already flying across her keyboard. "Let me check—oh. Oh fuck. Olive." She turned her monitor toward me. Zane Mercer - Top NHL player for the Chicago Wolves. One sister: Sophia Mercer, 23. And there was a photo. Action shot. Zane on the ice, helmet off, hair dark with sweat, jaw clenched. Eyes shining with fury. He looked dangerous. Powerful. And I'd seen this photo before. The realization hit me hard. "Olive?" Brenda's voice sounded far away. Six months after Cole and I started dating. I'd been looking for a pen in his practice bag when I found a photo tucked inside his notepad. Folded. Hidden. This photo. "Who's this?" I'd asked. Cole had snatched it from my hands. His face had gone red, jaw tight. "Don't touch that." His voice had been sharp. "Don't ever go through my stuff, Olive." He'd softened after. Kissed my forehead, said he was stressed. But he never explained the photo. And I'd forgotten about it. Until now. "I've seen him before," I whispered. "What?" "Zane. This photo. Cole had it. Hidden in his practice bag. A year and a half ago. I found it by accident and he freaked out. Got all weird and defensive." Brenda's eyes had gone wide. "So Cole's been obsessed with Zane for your entire relationship?" My stomach turned. "Do you think he's with Sophia to get close to Zane?" "Oh my god. That makes sense." Brenda was already pulling up Sophia's Instagram. "Look at this." Photo after photo. Sophia at games, in VIP boxes, surrounded by players. And in several of them, standing slightly out of focus in the background— Zane. "Cole saw that. Used her to get access." "I was never enough because I wasn't connected to the right people." "Hey." Brenda grabbed my face. "Don't you dare. Cole is a social-climbing piece of shit who uses people. You were too good for him." My phone buzzed on the desk. An email. From…Cole. I didn't want to open it. But I did anyway. 'I'm sorry, Olive. I never meant for things to end this way. But I've reached a new level in my career, and I need someone who can match that. Someone capable of helping me grow. You were great for where I was, but I need more now. I hope you understand.' The phone slipped from my fingers. Someone capable. He'd just told me I wasn't capable enough. After two years. After everything. Brenda snatched my phone, her face shifting from concern to pure fury. "After you caught him cheating—he sends you a breakup email? Calling you incapable?" I couldn't breathe. "Wait. There's more." She was scrolling on her own phone now. "I've been looking into him since yesterday. Found his tagged photos on Instagram, the ones he tried to untag. Olive. Look." A photo. Cole. With a woman. Red hair. Not Sophia. Someone else. Beach house, arms wrapped around each other, mouths locked. The timestamp said nine months ago. "Nine months," I whispered. "There's another one. Two months ago. Different girl. Fuck, Olive, there are at least five different women in the past year." I stared at the screen. At the proof. At the pattern. "You're going to that game." Her eyes were fierce. "You're going to walk in looking absolutely devastating. Head held high." "I don't want revenge—" "This isn't about revenge. This is about you remembering who the fuck you are." She squeezed my arm. "You're Olive Monroe. You're smart, you're beautiful, you don't take shit from anyone when you're not being manipulated by mediocre men." I looked at that email again. Someone capable. Fuck him. "I'm going," I said. Brenda grinned. "That's my girl." "I'm going to support Hunter. My stepbrother has been nothing but good to me, and I promised him I'd be there." My voice got stronger. "And I'm going to look so fucking good that if Cole sees me, he chokes on his own bullshit." I took a breath. For the first time since that video call, it didn't feel like my chest was caving in. It felt like anger. I paused, looking back at Zane's photo on Brenda's computer. Those cold blue eyes. That dangerous energy. The man whose sister Cole was using. The man my stepfather hated. The man who'd somehow become tangled up in all of this without even knowing I existed. "And Zane?" I asked quietly. Brenda raised an eyebrow. "I think Zane is exactly who you should be thinking about." Chapter 3: OLIVE's POV Chapter 3: OLIVE's POV When I said I had a plan, I was lying through my teeth. I was a twenty-four-year-old woman standing in a luxury hotel lobby wearing an oversized hoodie and leggings, hair thrown up in a messy bun that had given up on life somewhere over Iowa, with absolutely zero strategy beyond 'don't think about Cole and survive this week without having a breakdown in public.' That was it. That was the plan. Three days had passed since that office meltdown. Three days of packing and repacking those suitcases Brenda had filled with "revenge outfits" I'd probably never wear. And one text from Cole that I'd deleted without reading. The flight had been six hours of my mother chattering about Hunter's big break and Grayson making business calls and me pretending to sleep. Now we were here. Chicago. The hotel. And holy hell, this hotel. Marble floors stretched out forever under chandeliers. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Chicago skyline. And everywhere—literally everywhere—there were people. Beautiful people in expensive clothes. Cameras flashing. Reporters shouting questions. Hockey players. I could tell by the way they moved. That casual confidence. The way everyone parted for them like they were royalty. "What do you think, Olive?" My mother was practically vibrating with excitement. "Mom." I cut her off. "I'm here for Hunter. That's it." "Diane, let her breathe." Grayson squeezed my shoulder. "Come on, let's check in." I followed them toward the reception desk, trying to keep my head down. But when I looked up to see where we were going, my parents had disappeared. Vanished. "Are you kidding me right now?" They'd done this before. My mother got distracted and wandered off, and suddenly I was alone trying to figure out where the hell they went. I pulled out my phone, scrolling for her contact. "Oh thank god, I've been looking everywhere for you!" Two hands grabbed my arm before I could react. I yelped, stumbling as someone pulled me away from the reception area. "Wait—I think you have the wrong—" "No time! The team's waiting and we're already fifteen minutes behind schedule." The woman dragging me was mid-forties, sharp-eyed, moving fast. "Why were you just standing there? Come on—" "Ma'am, seriously, there's been a mistake—" She swiped a keycard at a massive door and shoved me inside before I could protest. I stumbled into the room and stopped dead. This wasn't a hotel room. This was a photo shoot. Lighting rigs towered everywhere. A backdrop that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. Cameras on tripods, equipment cases stacked against the wall. What the hell was this? "I know this is overwhelming. But this opportunity is huge. Your connection really pulled strings to get you here." My head snapped toward her. "My connection?" She smiled. "Your brother. Hunter Sinclair? He worked really hard to make this happen for you." My brain short-circuited. "Hunter did what?" "You're leading the ad shoot today. Mr. Mercer specifically requested the creative director be someone young, fresh perspective, and when Hunter mentioned you were coming to town—" "Wait, Mr. Mercer? As in—" A door on the far side of the room opened. Every thought in my head evaporated. A man stepped out. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Shirtless. My eyes went straight to his chest—eight perfect ridges of muscle, tanned skin that looked like it had been dipped in gold under the studio lights. This couldn't be real. My gaze traveled up. Sharp jawline. Dark hair, messy like he'd just run his hands through it. And then his eyes. Blue. Piercing. Cold. Locked directly on mine. Zane Mercer. Standing there in low-slung black pants, shirtless, looking like he'd walked straight out of that magazine photo except somehow better because he was real and he was right there. I was going to die in a luxury hotel room staring at abs that didn't look human. "Mr. Mercer, I'm so sorry for the delay." The woman stepped forward. "This is Olive Monroe, the creative director we discussed." "It's no issue, Sheila." His voice was deep. Smooth. "I'm ready whenever she is." His eyes never left mine. And I hated the way something flipped in my stomach. The way heat crawled up my neck. The way my thighs clenched together without permission. "Wonderful! Miss Monroe, you can take it from here. I'll be right outside if you need anything." I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Zane's lips twitched. Like he knew exactly what he was doing standing there half-naked making me forget how to form sentences. "You can leave, Sheila. I only need to be alone with my creative director." Sheila shot me a look—concern mixed with envy—before slipping out. The lock clicked. Just the two of us. Silence stretched. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, arms crossed loosely, waiting. I forced myself to breathe. To find my voice. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but I'm not a creative director." The words came out sharper than I meant them to. "That woman grabbed me in the lobby and dragged me here thinking I was someone else. So whatever this is, you've got the wrong person and I'm just—I'm going to go." He tilted his head, studying me. The way he looked at me—like he was peeling back layers, seeing things I didn't want seen—made my skin feel too tight. "Is that so?" His voice was low. Almost amused. "Yes. So if you'll excuse me—" I turned toward the door. "Do you really think this was a mistake, Olive?" My name in his mouth stopped me cold. I turned back slowly. "How do you know my name?" He pushed off whatever he'd been leaning against and took a step toward me. Just one. But the room shrank. "I know you're not a creative director. I know exactly who you are." Something squeezed tight in my chest. "Then why—" "And I know exactly why you're here." The air crackled between us. I wanted to move. To walk out. To put distance between us. But I couldn't. Because the way he was looking at me—like I was a puzzle he'd already solved—made it very clear. This wasn't an accident. "What do you mean?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'm here to support my stepbrother. That's it." His lips curved. Barely. "Is that what you told yourself?" "It's the truth." "Then why did you agree to come after seeing my photo in that magazine?" My breath caught. How did he— "Your stepfather hates me. Has for years. Your mother knows the history. And yet you agreed to come to Chicago, to a game where you knew I'd be playing, right after a scandal." Another step. Closer. "So tell me, Olive. Why are you really here?" I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the pounding in my ears. "I don't know what you're talking about?" He chuckled, “Don't you know?" He was close enough now that I could see a faint scar above his eyebrow. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. "Let me make this simple for you." He stopped right in front of me. Heat radiated off him. That expensive, clean scent that made my head swim. "I have a proposition. One that benefits us both. But first, I need to know something." "What?" His eyes locked on mine. "What are you willing to give me?" Chapter 4: OLIVE's POV Chapter 4: OLIVE's POV "What I'm willing to give you?" I stared at him like he'd just spoken a language I didn't understand. Because what kind of question was that? My eyebrows pulled together so tight my forehead hurt. "What does that even mean? I don't—I don't know you. And you're standing here asking me what I'm willing to give you?" I laughed. It came out bitter. Sarcastic. A little unhinged. But my cheeks were burning. Absolutely on fire. Because of how close he was standing, because I could see every detail of his chest…those abs, those arms, that scar above his eyebrow that made him look dangerous instead of perfect…and my body was betraying me in ways I didn't want to think about. When I forced myself to meet his eyes again, something in his expression made everything flip. "Cole Maddox." My blood turned to ice. Every muscle in my body went rigid. "What did you just say?" "Cole Maddox." Calm. Like he was commenting on the weather. "I know about him. About your relationship. That he's been cheating on you with my sister. That he used you for two years and then dumped you like you were nothing." The room tilted. How the hell did he know about Cole? About any of it? Was this some kind of sick game? Did Cole send him here? Was my stepbrother in on this? "And what are you? The cleanup crew? Here to…what, wipe off the stain Cole left behind? Make sure the poor pathetic ex-girlfriend doesn't embarrass herself?" His eyebrow raised. Amused. Like this was entertaining to him. "Did Cole send you?" I stepped forward now, couldn't help it, anger overriding self-preservation. "To make sure I stay away from his games? Is Hunter in on this too? Is this some sick joke where everyone gets to laugh at the girl who was stupid enough to believe her boyfriend loved her?" It wasn't a question. It was an accusation. And the way Zane's lips curved—like he was enjoying this, my confusion, my anger, the way I was falling apart right in front of him—made me want to slap him. Or kiss him. I wasn't sure which impulse was stronger and that scared me more than anything. "Cole Maddox is irrelevant to what's happening between us right now." His voice dropped lower. "But I do have a proposal." I blinked. "A proposal." "Yes." "From a complete stranger who somehow knows everything about my failed relationship and had me dragged into a room under false pretenses." His lips twitched. "When you say it like that, it sounds bad." "Because it is bad." "Hear me out." "Why should I?" But I didn't move. Didn't walk away. Because as much as I wanted to, as much as every logical part of my brain was screaming at me to run, I couldn't. I needed to know what he wanted. Why he knew about Cole. What the hell was happening. He took another step closer. My breath hitched. I wanted to step back. Wanted to put space between us. But my spine hit the wall behind me and I realized with a jolt that I'd been backing up this entire time without even noticing. Damn it. "Date me." The words hung in the air between us. I blinked. Once. Twice. "What?" "Be my partner. Publicly. We attend events together. Build your profile. Make Cole Maddox regret every single decision he's ever made in his pathetic life." My brain stuttered. Stopped. Tried to restart and failed. "You want me to..." I couldn't even finish the sentence. "Date you." "Yes." "Fake date you." "Does it matter if it's fake?" He tilted his head, and the movement made me notice how close he was. Too close. Not close enough. "The result is the same. Cole suffers. You move on looking like you upgraded. Everyone wins." I stared at him. He was serious. This man—this stranger who looked like he'd walked straight out of my most inappropriate fantasies—was standing here asking me to fake date him to make my ex jealous. Like this was normal. Like people did this every day. "Why?" My voice cracked. "Why would you want this? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything. So why the hell would you offer to—to—" "Because it benefits me too." That stopped me. The pieces trying to pull together in my confused, overwhelmed brain. "How?" His expression shifted. Something darker sliding across his face, something that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "Let's just say Cole Maddox and I have unfinished business. And having you by my side speeds up certain plans I have in motion." "Plans." I repeated the word like it might make sense if I said it out loud. "What kind of plans?" "The kind I'm not going to explain." "Of course not." I laughed, sharp and humorless. "So you want me to agree to fake date you—a complete stranger—for reasons you won't explain, to get revenge on an ex I'm trying to forget, while you use me for some mysterious plan involving Cole that you won't tell me about." "When you say it like that—" "It sounds insane. Because it is insane." He stepped closer again. And this time when I tried to step back, there was nowhere to go. The wall was right there. He was right there. Caging me in without actually touching me, and somehow that made it worse because I could feel the heat radiating off him. "Think about it, Olive." His voice was barely above a whisper now. Intimate. Like we were the only two people in the world. "You walk into every event on my arm. Photographers everywhere. Social media going crazy. And Cole sees all of it. Sees you moved on. Sees you with someone better. Someone he's been obsessing over for…what did I hear? For five years now." Something pounded in my chest. My eyes widening slightly at the revelation. "You know about his obsession with you?" "I know everything about Cole Maddox." His eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't look away even though I wanted to. "Including what he did to you." "Then you know I'm trying to move on. To forget him. Not play games." "This isn't a game." He leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough that I could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. "This is power, Olive. You take control of the narrative. You show him and everyone else that you're not some girl he can discard. You're someone he never deserved in the first place." God, he was good. His words wrapped around me like a trap. Like he knew exactly what to say to make this sound appealing, to make me want to say yes even though every rational part of my brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea. And the worst part? It was working. I could picture it. Walking into that arena on Zane Mercer's arm. Flash bulbs going off. Cole's face when he saw me. The shock. The jealousy. The regret. It would feel so good. But— "What do you really get out of this?" I asked, forcing myself to focus past the heat and the proximity and the way his eyes were making me forget how to think. "Because I don't buy the 'unfinished business' excuse. There's something else. So what is it? What do you actually want from me?" His jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Thought he'd deflect or change the subject or do whatever powerful men did when they didn't want to give up control. Then he smiled. Slow. Dangerous. The kind of smile that made me think of wolves and prey and things that looked beautiful until they bit. Chapter 5: OLIVE's POV Chapter 5: OLIVE's POV "Maybe I just like the idea of watching Cole Maddox squirm." "That's not a real answer." "It's the only one you're getting." "Then I'm not interested." "Are you sure about that?" His hand came up—slowly, like he was giving me time to move, to protest, to tell him to stop—and his fingers brushed my jaw. And I stopped breathing. The touch was light. Barely there. But it sent electricity racing down my spine, pooling low in my stomach in a way that made me want to clench my thighs together. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't look uninterested." His thumb traced the line of my jaw with excruciating slowness. "I—" The words died in my throat. "Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing's shallow. And if I had to guess..." His thumb moved to my pulse point, pressing gently. "Your heart's racing." Damn him for being right. Damn my body for betraying me. Damn everything about this moment. "That doesn't mean anything." But my voice came out breathy and weak. "Doesn't it?" His thumb traced my bottom lip now, and I had to bite back a sound that would've been absolutely mortifying. "We could be good together, Olive. Professionally speaking. Put on a show that makes everyone believe it. Make Cole regret everything." "And what happens when it's over?" The words came out barely above a whisper. "When we're done playing pretend and you've gotten whatever it is you really want?" "Then we end it. Amicably. You get your revenge. I get what I need. Everyone wins." "Except Cole." "Especially Cole." His thumb pressed against my lip again, just slightly, and my lips parted on instinct. His eyes darkened. The air between us changed. Thickened. Heat crawling up my neck and pooling in places I was trying very hard not to think about. "How long?" I asked, because I needed to say something before I did something stupid like close the distance between us. "How long what?" "This fake relationship. If I agreed—which I'm not saying I am—how long would it last?" He considered, and I hated that I was watching his mouth while he thought. "Two months. Long enough to make an impact. Then we part ways. Clean break." "Two months of lying to everyone." "Two months of taking back control." His hand moved to cup my face fully now, and I should've pulled away but I didn't. "Think about it. Two months where you decide how this story goes. Not Cole. Not your family. You." God, why did he have to make it sound so tempting? "What would we have to do?" My voice was barely audible now. "During these two months?" "Public appearances. Games. Dinners. Charity events." He paused, and something heated flashed in his eyes. "Whatever couples do." "Fake couples." "Does it really matter?" His thumb traced my cheekbone now, and I was losing the battle with myself not to lean into it. "If it looks real, if it feels real, if everyone believes it's real—what's the difference?" "The difference is that it's not real." "Is that what you want? Reality?" He leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath on my lips. "Because reality is Cole cheating on you for maybe your entire relationship. Reality is him calling you incapable. Reality is you standing in the rain at his practices while he was with other women. Is that the reality you want to go back to?" Each word hit like a slap. Because he was right. Reality had been nothing but pain and lies and standing in the rain hoping someone would notice me. "We'd have to sell it. Make people believe it's real. That means touching. Holding hands." His thumb traced my jaw again. "Kissing." My knees went weak. "Kissing." "If the situation calls for it." His eyes were locked on my mouth now. "Can't have people thinking we're just friends." "This is insane." "Maybe." His hand slid into my hair, fingers tangling gently, and I forgot how to breathe. "But you haven't said no." Because I couldn't. God help me, I couldn't say no. I wanted this. Wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to show Cole that I could move on, that I was worth more than he'd ever appreciated. Wanted to be seen as something other than the girl who got cheated on. Even if it was fake. Even if it was a lie. Even if it would probably blow up in my face. His thumb pressed against my bottom lip again, and this time I couldn't stop the small sound that escaped. Something flashed in his eyes. "So what do you say, Olive?" His voice was rough now. Strained. "Are you going to let Cole Maddox win? Or are you going to show him exactly what he threw away?" I stared into those blue eyes. Felt his heat. His presence. The way he was looking at me like I was the only person who mattered in this moment. For one wild, reckless second, I almost said yes. Almost let myself fall into this trap of his making. But then reality crashed back in. This man knew everything about me. Had orchestrated this meeting. Was offering me something that sounded too good to be true. Because it was too good to be true. Men didn't do things out of kindness. Cole had taught me that lesson thoroughly. They wanted something. Always. There was always an angle. And I wasn't going to be used again. Not by Cole. And definitely not by Zane Mercer. I ducked under his arm, putting space between us so fast I almost tripped over my own feet. My chest was heaving. My body was screaming at me to go back, to let him touch me again, to say yes to whatever he was offering. But I didn't. "No." He turned slowly. Eyes locked on mine. Expression unreadable. "No?" "I'm not interested." My voice shook but I forced the words out anyway. "I don't need your help. I don't need revenge. And I definitely don't need some stranger playing savior because he has his own agenda he won't even explain." "Olive—" "Find someone else to play chess with." I grabbed the door handle, yanking it open. "I'm done being a piece on someone else's board." Sheila was right there when I stepped out, eyes wide with surprise. "Oh! Are you—did you finish already?" "I quit." And I walked out. Didn't look back. Couldn't look back. Because if I did, I'd see those blue eyes and that body and that dangerous smile. And I'd change my mind. Something pounded in my chest. My hands were shaking. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I made it to the elevator before I had to lean against the wall. "Hell," I whispered to the empty hallway. Because I'd just turned down Zane Mercer. The hottest man I'd ever seen in my life. Who'd offered me exactly what some dark, vengeful part of me wanted. And I'd walked away. The elevator dinged. I stepped inside, jabbing the button for the lobby. My phone buzzed. An unknown number. I stared at it for three long seconds before opening the message. 'Three days, Olive. That's how long my offer stands. After that, you're on your own. – Z' I read it twice. Then blocked the number. Shoved my phone back in my pocket. And tried to ignore the ache between my thighs that told me I'd just made either the smartest or stupidest decision of my life. Time would tell which one. Chapter 6: Olive’s POV Chapter 6: Olive’s POV His hands were on my hips. Firm. Possessive. Fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks. I was pressed against something cold. A wall, maybe. Glass. I couldn't tell. I Didn't care. Because his mouth was on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear, and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. "You should've said yes," he murmured against my skin. His voice. God, his voice. Deep and rough and doing things to me that should be illegal. "I don't—" I tried to speak, but his hand slid up my thigh, pushing my dress higher, and the words died in my throat. "You don't what?" His lips curved against my neck. I could feel him smiling. "You don't want this?" His fingers brushed the edge of my underwear, feeling my wetness, the softness of my heat. I gasped. My voice caught hard in my throat, unable to speak. "That's what I thought." He pulled back just enough to look at me. Those blue eyes dark. Hungry. "Tell me you want this, Olive." "I—" His thumb pressed exactly where I needed it. Deep. Hard. Circling. My head fell back. A moan ripped from my throat. "Say it." "I want—" He pressed harder. Circled again against my clit. "Please—" "Good girl." And then his mouth was on mine. Hot. Demanding and consuming me completely. I was so close. Right there. Right on the edge— ****** I woke up gasping, breath coming out hollow like I'd just run a marathon. Sweaty. Tangled in sheets. Heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. And wet. So fucking wet it was embarrassing. "No. No, no, no." I pressed my palms against my face. Groaned into the darkness of my suite. A dream. It was just a dream. A very vivid. Very detailed. Very real-feeling dream. About Zane Mercer. The man I'd rejected three days ago. "Fuck." I threw the covers off. Sat up. My tank top was drenched with sweat, clinging to my skin. My thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to ease the ache that wouldn't go away. This was bad. So bad. I'd been locked in this suite for three days. Three days of hiding. Avoiding everyone. Avoiding Hunter. Avoiding the possibility of running into Cole. Avoiding any chance of seeing Zane. And apparently, my subconscious decided avoidance wasn't working. Because now I was having wet dreams about him. About his hands. His mouth. His voice saying things that made my entire body light up. "Good girl." I shivered. Stop. Stop thinking about it. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up. 7:14 AM And beneath the time, notifications I'd been ignoring for days. - Texts from Brenda asking if I was okay. - A missed call from my mother. - And one message that made my stomach twist. The blocked number. The one I'd blocked three days ago. But I could still see the preview from before I blocked it. Three days, Olive. That's how long my offer stands. Three days. Today was day three. His offer expired today. Maybe by noon. I stared at the message. At those words that had been playing on loop in my head for more than sixty hours straight. ‘Date me. Be my partner. Make Cole regret everything.’ Part of me—a stupid, reckless part—wanted to unblock the number. Wanted to call him. Wanted to say I'd changed my mind. But I didn't. Because I'd made my choice. I wasn't going to be used. Not by Cole. Not by Zane. Not by anyone. Even if my body was currently screaming at me that I'd made the wrong decision. I stood up. My legs were shaky, and I headed for the bathroom. A cold shower. That's what I needed. A very cold shower to wash away the dream and the ache and the lingering feeling of his hands on my skin. By the time I got out, it was past seven-thirty. The suite was quiet. My parents were probably still asleep. Thank God. The last thing I needed was my mother's morning cheerfulness or Grayson walking around in his boxers with his— I stopped that thought immediately. One thing I'd learned living above my parents' garage: Grayson was ‘very comfortable’ in his own home. And my mother was very loud about why she'd married him. Some things you couldn't unhear. I pulled on an oversized hoodie and leggings. Threw my hair up in a ponytail. No makeup. No effort. I just needed air. Coffee. Something to clear my head before tomorrow's game. Tomorrow. Hunter's first big game with the Chicago Wolves. The whole reason I was even in this godforsaken city. "Fuck, I can't wait to get back to work and forget my life just shifted off its axis," I muttered to myself. I grabbed my phone and key card. Slipped out of my room as quietly as possible. The hallway was empty. Good. I made it three steps toward the elevator before I heard it. "Sneaking out?" I froze. Turned slowly. Hunter stood in the doorway of the main suite, arms crossed, with that cocky smirk on his face that made me want to punch him. "Jesus Christ, Hunter. You scared the shit out of me." "Is that how you greet your stepbrother after avoiding him for three days?" I glared. "I wasn't avoiding you." "Right. You just happened to be locked in your room the entire time we've been here." "I needed space." "From what? Me?" He stepped into the hallway. "Or from someone else?" My stomach tightened. "From someone else? You tell me, Hunter. Who do you think I'm hiding from?" "I don't know what you're talking about." He was too close now. Close enough that I could see something in his expression. Guilt? Concern? I huffed hard. Of course, he'd deny it. Act like he was never part of Zane's master plan. "You sold me out. Why?" I could see recognition cross his face. His expression shifted. "I'm sorry, Olive. I had no choice." He muttered it quietly. Concern. Guilt. All those expressions I didn't want to see. "You fucking sold me out, and do what? You just apologize? Do you know the mess you caused?" My voice was rising. Almost a yell. And fuck it, I didn't care if anyone was listening. "I said I was sorry, Olive. I really am. Did he—did he hurt you?" I glared at him. The audacity to ask how I was feeling after ruining my life. Or maybe he was part of the ruin. Involved somehow. But I just stared hard at him. The only thing I could say was: "Move, Hunter." "Olive—" "I said move." I shoved past him. "I need coffee before I lose my mind or throw you off the balcony." "Hey." He grabbed my arm. Gently. "I'm sorry. Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?" I yanked free. "I'm fine." "You don't look fine." "Well, I am. So back off." My voice shook. "And don't you dare play games with me ever again. I don't know what your deal with Zane is, but don't you dare involve me again." He held up his hands. "Alright. Alright. Just... be careful, okay?" "Careful of what?" His jaw tightened. "Just... don't do anything stupid." I stared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. Forget it." "Hunter—" "Go get your coffee, Olive." He stepped back into the suite. "And for the record? Cole doesn't know you're here. I didn't tell him. So you can stop looking over your shoulder like he's going to jump out of a corner." The door closed before I could respond. I stood there for a moment. Fists clenched. What the hell was that about? ‘Don't do anything stupid?’ ‘Cole doesn't know you're here?’ Why would Hunter— My phone suddenly buzzed, and I pulled it out. It was a text from Brenda. BRENDA: ‘You alive? Or do I need to file a missing person report?’ I typed back quickly. ME: ‘Alive. Barely. Going to get coffee.’ BRENDA: ‘At 7:30 AM? Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?’ ME: ‘Couldn't sleep.’ BRENDA: ‘Bet I know why. Starts with Z. Ends with …ane Mercer.’ I almost threw my phone. ME: ‘I'm blocking you too.’ BRENDA: ‘You love me. Now go get your coffee and stop spiraling. Today's a new day. Fresh start and all that bullshit.’ ME: ‘Motivational speeches aren't your thing.’ BRENDA: ‘I know. I'm trying something new. How's it working?’ ME: ‘Terribly.’ BRENDA: ‘Good. That's more on brand. Love you. Text me later.’ I shoved my phone in my pocket and headed for the elevator. Fresh start. Right. Today was day three. Zane's offer expired at noon. Not that I cared. Not that I was counting.

Demetra. I am Demetra, the girl whose mother slept with every gamma, beta, and zeta…trying to climb her way up, only to crash-land at the very bottom and leave me here to clean up her mess in the Black Covenant Pack. As the lowest-ranking omega in the pack house, my glorious destiny is to personally serve one of three sons of Alpha Kael. Emris. Emris. Emris. Emris. My world is the four walls of his penthouse bedroom. I’m the ghost who takes his designer clothes to the laundry. I scrub his desk. I pick up the condoms after he’s done with whatever girl he drags home from the club. I’m the one who patches up the cuts and bruises from fights he doesn’t want his parents to know about, dabbing at his knuckles while he stares straight through me. I even cut his hair when it gets too long cause he hates when it brushes his shoulders. And when his famous temper explodes, shattering a lamp or hurling it against the wall, I’m the one on my knees, picking up the pieces. Always on my knees. Because Emris runs on a fuel of rage. However, the day I turned eighteen, a mate bond snapped between us during one of my cleaning routines. Me, a nobody, became mated to the first son of the Alpha. The one everyone whispers will inherit everything, because while all two of brothers are hybrids, Emris is the strongest…he is a Trybrid werewolf. Emris, who has never looked at me twice, suddenly couldn’t stand for me to be out of his sight. Yet, despite his new possessiveness. He warned me never to tell a soul that we were mates. Afterall, I’m an orphaned omega, a high-school dropout because the pack’s "charity" didn't cover an actual education. My father isn’t some politician or business mogul; he’s probably one of the countless faceless men my mother entertained. I am the pack’s pity project, the girl they “saved,” and my lifelong repayment has been to scrub their floors and make their beds. He was ashamed of me. The first time Emris ever truly looked at me was the day the mate bond snapped into place. I remember how his uncovered eye, stared down at me while the other was hidden under the usual black patch. The next time I saw him without that black patch, it revealed his serpent-lined colored eyes as he took my virginity in his bed. And I love him. Goddess, I love him with my entire soul, a stupid, desperate love that lives in the deepest, most secret part of my heart. I loved him when he made me his dirty secret. I loved him through his coldness and the countless ways he shattered my heart, only to gather the pieces and hand them back to him all over again. I am the one who watches him sleep. I am the one rocked him back to reality when he woke up from the nightmares of the two years he spent as a kid, locked in an enemy’s pack dungeon. He was broken, far from perfect, but he was everything to me. “Where you going?” His rough voice makes me stop buttoning my stupid house help uniform. I see my reflection in his floor-length mirror, my doll like white hair is all ruffled from where he fisted his hands in it, arching me against me just minutes ago. “It’s almost time for breakfast.” I look around his bedroom for my bra. “Shit.” Emris runs a hand down his face. I see the forgotten cup of water on his nightstand. The one I brought him last night before he pulled me into his bed and made me forget my own name. “This what you’re looking for?” I see my light blue bra dangling from his finger. I march over and reach for it, but he lifts his hand higher. “I’m already late. Give it.” I hold my palm out and try to sound firm. He pushes his dark hair back and sits up. The sheets pools around his naked waist. I can’t help the quick swallow in my throat as I take in the hard planes of his ab muscles or his calloused hands that held my waist so tightly I couldn’t escape a thrust. “Did I say you could leave yet?” Emris’ voice is deceptively soft. “Keep it, then.” I frown and walk out. I can’t do this with him today. I hear his low chuckle behind me. “I don’t like your saltiness. Or is it moodiness? I don’t like your jealousy, either. I have so much to do today, the last thing I want is that attitude from you.” I do my best not to turn around and look at him. He knows exactly why I’m upset. The whole pack knows. The Alpha of the Mud Claw Pack’s daughter, Elena. Emris’s ex-girlfriend has just moved into the pack house. Luna Derisha is already parading her around, calling her his future Luna. And I’m here. His actual, true mate. His dirty little secret. “Demetra?” His tone shifts. It’s becoming a warning. “Don’t let me have to call you a second time!” When I turn, he’s out of bed in a loose pair of pants, walking towards the balcony where I’m standing at. “You know why I’m upset.” Emris rips off his black eye patch and tosses it aside. He usually covers that eye because his wolf gets agitated, and when it does, he can’t control the change. His left eye burns with a ring of gold, the pupil a terrifying thin slit. It scares people. But then, everything about Emris is designed to be scary. I’m just the idiot who’s in love with him, so I see past it. “You’re acting like I slept with Elena this morning!” “Wow.” I let out a scoff that’s designed to hide the hot press of tears in my throat. “So, you want to sleep with her? You can’t wait to have your ex-girlfriend back in your bed?” “Stop it. Her father is an Alpha. My mom is just securing my claim to the Alpha seat. It’s not personal—” “We are mates!” I yell and I’ve never yelled at him before. “You’re an omega.” Emris says it like it’s a disease. “That’s weak for a Trybrid like me. That’s a liability for the Alpha I’m becoming!” “You sleep with me! You claim me almost every night! But now, suddenly, I’m too weak for you because the Alpha seat is up for grabs?” In a second, he’s right in front of me. I watch the pupil in his left eye, “the serpent-like one” dilates. “Don’t you ever disrespect me. I paid for your high school. I offered to pay for college, but you were too proud to take it. I bought you a car you never drove! I give you a roof, my protection, and this is how you thank me?” Emris pulls me and I land against his bare chest, face inches from his. There, I force myself to go still so I won’t anger the beast further. I didn’t accept his gifts because I was sick of feeling like his charity case, a bill he had to pay for the mate he never wanted. “Once I'm Alpha, my pups will be in your belly. You'll... be under my protection for life." He roughs a brand across my waist before palming my back side. There comes the famous grab as he does a little tap-tap-tap taps with ownership. Usually, it would make me blush but this time, I just look at him with tears. However, Emris doesn’t see tears. He’s cold-blooded, and the worst part is, he’s proud of it. “As what?” I look up at him from what feels like a million miles below. The one thing I want is for him to claim me as his mate. To look at me and see his equal, his other half, not a constant reminder of how we’re opposites. Emris just stares back. Of course, he’s going to pretend he doesn’t understand what I’m asking. He’s an expert at that. “Change that jealous look on your face before I see you again.” I push his hand away from my waist and instantly feel cold. I walk out of his bedroom. The moment I step into the moving area of the pack house, I nearly collide with the head chef, whose face is twisted into a scowl that could curdle milk. “Where have you been?!” “I, uh… I woke up late.” I quickly answer. My job is only to maintain Emris’s private penthouse, so I have no idea why she’s so furious with me. “We’re short-staffed. Go help Miss Elena take her bags to her room.” Susan points and my stomach plummets. There she is. Elena Orient. Emris’ ex-girlfriend. 