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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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---Chapter 1 The Awakening He drew in a sharp breath. Half asleep, Julian Vance felt warm breath tickling his ear, the tingling sensation sending an involuntary rush of heat through his body. He jolted in shock. His eyes snapped open. Sure enough, it was the girl from last night. She was draped over him, gazing down with a hazy look in her eyes. Her beautiful face still carried a trace of last night's intoxication. This isn't a dream. I really am back from the dead. That was the first thought that crossed Julian's mind. He only remembered scaling Mount Everest when Serena sneaked up, unhooked his safety harness, and shoved him off the cliff. Serena Quinn, his fiancée. She was the untouchable beauty of the financial world. I still don't get it. We are about to get married. I am ready to hand over the billions I bust my *ss for all my life. Why does she want to kill me? As the founder of Vance Capital, I am worth billions, known as the ultimate good guy in the industry. Marrying me is a jackpot, isn't it? While Julian was racking his brain, a soft moan broke his train of thought, followed by the press of smooth, soft skin. The girl actually took the initiative, wrapping her limbs around him. Catching her seductive expression and the overflowing desire in her unfocused eyes... Julian threw his restraint out the window and pulled her fiercely into his arms. Time faded away. An hour later. The girl finally drifted into a deep sleep, a satisfied smile on her lips. Julian checked the time. It was only three in the morning. They had already gone at it multiple times last night! Her stamina is off the charts. Studying that gorgeous, delicate face, Julian felt a bit puzzled. Does a stunner like her really need to go out looking for a thrill? If she just nods, countless guys will line up to be her lapdogs. Recalling the bone-deep pleasure from moments ago, Julian sighed. In his past life, he played the good guy and barely touched any women, so that sensation was a total first for him! Hitting the jackpot on day one of my second life. Guess the man upstairs is looking out for me. Pulling her near-perfect body into his embrace, Julian curled his lips into a smile and finally fell asleep. Morning soon arrived. "Ah!!!" Early the next morning, a piercing scream echoed through Cupid's Arrow Motel. The shriek was loud enough to wake the dead, jolting Julian from his sleep. Julian opened his eyes to see the girl from last night staring at him, pale and completely freaked out. She clutched the blanket tight, wrapping herself up like a burrito! "Who... who are you?! "How... how did I get here?!" "Look, gorgeous, you came onto me last night, and you made the first move in bed... Don't tell me you blacked out." Julian was lost for words. He was just having a drink at Subzero Bar last night when she slid into the seat across from him. Sure, she had a few too many, but she definitely initiated things! Later on, she was all over him, hands roaming everywhere. Otherwise, with his self-control, there was no way he'd just bring a random girl to a motel! "I came onto you?" Her face dropped further at Julian's words, her brows furrowing as she racked her brain. As snippets of the night before started coming back to her, all the color drained from her face and she froze like a statue. Seeing her blank stare, Julian shook his head in defeat, lighting a cigarette and hanging it between his lips. After a long pause, she snapped out of her daze, her expression returning to an icy calm. She looked up at Julian, totally deadpan. "Turn around." "What?" Julian blinked in confusion. Her expression grew even colder. "I need to get dressed. Turn around!" "I've already seen everything, what's there to... alright, alright, turning around." Before he could finish, a death glare cut him off, leaving Julian no choice but to face the wall. A few minutes later. Fully dressed, the girl grabbed her purse and headed straight for the door. Right at the threshold, something clicked. She spun around, locking her icy gaze on Julian, her voice freezing. "We have absolutely nothing to do with each other from now on! "And I don't want a single soul finding out about last night!" Dropping that bomb, she walked out without giving Julian a chance to respond. "D*mn, quite the switch from begging to rip my clothes off last night... She really is gonna act like nothing happened afterward." Julian stood up, rolling his eyes as he put his clothes back on. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a crimson stain on the bedsheets, his gaze sharpening as he froze in his tracks. "Holy sh*t?! "How... how is that possible?!?" Chapter 2 The Campus Queens Unable to figure out what had actually gone down, Julian pushed the girl out of his mind and walked out of the motel. Looking at Lincoln College of Finance just down the block, Julian finally accepted the hard truth: he had time-slipped back to the past. Strolling through the familiar campus, taking in the young faces and the raw teenage hormones in the air, Julian felt a wave of nostalgia. He never thought he'd end up back here after all these years. To all the hot professors and campus queens from back in the day, I wonder how you're doing... "Hey! Julian!" A voice called out from nearby, making Julian look up. Two girls were standing a few feet away. The one in front was rocking a white dress. She had fair skin, hair cascading down her shoulders, and a stunning, delicate face. Topped off with light makeup, she was a total knockout to the average college guy. Spotting her, Julian stopped dead in his tracks. Memories came flooding back. In his past life, he had only ever chased two women. One he chased for all four years of college, only to be strung along with the excuse, "I'm not looking to date in college." He had thought true love would win her over. But on graduation day, she hopped right into a middle-aged sugar daddy's BMW! The other was Serena Quinn, the untouchable beauty he met only after grinding through hell to build Vance Capital. It was that seemingly innocent girl who made him believe in love again. But it blew his mind. Right when he trusted her the most, she pushed him off a cliff! Good guys finish first? What a load of absolute bullsh*t. Julian looked at the pretty girl in the white dress, scoffing on the inside. That's right. This is Chloe Jenkins, the department beauty I wasted four years simping over! "Julian, I might have been a bit harsh the other day, but I'm really not ready for a relationship right now." Chloe walked up to him, glancing at the guy who supposedly skipped class for two days because of her rejection, and spoke coolly. "But it's my birthday tonight, and you can totally swing by my party..." A birthday party? The old Julian would have been over the moon hearing that, bouncing back in a heartbeat! Then he would've run off like a good little lapdog to buy her a present. Too bad the current Julian was a completely different beast. Hearing Chloe's words, Julian found it almost comical. He remembered how it went down in his past life. She pulled this exact same stunt, keeping him on the hook without saying yes or no, tossing him breadcrumbs of hope, ,aking him waste four golden college years on her! And draining not just his time, but over half of his allowance and all the hard-earned cash from his part-time gigs! Dining out. Phones. Clothes. And all sorts of high-end makeup. He poured everything into her. Yet in four years, he barely even got to hold her hand. Then, on graduation day, she didn't bat an eye before riding shotgun in some rich guy's BMW! That was the day he finally snapped out of it and started his grind... "Hey, Julian!" Seeing Julian spacing out, Nina Lewis lost her patience. "Are you deaf? Chloe's having her party at Le Cordon Restaurant tonight. Don't forget to bring a gift!" A gift? Classic. Julian smirked, knowing Chloe was a total gold digger, and gave a brief nod. "That's more like it." Seeing him agree, Nina muttered under her breath before leaning in close to whisper, "Chloe's been dying for a new iPhone lately. It's all on you now..." With that, she dragged Chloe off toward the lecture hall. An iPhone? Julian paused. Right then, the memories of his past life rushed into his brain like a high-def movie! Wait, what is going on?! Am I watching a movie? Julian stood frozen, experiencing the crystal-clear video playback in his head. Even... Even every dirty detail of him and Serena in bed was in 4K resolution! Every look of pure bliss. Every twitch and shiver of her body. Even those soul-stirring moans... Holy crap, is this the perk of getting a second chance? He inhaled sharply. Feeling his teenage hormones kicking into overdrive, Julian took a deep breath! He quickly shoved his hands in his pockets to adjust himself... Connecting the dots between the iPhone and the birthday party, Julian locked it in: he had slipped back to 2012. He was a sophomore at Lincoln College of Finance. He was currently chasing Chloe like a madman. Today was