2 Demetra. Elena was a part-time cheerleading trainer at Magnus High for a year. It’s the high school I was able to attend because of Emris’s “charity.” She’s at least four years older than me, and she was that impossibly cool adult all the younger girls, including me, desperately wanted to be. The boys were all secretly in love with her. She had perfect, bouncy blonde waves. Back when I was a gawky, puberty-stricken freshman, I’d daydream about looking like her one day. So yeah, I’m jealous. Elena Orient comes from a rich family, a powerful pack, and everyone adores her. She’s everything I’m not. I remember the first time she saw Emris. It was Guardians’ Day. I didn't have anyone to come for me, but he showed up. He was there for his sister, Teddy but I’ll never forget the way everyone stared as he walked straight up to me in the crowded hallway. The next day, Elena actually sought me out to ask me who he was. It was the first time our cheer instructor had ever spoken directly to me. I gave her his name, never imagining that simple answer would lead to them dating. Back then, I didn't care. I wasn't eighteen; the mate bond was silent, and Emris's life was his own. Now, everything is different. "Morning.” I say. Elena finally looks up from her phone. Even at 7 a.m., her blonde hair is bouncy and shiny. Makeup. She’s dressed in designer clothes plus perfumes. She’s obviously hoping to run into Emris, but he’s probably in the middle of his brutal gym session, followed by a wild run through the woods. He won't be back for at least an hour. "OMG! Demetra, right?" "Yeah. I should take your bags up—" I reach for one of the bold pink suitcases, but when I try to lift it, it doesn't even budge. "Did Emris send you to help me?" What does she think I am, his personal messenger? "Does he know I'm here already?" "No, Miss Elena." I reposition myself to wrestle with the luggage again. "Where is he? Still sleeping? Is he awake?" I give the stubborn bag a hard yank. "Can you give me an answer!?" There comes her irritation. I’d almost forgotten that behind that smile, she wears a lot of masks and her true personality is just plain evil. "I'm not sure, Miss Elena—" "Then, what use are you?" I pull the bag with all my might, and this time, it sends me backward. I lose my balance and crash to the floor just as Luna Derisha walks in with another guest. Oh no. “Elena, why are your luggage not taken yet!?” Luna Derisha’s asks. I get up quickly. “This weak omega—” Luna Derisha’s eyes narrow on me but she forces a smile for the guest. Elena’s mother, who’s watching the entire scene. “I’m sorry, Luna.” I step back. I know better than to be within arm’s reach when she’s like this; her slaps are swift. “Wow, her hair is so beautiful. She is such a beautiful young woman.” I see the muscle in Luna Derisha’s jaw twitch as the woman complements me. She hates any reminder of my mother, and my looks are the biggest reminder of all. Thankfully, Luna Derisha’s drivers come in and effortlessly haul the luggage away. “Luna, the tables are ready.” the head housekeeper announces. The moment they’re out of earshot, Luna Derisha turns on me. “I don’t even know your use in this house. All you do is fatten yourself on our food, yet your strength stays the same.” I stare at the ground. It’s better not to look at her. “Because of us, the sickly thing your mother gave birth to is growing. Your cream-white hair is getting longer. Your uniform is getting tighter on your body. Your hips are fattening like a whore’s, your…” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s those same things your mother used to attract the lowest of the lows. Tell me, are you heading down the same path?” “No, Luna.” I answer quickly. “Get out of my sight! And did I not ask you to dye that hair black?” Someone calls Luna Derisha so her attention finally goes away from me. The moment she looks away. I feel a violent surge in my throat and I throw my hand against it. I don’t know if it’s the humiliation, the stress of the morning, or something else entirely, but I don’t wait to find out. I turn and run across the marble floors until I burst into the empty staff bathroom. I barely make it to the stall before my insides seem to rupture. I vomit and vomit and vomit until my stomach is empty. Tears are streaming down my face as I stare at myself in the mirror. Why am I vomiting? Is it the oats I ate last night? And then my brain decides to gives me an answer. Hey, remember that little monthly thing that ghosted you last month? Oh no. Oh, Moon Goddess… am I pregnant? Pregnant with Emris’ child? ___________ I change out of my uniform, into a pair of jeans and a top. I need a pregnancy test. Now. I've been sitting in front of the desk for the past three hours, trying to count days on a calendar, but it's useless. The problem is Emris. Our schedule last month was basically, all sex. In his room, in mine, sometimes in a skyscraper hotel suite when his late-night meetings with the jet company ran long. Today is the 20th. No sign of my period. That can only mean one thing. We used protection… sometimes. When he remembered. Emris gets so lost in the claiming in a way that makes it impossible for either of us to think straight. I go out through the back kitchen, hoping to go unnoticed. "Where are you going?" Summer, my best friend blocks my path and shoves her hands into her flour-dusted apron, looking less like my ride-or-die and more like a very suspicious, pastry-based bouncer. "Luna Derisha is on a warpath today. So lucky you only answer to Emris. What's going on with you?" "Uh, I just have to run an errand—" "Ugh, don't even get me started. That Elena is such a snob. She brought thirty boxes of Louboutin, Chanel and had the nerve to ask if we'd ever touched anything like that. Please tell me a bitch like that isn't going to be our next Luna." "Summer, if anyone hears you, you're going to lose your job." Paxton warns, he’s the assistant chef. "She's not wrong. Riley is arranging Elena’s closet right now. There are, like, a hundred pairs." Someone else says. "Guys, I really have to go." I try to sidestep them. But Paxton places a hand around my stomach region to stop me. He's always been overly concerned about me. "Are you okay? You look a bit…pale." Before I can answer, my eyes do a casual sweep past his shoulder to the kitchen's large glass windows. And I freeze. Emris is there, a million-foot tall on the gravel, making a phone call in his stuntman stature. He’s staring straight at us. Specifically, at Paxton’s hand, which is currently resting on the exact location of his potential future heir. For his own safety, and to prevent a murder in the parking lot, I crank up a smile. "I'm fine, Pax! Really. Just a quick trip into town. I’ll be back soon.” I hurry out to the gardens but a text lights up my phone from Emris. Just one word: Garage. I knew he wouldn’t let what he saw slide. His private garage is dim and it’s the first time we'd met here. The car Emris is in is a black Bentley that cost more than my life. With blue interior lights that make him a villain of a sci-fi movie. Emris unfolds himself from the seat. “You’re gonna use that nobody to make me jealous!” He has the most devastatingly handsome face I’ve ever seen. Skin like rich gold, messy black hair that looks better the more he runs his hands through it. He’s taller and stronger than any man I’ve ever known. I’ve felt the raw power in his thighs when they move under me, I’ve listened to the steady beat of his heart against my chest. It’s the universe’s cruellest joke that a voice so rough and harsh comes attached to a mouth that gives the softest kisses. “That’s not what I was doing.” “What was he about to touch?” “Emris, Paxton is just my friend. I’ve told you this over and over… he’s just looking out for me.” He rises to his full, ridiculous height. A skyscraper of a jealous Alpha he will soon become. I am forced to step back until I bump into another of his cars. He’s jealous. And when he’s jealous, he’s less a man and more a walking, talking grenade with the pin already pulled. “Looking out for you?” He tilts his neck in that specific way he does, a gesture that shows the tattoos on his throat and across his collarbones. I know they travel all the way down to his waist. I’ve traced them with my fingers before. “Because I don’t do enough looking out for you already!?” “Someone could see us. I should go—” “Get in.” I just stare at him in surprise. Emris has never, ever let me in the same car as him before, especially not while we're on pack grounds. This is breaking like twelve of his own rules. “If someone sees—” He drags me to the passenger side and pushes me in. 3 Demetra. A moment later, he’s driving us smoothly away from the pack house, and I melt into the leather chair. “Where?” “Huh?” Emris hisses. “Where are you going? Don’t piss me off, Demetra.” “The, um… to the store.” “What could you possibly want from the store that you cannot get at the pack house!?” “Some hygiene products.” I squeakily lie. “And a new bra.” When we get to the shopping mall, his phone rings. Thank god, a distraction. He throws a black credit card at me without even looking, and I take it. I only accept because refusing would be a whole thing and I need him to be distracted. I go straight to the pharmacy section. My hands are literally shaking as I grab the test. I pay with my own cash and buy two, just to be sure. I also snag a random, overpriced bra I don’t need as my decoy. I lock myself in a bathroom stall and after ten minutes, my eyes instantly water when both tests show the result. Two pink lines. Two. I stare at myself in the mirror over the sink, looking again and again and again, as if my reflection will have a different answer. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with Emris’s child. I wipe the tears away, only for more to fall. It’s positive. Both tests are undeniably, life-falteringly positive. I stumble out of the stall and mumble an apology to the annoyed women waiting in line. I rush to the counter to pay for the bra, hastily wiping my cheeks and glancing out the mall to see if Emris is still in the car. My hands are shaking so badly I fumble the card, dropping it twice. As I turn from the counter, I bump hard into an older man and it sends my shopping bag and Emris's black credit card to the floor. "I'm so sorry!" I get to my knees to gather my things. The man bends down too and picks up the card. "Here you go—" "Thanks. I am so sorry, sir!" I repeat until he doesn't let go. I look up and see him staring at me with an expression of shock, so intense that the card in his hand actually trembles. "Sir…?" I try to pull it back. "What is your name?" he asks. "You look familiar. What pack are you from?" "Sir, please. I'm in a hurry." I finally manage to tug the card from his fingers but the encounter is far from over. "Alpha?" I look up to see a guy who must be a million inches tall, built like a valley, standing behind the older man. Did he just call him... Alpha? The older man ignores his guard or is it his Beta to continue staring at me. "You have white hair. You….you have white hair.” Why’s he looking at me like he's seen a ghost. Yes, I have white hair and so? My mind is reeling from the pregnancy tests, and now this? Will Emris accept the pregnancy? Will Emris be happy when I tell him? Will Luna Derisha kill me when she finds out I’ve been sleeping with her son? The future heir of the pack. The Beta speaks. "Alpha, you don't think she is—" “Please, have my business card.” The older man presses an embossed card into my hand but I don’t take it. “Sir, I don’t understand what you are saying or doing—” “I am searching for my daughter. She has white hair, just like…” “I am not your daughter!” A father is the last thing I have or need on this earth. “Dad?” Another young man, handsome and well-dressed, walks up, addressing the older man. The moment his eyes land on me, his jaw goes slack. While I’m distracted by the son’s stunned reaction, the older man quickly slips his business card into the palm of my hand and closes my fingers around it. And at that exact moment, Emris enters. One look at his eyes and I know I’m in deep, deep trouble. “You.” Emris voice makes everyone look in our direction. I rush to the side of the living temptress I call my mate, thinking he’s furious with me, but his eyes are on the group of men. “Emris, son of Alpha Kael.” the older man says. “I haven't seen you since your father’s death—” “Don’t start with me, old foolish man!” My mate hisses. The son of the older man comes close. “It’s me you hate, Emris. Leave my father out of it. After all, only one of us still has a father left.” The male insults the devastating storm that is my Alpha and walks out the door. The older man follows, and the hefty Beta is the last to exit. “Everyone. Leave.” Emris’s voice isn’t loud, but the store employees and customers run for the exits. Including the owner of the establishment. I don’t think there’s a soul in West Virginia who doesn’t know who Emris is, or the danger that radiates from him. As soon as everyone leaves, I start to explain. “I’m sorry I took so long. My… my stuff fell and—” “First, you throw that puppy, Paxton, in my face. And now I find you cozying up to that dying old man Ronin and his waste-of-space son, Slade. Are you seriously this desperate for attention, or just profoundly stupid?” My eyes widen in genuine shock. That was Slade? The rival Alpha Emris has hated since they were boys? The one from the Lion Pride pack? “I swear, Emris, I didn’t know—” I don’t get to finish when kicks a nearby display, sending a whole aisle of canned goods to the floor. “Why are you doing this!?” I clamp my hands over my ears. “Why am I doing this!?” He kicks another shelf which topples like dominoes, scattering products everywhere before he storms back to me. “I saw him slip you his card. What’s your price, Demetra? Huh? Was my bed not enough of a platform for you to audition for your next role? Are you planning to be Slade’s new step-mom or Slade’s little whore? After acting so damn pure with me, refusing the things I try to give you… you come here to meet with Slade? To become his whore, just like you are to me?” Emris’ words don’t just hurt. They dissolve me. The heat behind my eyes instantly melts into tears that stream down my face. “W-whore? You are the only person I have ever been with!” “Then what do you call a person who is available for me to use morning and night? A convenience. You clean up my messes and warm my bed. I didn't call you anything you haven't proven yourself to be. Now, take whatever pathetic offer that old man gave you and get the hell out of my life forever.” Emris turns to leave but I run after him, furious tears blinding me as I throw my arms around his back like an idiot. “How can you call me that!?” I weep on his shirt. Emris pries my hands off with cold strength. “I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the interaction—” “I tried so hard! I refused your gifts, your money… I did everything I could so you would never, ever look at me that way! But at the end of the day, this is what you think of me? You have no heart, Emris. You are dark. You are…” I gasp for air as the insult dies on my tongue. “I am Alpha! My father is dead and I will be Alpha soon. If you’re still in my territory when I formalize my title, I will personally escort you down the Walk of Judgment. I’ll make sure the entire pack knows exactly what you are.” The Walk of Judgment is a nightmare. A walk of shame where the pack forces you out while throwing filth at you, sometimes tearing the clothes from your back. It’s the ultimate disgrace before being cast out to become a rogue. And he just threatened me with it. I force Emris to face me again. “It’s me, Demetra! Why are you acting this way? It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know that was Slade! I didn’t know who they were!” “And he gave you a card. You might be naive enough to believe that was a coincidence, but I’m not, Demetra. So much for loyalty. How long has this been going on? How long have you been spreading your legs for Slade? Or is the old man getting a turn, too?” Emris insults are too much so I slap him! His head snaps to the side. Once I do that, there is only the sound of his breathing. His chest begins to rise, and rise, and rise so I move away. “We’re done.” Emris storms out. I watch through the glassed door as he speaks to the mall owner before getting into his car and speeding away, leaving me in the wreckage. 4 Demetra. Slowly, I sink to my knees and weep from my lungs so deep it feels like it will break me. I am inconsolable, lost in a storm of tears when a timid voice speaks. “Miss? The… the man said you are the one to clean up the mess he made.” I look up at the mall owner and I frown into tears. How can we be over when I carry a new life, a part of him, inside my belly? ******** I get back to the pack house a little past midnight. My body aches everywhere…. like even my bones are tired. I don’t bother turning on the light; I just crawl into bed and start crying all over again. The kind of crying that makes your throat hurt. Slade. Of all people, it had to be him. Emris hates Slade more than he hates any other enemy. He’s the son of Alpha Ronni from the Lion Pride Pack. The Lion Pride Pack and the Black Covenant share a territory….joined by waters, separated by Alphas. They’re rich, powerful but Emris would rather die than be in the same room as them. I didn’t even recognize them! The older man just… he thought I was someone else. My phone glows in the dark: 2:17 AM. A part of me still wants to go to him, to tell him again that this is a mistake. Maybe if he just listens one more time, he’ll see it. Why does loving him make me feel like such an idiot? I know deep down he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve me. And yet… I still do. When I finally wake up, it’s because someone’s tapping my arm. “Demetra!” It’s the head chef’s voice. “Goodness, child, I thought you were dead for a second. Do you realize you’ve slept two hours past your shift? Emris’ suite—” Once I see it’s morning, I leap out of bed and dash into the bathroom. I’m so dead. I’m supposed to clean Emris’s room before he gets back from the gym. If even one of his stupid, expensive things is out of place, he throws a fit. Then he’s late for breakfast, and the whole pack knows it’s my fault. I shower and throw on my uniform then take the elevator straight up to the penthouse level. I start planning my apology in my head as I move into Emris’ floor. Suddenly, I stop because standing right in the middle of the living room are Elena and Luna Derisha. And Luna Derisha is holding something lacy and blue between her fingers. My bra. It’s the one Emris took yesterday. The one I told him, over and over, to give back. I forget how to breathe but I have to say something. “Lu… Luna.” Luna Derisha’s violet eyes look almost black. “Who owns this?” I rub my hands on my apron like that’ll make me look less guilty. “Um… I don’t know.” I lie. The door behind me swings open and Radu fills the threshold like a dark mountain. He is the Luna’s gamma, the wolf everyone hushes for in the halls. He’s the one who rescued Emris after he was kidnapped and caged for two years as a kid. Radu doesn’t waste words, he only growls and moves when the Luna says so. Seeing him here means this isn’t just a scolding; it’s an execution. “You fucking slut! You’re trying to seduce my son. You put your bra in my son’s closet.” Elena shakes her head. “How old are you to be acting so shameless? You’re at least seven years younger than Emris!?” “Luna, it’s not… it’s not mine.” “It smells like you. Filthy. My son, who is going to be Alpha, is the person you’re trying to seduce? You’re just like that maggot of a mother who gave birth to you! That bitch spread her legs for every man in the pack just to climb the ladder, and you ended up following the worst of her traits—” Her hot hand snatches my hair! Then, Luna Derisha uses it to bring to my knees. It’s so painful, so utterly painful and shocking that I taste metal and then white light. I see a bunch of my hair in her hands and then I feel blood coming from my scalp. I look up in tears. “It’s not yours. Fine. We’ll test it, then. Bring her downstairs where all the pack employees look. I will use this bitch as a lesson.” “Luna, please! Luna, please!” My screams are short as Radu’s massive hand closes around my ankle. He doesn’t even lift me; he just uses my own body to drag me across the floor. My uniform rides as I twist and kick, but it doesn’t matter. By the time we reach the hall downstairs, every pack employee is there. Cooks, cleaners, security, everyone is looking at me at the centre. I’m trembling on my knees. I’ve always feared Luna Derisha, but never like this. Never when Emris isn’t here to stop her. “I hope you’re all watching…” Elena says loudly. “This is what happens to anyone who thinks they can seduce the future Alpha. Your little colleague here hid her bra in his closet, and now she’s pretending it isn’t hers.” Luna Derisha tosses the fabric at my face. “If you say it’s not yours, prove it.” I am not able to stop shaking. “But Luna….” the head chef speaks up for me. “In front of everyone?” “Are you questioning me?” “Apologies, Luna! Apologies!” I crawl forward on my hands and knees in tears. I grab the hem of Luna Derisha’s designer dress. “Please. Forgive me. I’ll never do anything like this again. Please.” “Luna, I’m begging you. Pleaseee-“ “You should have thought of that before you tried to disgrace my family.” Luna Derisha looks at Radu and I hear his boots coming forward. I feel Radu’s hands on the back of my uniform and the fabric rips straight down my back. I scream, trying to cover myself. “Rip the bra, too so she can try this one.” Radu obeys. The straps of my own bra snap, and I sob, using my long white hair as a pathetic curtain to hide my body. Through the veil of my hair, I see some of the male employees turn their backs so they don’t watch. The girls just stare in horror. I am naked, on my knees, utterly broken. Through, my sobs, I hear the one sound that could make this worse. The sound of the Luna’s sons. Emris. Silver and Regan. I’m shivering, naked and exposed on my knees, when I look up and see them standing there. “What the hell is going on here!?” Emris yells, looking at me. Elena and Luna Derisha spin around. They hadn’t seen him come in. “Mom, what the hell.” Silver says. Regan, the other brother, just chuckles. “Isn’t she Emris’s pretty little housekeeper?” “No, she is her mother’s daughter!” Luna Derisha shrieks. “And I don’t care what you say today, I will punish her mercilessly! Put on the bra, now!” I squeeze my eyes shut. I will rather die right here than be humiliated any further. “Demetra!” I hear Paxton’s voice, and he’s already at my side. Before I can say anything, he uses his own chef’s coat as a wrap around my shoulders. “Paxton.” I shake my head. “She needs more cover!” He yells to anyone who’ll listen and for a second, I think he might fight them all. “Paxton!?” Susan, the head chef calls out to warn him but he doesn’t answer. Then I hear a rumbling growl from Radu. My eyes dart up just in time to see the massive Gamma take a step forward to make an example of Radu but Emris moves faster. He doesn’t go for Radu. He goes straight for Paxton, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him away from me. “The Luna gives an order and you bring yourself into the middle of it!” I can see it in Emris eyes. This isn’t just about the Luna’s command. This is all the jealousy he’s been holding for Paxton, finally finding a public excuse to explode. “Demetra would never try to seduce you! There has to be some mistake!” Paxton chokes in Emris’s grip. “We all know Demetra! She’s kind, she’s content, and she’s worked her entire life for this pack!” Emris’s eyes flash with a dark, wicked fire. “What are you… her little lover?” I watch, horrified, as his hand tightens around Paxton’s throat. Paxton’s face begins to turn a terrifying shade of purple. “Stop!” I yell. “If I were her lover, so what?” Paxton gasps. “Are we so little to you that we are not worth your love, too? If I were, what does it even matter to—” Emris hurls Paxton across the room into the bar cellar in an explosion of shattering glass and wood. The crowd screams, some scatter in fear, others rush to help him. I get up to see if he’s okay. But Emris has something to say to me. “Get out of my pack now!” The shout makes my whole wolf skitter and break in half. 5 Demetra. “But you know I have only you.” I whisper. I need him to remember. I need him to remember that in this entire, cruel world, he’s the only one I have. “What the hell do you mean by that!?” Elena inserts herself. Emris eyes are empty. “You have ten minutes to leave the pack house. If she doesn’t, Radu makes sure she leaves with a claw mark as a souvenir.” Then he walks away. Susan is the first to reach me. “Come on, sweetheart, quickly!” When we reach my room, she lets go so I can pack. I pull on a shirt with trembling hands. My fingers fumble with the zipper of an old bag I drag out from the closet. My chest hurts; my throat burns. I’m shaking so badly it’s hard to fold anything right. I keep thinking: I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and I have nowhere to go. No one to call family. My mate, the only person I ever thought I had just destroyed me. With five minutes left before Radu comes, I can’t breathe. That’s when I see the business card Alpha Ronni gave me, lying at the corner of my mirror table. His name, his number. I grab it. When I step out, Summer, Susan, and the others are waiting in the hallway. One by one, they hug me quickly, whispering goodbyes. I don’t trust myself to speak so I just keep moving before I fall apart. Downstairs, Luna Derisha is waiting. Silver and Regan step aside to let me through. “Elena?” Luna says lightly, “just promise me that right after you and Emris are married, you’ll give me a grandchild.” Elena smiles. “Of course, Mother-in-law.” I press a trembling hand to my stomach and swallow the scream sitting in my throat. Emris, I swear you’ll never know that I left with a part of you. I leave the Black Covenant Pack house and I don’t look back. Outside the gate, I just carry my light bag and think. Do I call? Do I not? Alpha Ronni barely knows me. No one outside this territory even knows me. I check my wallet and there’s a few bucks at most. Luna Derisha always said food and a bed were my payment so I can’t even afford a motel. I need help. I take out my phone, type in the number on the card, and call. “Hello?” I try not to cry. “Yes… um, I’m Demetra.” I stammer into the phone. “We met — at the store. I was with Emris that day. You are Alpha Ronni—” There’s a pause, then a deep, surprised voice. “Yes, you. I can’t believe you’re calling. Are you all right?” “I…I’m sorry to bother you, Alpha. I just… I have nowhere else to go. That’s why I called.” Silence. I hear my own heartbeat. My mind starts racing and I think what am I doing? He’s an Alpha. I shouldn’t even be calling him. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be calling you. You’re—” “Where are you right now?” “I’m just outside the Black Covenant gates.” I look around me. “I’ll send an escort. A convoy of cars. You’ll be brought to safety at once. Don’t move. Do you understand me?” “Yes…yes Alpha.” The line goes dead, and I clutch the phone to my chest. I look down at my belly and make a promise that Emris will never get to know of my child. He will search for me but he will never find. This heart will never forgive him. This heart will never forgive everyone in the Black covenant pack. ********** Five years later. West Virginia Airport. “Tired?” My dad, Alpha Ronin, wraps his hand around mine in the first-class seat. It’s warm. Six hours from Manila and my butt is sore. “I’m beyond tired.” I mumble through a yawn and glance sideways. “She’s still asleep?” Amira, my daughter is hugging Grandpa’s arms with her mouth slightly open after being a menace the entire flight. The air hostess approaches, politely informing us that the path is clear for us to leave the plane. I start gathering my laptop, my sketchbook, pens— “Mr. Pride, Miss. Pride, this way.” We don’t lift a finger. Not for the bags, not for anything. The moment our feet touch the ground, a black car is already waiting to take us straight from the plane One of the many, many perks of being the daughter of the Alpha of the Lion pack. It still feels a little like playing dress-up, like any minute someone’s going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Okay, fun’s over. Back to being the Black covenant’s charity case.” Five years ago, I called the number on that business card, not knowing I was dialing my own future. Back then in that store, Alpha Ronin recognized me not because he knew me…but because he knew my mother. A one-night stand. A mistake. Or maybe fate being cruelly efficient. White hair is pretty rare for wolves. Most people bleach or dye it, trying to look cool or intimidating. So it’s hard to spot a true one in the wild. But Alpha Ronin said he saw her in my face and the shape of my eyes. He had to be sure if I was his. When I called him, a fleet of cars arrived like and I was taken to the Lion Pack estate. They didn’t treat me like a stray. They treated me like a person. Like family, even before we knew for sure. That was when I met Slade. My half-brother. Then Alpha Ronin said my mother’s name and suddenly, everything clicked. The Black Covenant Pack had told me the history of my mother and since Alpha Ronin claimed he had a one-night stand with her, I agreed for a DNA test. It proved that Alpha Ronin was my father. All that time, I’d been an Alpha’s daughter, living on my knees. All those years I spent surviving as a charity case, I was the daughter of an Alpha. I nursed my broken heart for a year straight. Some days it nearly kills me but I survived because I wasn’t not alone. Then I give birth to Amira. And somehow, I break all over again. She has Emris’ hair. His eyebrows. His face hiding in hers so clearly it hurts to look at her for too long. Every time I hold her, the truth settles deeper into my bones that she is going to grow up without knowing her father. He doesn’t know she exists. And even if he did… I’m not sure he would care. That thought almost destroyed me. But Amira also saves me. I find strength in her tiny hands, in the way she curls against my chest like I’m her entire world. My dad notices the way I’m fading so he makes the decision for me when I’m too weak to make it myself. I need to leave the country so I choose Paris without really thinking. It sounds far away enough. I don’t realize what it will become until I’m standing inside the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen…flowers everywhere, gardens and that’s where I begin to paint. I paint my pain. I paint my past. I paint my heartbreak. I put every ounce of "him" and every ounce of onto those canvases. I shut out the entire world, focused only on my little girl and the colors on my palette. I started going to art school, not to find myself, but to prove I could. And then I sold my first piece. The first bidder wanted it for hundreds of millions. Just like that, I wasn't just Demetra. I was Demetra Pride, the millionaire artist who came out of nowhere. That sale did something more than fill my bank account. It gave me a new bone structure, one made of confidence. I believed I could do anything. In Paris, dad retires from leading the pack just to be with me and his granddaughter. For a while, it’s just us but now… after five years, we are back. We’ve returned to support Slade as he fully takes the reins of the pack. And Dad… he says it’s my duty, too. To help run it alongside my brother. He doesn’t want Amira growing up away from her entire family, from her legacy. I’m ready. I no longer nurse a broken heart. I have nothing to run from anymore. When we arrive at the pack house, everyone is already waiting. Dad squeezes my hand as we walk toward the entrance. "Ready, cub?" That’s his nickname for me. I squeeze back. "Born ready."

Four years in prison forged her into steel. Now she’s back—beautiful, brilliant, and utterly untouchable. ===== Chapter 1 Four Years After Her Imprisonment Inside Wront Prison, the July heat hung so heavy that it was hard to breathe. Just as she let her sleeve drop to cover the glaring scar on her arm, Maia Watson -- once known as Maia Morgan -- heard a correctional officer call out, "Maia, someone from the Morgan family is here to pick you up!" Her hand froze midway through the motion. Hearing "Morgan family" again was like tasting something bitter and familiar all at once. She had once been the daughter of the Morgan family. Everything fell apart four years ago, when the police knocked on their door and announced they'd tracked down Richard Morgan and Sandra Morgan's real daughter -- Rosanna Morgan. In the blink of an eye, Maia's identity was ripped away. She was branded a fraud, a fake. Her real parents had died long ago. To keep up appearances, the Morgans made a show of acceptance. They told the world that they still saw Maia as family. But anyone who had watched them for seventeen years would know better. Richard and Sandra had always been preoccupied with business ventures. Maia had been more like a guest in their home than a daughter. Then Rosanna came back, and suddenly, their entire world revolved around her. Then came the incident with Radiant Jewels. Rosanna stole a prized treasure and pinned the blame on Maia. It was an obvious setup, but the Morgans didn't care. They believed Rosanna without question. In fact, they helped her. They made public accusations and did it with such ease that Maia never stood a chance. Radiant Jewels belonged to the Cooper Group. The Coopers weren't just powerful. In Wront, they were practically royalty. The Morgans couldn't risk offending them -- not for someone who wasn't even their real daughter. They erased Maia's name from the Morgan family, told the public that she was taken in from a struggling family called the Watsons, and sent her straight to prison. At the memory, Maia's knuckles tightened until her nails bit into her skin. She had survived four years behind bars for a crime Rosanna committed. And now, that sentence was over. She was finally getting out. ... Just beyond the prison gates, the crowd of reporters buzzed with restless energy. Heat rippled through the air, and impatience showed on every face. Then, at last, the massive gates creaked open. Maia walked out into the sunlight, dressed in the same plain outfit she wore the day she was locked away. The second Sandra caught sight of Maia, her face lit up like she had just spotted a long-lost child. She rushed over, surrounded by a swarm of reporters waving microphones and flashing cameras. Maia watched the entire spectacle and nearly rolled her eyes. "Maia, my dear daughter, I came to bring you home," Sandra said, her voice catching as tears shimmered in her eyes. Even a few of the reporters nearby couldn't help but murmur in sympathy at the emotional performance. Unfazed, Maia stared her down and said coldly, "You must be mistaken, Mrs. Morgan. I'm not your daughter." Sandra stiffened where she stood. She quickly recovered and painted sorrow across her face. "How could you say that, Maia? I was the one who raised you. You lived under my roof for more than ten years. I've never once stopped thinking of you as my daughter." Maia's lips twitched into a cold smirk. "Is that right? Then remind me -- four years ago, when you framed me and cast me out, didn't you call me a Watson? You let me go to prison without a second thought. I stopped being your daughter the day you erased me from your family." Framed? To top it off, they said she wasn't even a Morgan -- she was a Watson? Maia's few words hit like a bomb. Reporters traded stunned looks, then chaos broke loose as they rushed forward, shoving microphones closer, eager to catch every word. With cameras pointed her way, Sandra had no room to lash out. Her face tightened, but she forced down the anger bubbling inside. Right then, a voice sliced through the commotion. "Maia! What kind of lies are you feeding everyone? The treasure from Radiant Jewels was found right in your bag -- you were caught red-handed! How dare you claim you were framed? You spent four years behind bars, and we still dragged ourselves through this heat to pick you up. And this is how you thank us? You sound like someone spitting at the hand that once fed you!" Jarrod Morgan was the one speaking -- the oldest son of Sandra and Richard. Maia had always thought of him as a big brother. But when the truth was twisted against her, he turned on her without hesitation to defend Rosanna, even going as far as shoving her to the floor. She had landed hard. Her arm struck the sharp corner of a table, ripping her skin open and leaving behind a scar that never truly faded. That infamous jewel? Rosanna had slipped it into Maia's bag while she was washing her hands in the restroom. At the time, Maia had genuinely believed that Rosanna meant well. She had seemed warm, honest, and eager to be friends. That was why, when Rosanna offered to help, Maia handed her the bag without a second guess. The thought that someone so soft-spoken and sweet could harbor such petty cruelty had never crossed Maia's mind. The reason behind it was that she saw Maia as a threat. Afraid that Maia might become more beloved in the Morgan family, Rosanna decided to eliminate her. That was the day Maia's eyes were opened to the truth about the Morgan family. Since then, her heart had been hardened by betrayal. "She must still be upset with me. That's why she's twisting everything..." Rosanna clung to Jarrod, her voice trembling as her lashes fluttered through misty eyes. "Maia, I swear I never came back to steal your place in the family. Please don't hate me for this." Tears spilled down her cheeks as her slender frame shook. Jarrod couldn't stand to see her cry. He pulled her close and said, "This isn't on you, Rosanna. Maia stole a life that was rightfully yours for seventeen years. She's the one who did wrong. If she can't admit it, then maybe more time behind bars will teach her." "That's enough!" Sandra gave him a sharp look, flicking her eyes toward the hovering press. With this many cameras rolling, she couldn't afford to lose control. Facing the press, she quickly put on a diplomatic smile. "It's been four years since Maia lived with us. She's clearly still adjusting, and I can understand her emotions. If she can acknowledge her mistakes and show some changes, she'll always be part of my family." Part of her family? Maia let out a laugh that was anything but amused. She arched a brow and looked her dead in the eye. "Mrs. Morgan, didn't you sign off on the paperwork that cut all ties between us? Is that it? You're saying you actually want me back in your family now?" Chapter 2 Her Husband Sandra's face darkened instantly. Back then, in order to cut off any connection with Maia, the Morgans had forced her to sign a severance document -- with a representative from the Cooper Group as witness, just to clear their name from any future accusations. It had been an act of desperation, not dignity. A swarm of reporters rushed in, shoving microphones toward Sandra. "Mrs. Morgan, is this true? You once said you wouldn't abandon Maia, that she was still your daughter even after reuniting with your biological child." Trying to keep her composure, Sandra mustered a smile that barely held. "That's… not true. Of course not." With a sly grin, Maia said, "So, Mrs. Morgan, do you have the nerve to call someone from the Cooper Group and find out if that severance document exists or not?" "Maia, don't go too far! The people from the Cooper Group aren't someone we can just summon at will!" Jarrod shouted, his anger flaring from the sidelines. With a smug tilt of her brow, Maia glanced his way. "So you're admitting you won't call them." Jarrod was left speechless. The image they had worked so hard to maintain was starting to fall apart, and Sandra scrambled to play the sympathy card. Her body shook with a sudden cough, loud and dramatic. Catching on quickly, Rosanna hurried to her mother's side and rubbed her back in gentle circles. "Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Her gaze then shifted to Maia, filled with exaggerated grievance. "She's been worried sick ever since you were locked up. She cries every night, Maia. The doctor warned us that her health is getting worse. And if you still care -- even a little -- for everything she did for you growing up, don't make this harder. Just come back with us." Maia felt nauseated by Rosanna's pretentious act. Come back with them? Those words used to bring comfort to her. But now, they meant nothing anymore. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up with them again. There was no mistaking the resolve etched across her face. "That girl you all knew -- she died four years ago. And the Morgans were the ones who buried her." Maia said her piece, then strode through the crowd and walked away without looking back. The moment she was gone, Sandra dropped to the ground, putting on a show of sobs like her heart had just shattered. She took a dramatic, deep breath before collapsing in a faint. Panic erupted instantly as gasps and shouts filled the scene. Wasting no time, Jarrod lifted Sandra into his arms, while Rosanna trailed right behind him. The second the car doors shut and the cameras were behind them, Sandra's eyes snapped open, and she straightened up without effort. Had she not faked that collapse, everything might've unraveled beyond repair. This whole mess, in her mind, traced back to one person -- Maia. They had shown up at the prison, making a public effort to welcome her back with grace. And how did she respond? By dragging the entire Morgan name through the dirt in front of a crowd. There wasn't a single ounce of gratitude in that girl. "She's outrageous! We gave her everything and she turns on us like this!" Jarrod cursed angrily, gripping the steering wheel. The warmth in Sandra's face vanished, replaced by a sudden chill in her eyes. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "No money. A criminal record that sticks to her like glue. She's got nothing to her name. Without us, she's done. There's no doubt Maia will return -- and when she does, I'll have more than enough ways to handle her!" ... Later that afternoon, Maia stood alone in front of City Hall in Wront, with some documents required for marriage registration in her handbag. There was still time before her appointment, so she leaned casually against a tree, eyes downcast, thoughts drifting far from the present. Back when she first stepped into prison four years ago, the torment seemed relentless, etched into every corner of her memory. one night, when she was nearly beaten within an inch of her life, someone had stepped in to save her. It wasn't a guard. It was a woman -- an inmate with more influence than anyone else. Her cell looked more like a private suite, and even the correctional officers stayed out of her way. Most inmates feared her and kept far out of her path. But for some reason, she had taken an interest in Maia. She offered protection -- but it came with a condition. If Maia wanted that safety, she had to accept a marriage agreement and carry out a task afterward. Back then, trapped in a nightmare with no way out, Maia had no room to refuse. Survival meant sacrifice. Without hesitation, she agreed to the deal and pledged her loyalty to the woman who'd saved her. Fulfilling that promise had become her top priority now that she was free. That meant going through with the marriage agreement she'd accepted in prison. Not far away, a stretch Rolls-Royce Phantom was parked in the shadows. "Is that the one your aunt picked for you to marry, sir?" asked Brad Curtis, Chris Cooper's special assistant. The view through the car window revealed a woman with lowered eyes and a slim frame. Dressed in a plain white shirt and low-rise jeans, she moved with ease. When she stretched, her slim waist showed for just a moment. There was a boldness in her silence. An edge of defiance that didn't ask for approval. Pretty as she was, her past carried a criminal record that couldn't be ignored. Brad couldn't understand why Zoey Cooper had pushed for this match. What could she possibly see in a woman who had served time? Even more puzzling was the fact that Chris hadn't objected. Reclining in the back seat, Chris rested his arm with easy confidence, his rolled-up sleeve showing off a well-toned forearm. His eyes, narrowed slightly, settled on the woman's exposed waist, and an amused glint danced across his face. Without a word, he shoved the car door open and stepped out. "Are you Miss Maia Watson?" Maia turned when she heard someone call her name. She stood still for a second, caught off guard. A man in a fitted black shirt stood before her, tall enough to block the sun from her face. He looked unreal. Handsome in a way that made her pause. Each feature flawless, almost sculpted. Could this really be the illegitimate son of the Cooper family Zoey had mentioned? The one with a bad reputation and a trail of reckless rumors following him? A flicker of discomfort ran through her chest. "Are you... Mr. Chris Cooper?" she asked, uncertain. He gave her a small nod. Her eyes wandered back to him, studying every detail. His clothes were simple, but something refined clung to him. That faint smile hovered on his lips, never quite touching his eyes, leaving just enough mystery to stir her curiosity. "You've been staring for a while now, Miss Watson." Chris let out a soft laugh. Snapping out of it, Maia quickly turned her head, realizing just how obvious she'd been. "My bad… Should we head inside?" she asked, trying to recover. Together, they made their way into City Hall. When they came back out, a marriage certificate rested in Chris' hand. "I'll keep my end of the bargain, Mr. Cooper. Once Zoey's request is fulfilled, I won't stick around. I'll file for divorce right after," Maia said. Feelings weren't part of their arrangement, and she wasn't delusional. Most men wouldn't sign up for a life with someone who had a prison record. Chris tilted his head, casting her a look. Her dark hair danced in the breeze, and while her face was striking, there was something clear and honest in her eyes. Instead of answering her directly, he asked, "Is my aunt doing okay in there?" Thrown off by the change in topic, Maia answered quickly, "She's healthy. Nothing bad has happened to her." After a short pause, she pressed her lips together. Truth be told, Zoey didn't just survive in prison -- she thrived. It was practically her comfort zone. "Glad to hear it." Chris didn't ask anything more. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek credit card, and handed it to her. "Here. A little something to welcome you in." Maia shook her head, hands raised in protest. "That's not necessary. I've got my own money." Sure, they were now legally married, but it was still their first day meeting. And from what Zoey had shared, Chris might've had the Cooper name, but he was treated like an outsider. His standing in the family and at the Cooper Group was practically nonexistent. From what she'd heard, he held no serious job title and spent most days drifting aimlessly. She figured that he probably didn't have much saved up either. The thought of accepting anything from him made her uncomfortable. But Chris didn't waver. He took her hand, placed the card firmly in her palm, and didn't let go. His eyes locked onto hers -- cool, enigmatic, and impossible to read. "We just completed the marriage registration, which technically makes me your husband now. That gives you every right to use my money. Or is it that you're turning it down because you're not ready to admit I'm your husband?" Hearing that word -- husband -- sent a faint flush across Maia's otherwise composed features. "I'm not saying that..." Maia began, trying to explain, but her voice trailed off before she could land on the right words. Without another word, she took the card and gave him a quiet, polite thank you. Seeing her relent, Chris showed a smile of approval. "So, where are you heading? I'll give you a ride." At that moment, a weight settled in Maia's chest. Her plan was to return to the Morgan family home. It wasn't the house she cared about. What mattered was the bracelet -- the last gift to her from her grandmother, Vicki Morgan. Back when Richard and Sandra treated her like an afterthought, Vicki had been the one constant. She had taught Maia everything from table manners to standing tall in a crowd. Though no blood tied them together, Vicki's love had been as real as any grandmother's. Maia knew, without doubt, that if Vicki had still been alive, she would've defended her with everything she had. That thought brought a quiet ache Maia didn't show. Still, she shook it off and gave Chris a calm smile. "There's something I need to handle, Mr. Cooper. I'll be fine on my own." "No problem. Just call if you need anything." He handed her his number, then stayed behind as she walked off. When her silhouette finally disappeared around the corner, he glanced down at the marriage certificate still in his hand. A knowing smile curved his lips. Divorce? Not happening. Nobody could guess how long he'd been waiting for this moment. Chapter 3 Returning To The Morgan Estate Again Maia stood outside Vista Villas, her finger pressing the doorbell of the Morgan estate. She had picked this time carefully -- she remembered how afternoons were usually quiet, each family member off chasing their own distractions. When the door creaked open, it was Tricia Scott, the longtime housekeeper. Her eyes flew wide at the sight. "Is that really you, Miss Morgan? I... I can't believe you're here!" The moment the words spilled out, Tricia covered her mouth with her hand, instantly regretting them. The title belonged to Rosanna now. As far as the Morgans were concerned, Maia didn't exist anymore. And if Rosanna happened to hear how Tricia had spoken to Maia, the fallout would be brutal. With a quiet, measured tone, Maia said, "I'm just here to pick up a few of my things." Then she walked in as if she'd never been gone. Just as she'd expected, the place felt empty -- eerily so. No voices, no footsteps. As she made her way toward the stairs, Tricia rushed after her in a fluster. "Miss... uh, Maia, what exactly are you looking for? I can help you search." "It's alright, Tricia. Everything I need should still be in my room. I'll just be a moment." But before she could take another step, Tricia blocked her path. Her gaze darted everywhere but Maia's face. "Well, um… about that…" A crease formed on Maia's forehead. Something didn't sit right. Her voice lost its calm edge. "Tricia, what happened?" With her shoulders sinking, Tricia finally gave in. A weary sigh escaped her. "Miss Morgan cleared everything out after you were imprisoned. And your old room -- it's not yours anymore. It's just a storage room now." Maia froze. Her eyes grew wide, disbelief settling in. "Everything?" So was the bracelet that Vicki had given her thrown away, too? A slow, regretful nod from Tricia confirmed what Maia had feared. The truth hit Maia hard, sudden and brutal, like a lightning strike. Someone like Rosanna wouldn't have had the guts to toss out her things unless Richard and Sandra were in on it too. Trembling from head to toe, Maia clenched her fists tight. That bracelet had been Vicki's last gift to her -- a symbol of love in a house that had offered her none. Anger swelled inside her, fierce and uncontrollable. She had tried to walk away from the Morgan family, to leave the past buried. But now, all that anger came roaring back. From behind, a voice she hadn't missed in the slightest cut through the room. "I knew you'd show your face again, Maia!" Maia turned to look. Jarrod was there, standing a short distance away, that same smug grin plastered across his face. Rosanna was by Sandra's side, gripping her arm as if playing the dutiful daughter for the cameras no one could see. Without saying another word, Tricia slipped out of the room, sensing the tension. Jarrod closed the space between them, towering slightly over Maia as he looked down with smug contempt. "You were really bold outside the prison this morning. What's the deal now? Sneaking back in like this? Let me guess. With a record like yours, no one's gonna hire you. So you came crawling back. We're the only ones still willing to throw you a scrap, aren't we?" With a lifted brow and a voice filled with sarcasm, he said, "Here's a thought -- admit everything now. Post a public apology to the Morgan family, and maybe we'll let you stick around out of pity. Sound fair?" Jarrod had been simmering with rage ever since that morning. That stunt Maia pulled with the press had bruised the Morgan name, and while he hadn't lashed out then, he was done holding it in. Now that she had walked straight into their home, he planned to crush whatever defiance she still had left from prison. Putting Maia in her place felt long overdue, and now that she had returned to the house, Jarrod believed it was his right to set her straight. An apology, a fresh start, and keeping her distance from Rosanna -- that was all it would take for him to consider letting Maia back into the family. The cost of keeping her around barely made a dent in the Morgan finances. Feeding her and offering shelter was no different from tossing away loose change. Still, even freeloaders usually had the sense to be polite. A bit of humility wasn't too much to expect. But Maia acted like the world owed her a debt. That attitude made his blood boil. When Maia stepped forward, Jarrod lifted a brow and folded his arms, fully expecting her to stop and beg for forgiveness. Instead, she walked right past him without a single glance, heading straight toward Rosanna. His smugness vanished in an instant. Then again, Rosanna was the one Maia had insulted publicly. Maybe this was her way of making things right. But what came out of Maia's mouth next shattered that assumption. "Where are my things, Rosanna?" Rosanna stiffened on the spot. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes before she painted on a look of pure innocence. "What things? Maia, I have no idea what you're going on about." A cold fire lit up Maia's eyes, the kind that didn't just glare -- it cut. Her stare locked onto Rosanna like a blade, and her tone came out flat, stripped of emotion. "This is the last time I'll ask. Where did you put everything that was in my room?" Instantly, Rosanna's face crumpled into a pitiful expression, and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't mean anything by it, Maia. I just… I thought they'd wear out if I left them there too long. I figured I'd replace them once you came back, so I--" Before she could finish, a loud slap cracked through the room, cutting the air like lightning. Chapter 4 It Ends Here Rosanna's cheek flared red with a vivid mark where Maia's hand had struck. Frozen in disbelief, she barely registered Maia's voice cutting through the moment like a whip. "Who gave you the right to go through my things?" Jarrod's expression twisted in shock, his eyes darkening with fury. In a rush, he moved in front of Rosanna, shielding her with his body. One look at her tear-streaked face, swollen from the rising bruise on her cheek, and something snapped inside him. His hands curled into fists. Maia striking Rosanna was enough to make his blood boil. It was clear she had no respect for him whatsoever. If she wouldn't listen, he'd make her. Today, she'd pay for that disrespect. He raised his hand, ready to strike -- but before it could fall, Maia's hand shot up and caught his wrist, stopping him cold. With one swift motion, she shoved him hard. Jarrod stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance. He stared, stunned, at the woman standing before him. The person he saw now felt like a stranger. The Maia he remembered had always trailed after him when he occasionally visited home, like a little shadow. But that version of her no longer existed. Four years behind bars had carved out someone sharper, someone who stood on her own. Where had this strength come from? He couldn't say. Back in her early days in prison, Maia faced constant bullying and abuse -- fresh bruises forming before the old ones even had a chance to fade. Still, she never cried for help. Never lowered her head. One day, pushed too far, she snapped. With pure rage, she sank her teeth into the prison's top dog and wrestled her to the floor. Blow after blow landed on her back, but Maia never let go. Over time, and with Zoey's relentless training, Maia sharpened her instincts and became a fighter no one dared to provoke. Eventually, the threats faded. She'd earned both her place and their fear. Jarrod stayed put, placing himself between Maia and Rosanna, his glare sharp and unwavering. "Maia, you've completely lost it! We're talking about some old clothes and random junk -- nothing worth a fight! And you hit Rosanna over that? Apologize. Now!" Maia's sudden outburst caught Sandra off guard. After a short pause, she wrapped Rosanna in her arms, worry etched across her face. She glared furiously at Maia as she said, "I'm the one who gave permission to throw out your things! Rosanna only meant well. She was going to buy everything back -- new and fresh -- so you wouldn't be haunted by the past! But you? You didn't just reject that. You hit her! After everything, I never thought you'd sink this low. Maia, you've truly disappointed me!" Disappointed? A cold laugh slipped from Maia's lips. That same line had been used four years ago -- right after they framed her. They'd shielded Rosanna back then too. And Maia? She'd been the target. If anyone deserved to feel disappointed, it was Maia. She had already buried every last bit of hope she once held for the Morgan family. Her eyes settled on Sandra -- the woman she used to call "Mom." There was a time Maia loved and respected Sandra, even if Sandra rarely showed she cared. Now, that love twisted into something sharp in her chest. "You've always known I can't stand people touching my belongings," Maia said, her voice tight with restraint. "And still, you let her throw them out. Did you even realize that Vicki's bracelet was among them?" Sandra had always been busy and seldom paid attention to Maia's life, but this particular habit of Maia's was something she knew clearly. But when it came to Rosanna, Sandra's judgment blurred. Years of guilt over being absent in Rosanna's life made her overcompensate. And when Rosanna wanted something, Sandra never said no. For more than ten years, Maia had lived the life that should've been Rosanna's -- or so Sandra believed. So what harm was there in throwing out a few of her things? To Sandra, even if Rosanna had been the one who stole the treasure from Radiant Jewels, she still thought that Maia should've taken the blame. That thought alone washed away any lingering guilt Sandra had ever felt toward her. "Let me remind you of your place, Maia. You're not one of us. You were only raised by us -- nothing more. That keepsake from Vicki? It was always meant for a true Morgan. Even if it were still around, Rosanna would have every right to it. Who do you think you are to lay claim to it? If she wanted to burn it, that would still be her right." A stabbing pain twisted in Maia's chest. She could sever ties with every Morgan in that house -- but not with Vicki. That woman had loved her, protected her, and made her feel like she belonged. And now Maia had failed to guard the one thing that still connected them. The ache in her heart deepened, sharp and unrelenting. From the sidelines, Jarrod let out a cruel laugh. "So that's why you flipped out over some garbage. Let me guess -- you're broke, and you came crawling back here to pawn whatever you could find!" Though he had once seen the bracelet, it looked cheap to him. He never imagined that it held any real value. With a sneer, he pulled a few bills from his wallet and tossed them at her feet. "This enough for your little trinket? Take the rest -- it's on me. Consider it charity." Maia's eyes burned with anger, rimmed red as she stared down the people she once called family. There had been a time she believed she owed them gratitude. After all, they'd raised her for seventeen years. That belief had led her to help them through their darkest years, without hesitation. But now? That illusion had shattered. What was taken from her -- she would get back. And the Morgans? They had chosen cruelty. It was time they learned that she didn't forgive and forget. Maia let her anger subside. She took the cash Jarrod threw and smiled. Without hesitation, she shredded the money into pieces and threw them straight at his face. "Keep your filthy money. I'd rather have nothing than take anything from you." With that, she turned and walked straight out of the villa, not sparing anyone a second glance. Fury twisted Jarrod's face as he clenched his jaw, burning with humiliation. His finger jabbed toward Maia's back as she disappeared through the doorway. "You'll regret this, you ungrateful bitch! Without us, you're nothing! You'll come crawling back -- I'll make sure of it!" Sandra's face flushed red with anger, her voice rising. "We picked you up from prison this morning, Maia! That was out of the goodness of our hearts! No one forced you to walk away -- you did that yourself. Don't bother returning once you leave. You made your choice. It ends here!" A cold, humorless laugh escaped Maia's lips. Even now, Sandra clung to the story that made her look like the victim. Her audacity was almost laughable. Turning slowly on her heel, Maia leveled the family with a chilling stare. "Drop the act. You're not fooling anyone. You called the press yourselves. Was that supposed to be a warm welcome? Or just a performance to make yourselves look like saints in front of the cameras? You know exactly what you were doing." And with that, she walked away, never once turning back. Behind her, the illusion shattered, leaving the Morgans standing stiff and speechless. Their masks had cracked wide open. Rosanna buried her face in Sandra's shoulder, voice trembling with tears. "This is all my fault. we could've been a real family." Instead of reflecting, Jarrod and Sandra focused on comforting Rosanna, acting like Maia didn't exist. Chapter 5 I Just Wanted To Make Sure You Were Alright Not a minute after stepping out of the Morgan estate, Maia pulled out her phone and made a single call. "Cut off all dealings with the Morgan family. Effective immediately." The call ended, and she slid the phone back into her coat pocket, turning around to give the house behind her one last, lingering look. That place no longer felt familiar. It might as well have belonged to a different lifetime. Everything that tied her to the Morgans was over. From here on, there would be no turning back. Drawing in a slow breath, Maia gathered herself. But just as she turned to walk away, she collided hard into a solid figure. The sudden impact made her stumble, but before she could fall, a hand reached out and caught her firmly by the arm. "Maia?" a deep voice asked. Her head tilted up, and for a rare moment, emotion flickered across her usually unreadable gaze. She hadn't thought her heart could still react like that. Yet somehow, it skipped more than just a beat. Of all people, it was Vince Ward standing in front of her -- the son of Wront's powerful Ward family, her ex-fiancé. Out of instinct, she yanked her arm free and put a few paces of space between them. Vince's brows tightened ever so slightly as he took in her cold, unreadable face. The woman standing there hardly resembled the bright, cheerful girl from the Morgan family Maia used to be. "You... came back," he said softly, choosing his words with care. He didn't say "got out" -- perhaps to spare her dignity -- but the gesture only made her chest tighten with disdain. There had been a time when she loved him out loud, without shame. She had spoiled him, learned to cook just to see him smile, done everything to win his affection. But he had never given her more than silence. He never once claimed her in public, never called her his. Still, she held a firm belief, convinced that kindness would melt the wall he kept so firmly built. And yet, on the day her world collapsed -- when she was framed and wrongly accused -- he stood right there. But he had stood by Rosanna's side, and the disgust and warning in his eyes matched those of the Morgans perfectly. Not a single word of defense had come from Vince when she needed it most. Years ago, it was Rosanna's grandfather who had pulled Vince's father from the wreckage of an accident. That one act of heroism had sealed a marriage promise between two families. Back then, the Morgan family's daughter had been Maia. Now, the daughter was Rosanna. Naturally, the arrangement had fallen onto Rosanna. So Vince siding with Rosanna wasn't surprising -- it was expected. But even now, whenever Maia thought back on it, a soft ache tugged at her heart. She tucked that pain away behind a polite smile, lifting her chin. "You must be here for Rosanna, Mr. Ward. I hear the engagement's coming up. Congratulations." She used to call him "Vince" with warmth, and now, being addressed so formally made him realize that the gap between them had been wider. Something twisted in Vince's chest, sudden and sharp. He stared at her, his voice rough around the edges. "Four years, Maia... and that's all you've got to say?" Back then, Maia would talk his ear off whenever she was near. Now, all he felt from her was a chill and a wall he couldn't get past. Her silence made his frown deepen, the quiet stretching too long. After a beat, he nodded toward the Morgan family villa behind her. "I heard your family came to pick you up today. Why are you already walking away?" Maia replied, "That's none of your business." Though her tone was cool, her eyes -- bright and guarded -- flickered with something unspoken. Those words struck Vince harder than he expected. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright." A bitter laugh escaped Maia's lips. "Seems like your concern's pointed in the wrong direction, Mr. Ward. Shouldn't it be aimed at your girlfriend? You're nearly engaged, aren't you? Imagine Rosanna catching you circling around me -- how do you think she'd take that? So, is the plan now to turn your back on the real Morgan daughter just to chase after someone like me -- a woman branded by a criminal past?" No words followed from Vince. There was just silence -- the same kind that had cut through her four years ago. Maia let out a sharp, humorless snort. "Why don't you do us both a favor and stay out of my sight, Mr. Ward?" But Vince's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist before she could take another step. He held on, refusing to let go. His voice dropped to a hush, rough with emotion. His eyes were turning red. "Maia, it's true. Rosanna and I are getting engaged. But things don't have to be any different -- if you're willing, we could still go back to the way things were." &12&

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