Chloe's birthday. In his past life, on this exact day. He scraped together every penny, even dipping into his next few months of living expenses, just to buy her an iPhone 4S. But at the party, she threw a fit because it wasn't the latest iPhone 5. Chloe even accepted an iPhone 5 from a rich kid right in front of him. And then gave him the cold shoulder for months. She only talked to him again on Christmas, after he busted his hump to buy her a luxury makeup set. Man, I was the ultimate simp! Julian wanted to facepalm just thinking about his old self. "Look, it's Julian, the hopeless romantic!" "Hopeless romantic my foot, he's just a lapdog... Hehe, look at him, panting like a stray. So pathetic..." "Hey, you gotta admit, the simp is pretty cute though..." A group of girls walked past, gossiping about him. Julian snapped back to reality, wanting to cry after hearing their chatter. Is this really how everyone saw me back then? "Heh, playing the good guy really is a dog's game!" Thinking back on his pathetic past life, Julian wanted to smack himself. "Screw it, since I've got a second chance, I am not wasting this life like the last one! "A birthday gift, huh?" Thinking about Chloe's party tonight, a mischievous smirk played on Julian's lips. Just then, the gossiping girls caught sight of someone approaching and scurried off in a panic. "Oh snap, it's Evelyn Harper, let's get out of here..." Down by the library, a breathtakingly elegant figure strolled their way. Standing tall at five-foot-seven. Wearing a simple white dress. Fair, slender legs and hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her skin was pale as snow, her flawless face exuding an untouchable, frosty aura. She gave off a vibe that screamed "look but don't touch", making anyone near her feel hopelessly out of their league. Compared to Chloe, she was on a completely different planet in both looks and class. The student council president, universally crowned the top campus queen of Lincoln College. Evelyn Harper. But seeing this college goddess, Julian dropped his jaw. "Huh? General Manager Harper?"

Kieran’s fist slammed against the doorframe, eyes burning with possessive fury. 'Did he sleep here?' The demand ripped through the air, thick with unspoken violence. I met his glare, a thrill sparking where fear used to live. 'Need a dictionary, *ex-husband*?' I hissed, stepping closer, letting the scent of his rage wash over me. 'Divorced means you lost the right to tear my clothes off searching for another man’s scent.' His growl vibrated in my bones as he crowded me against the wall. 'My son lives here.' 'So flaunt Celeste to him, but *I* belong to no Alpha now,' I snarled, biting my lip as his knuckles grazed my throat. 'Not even you.' The raw hunger in his eyes promised punishment. The kind that leaves bruises... and bruises. --------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1 THE MISTAKE SERAPHINA'S POV "Seraphina!" I jolted awake in bed, hearing my name from the urgency in my mother's voice on the phone. Her voice trembled through the phone, sharp and brittle. "Mom?" My throat was raw. She hadn't reached out in ten years—not unless it was the worst kind of news. "Your father—" Her breath hitched, then broke. "He's been attacked." My stomach clenched. Ice-cold fear gripped me. "What?!" "Oh, Sera, he's barely clinging to life!" my mother sobbed brokenly. I immediately threw the covers off me and jumped out of bed. "Send me the hospital address," I said in a shaky voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can." I tried not to make too much noise as I rushed down the stairs so I wouldn't wake my son, Daniel. The light underneath my husband, Kieran's, office told me he was still up. As Alpha of the pack, he always had too much to handle. And if I were honest with myself—too much resentment toward me. A decade-old mistake had bound us together. A mistake he'd never forgiven. So, I didn't plan to bother him. By the time I slid into the driver's seat, tears streaked down my face. My father had always been invincible. Unshakable. The giant of my heart, even if he'd never wanted me as his daughter. Even if he'd hated me. But I never imagined he could be taken from me like this— I slammed my foot on the accelerator. When I reached the hospital, my mother and brother sat like shadows outside the operating room. My chest tightened. Would the giant really fall? I hesitated. I couldn't bring myself to step closer. Not when their disgust had exiled me long ago. After that night ten years ago, they'd erased me. To the world, they had only one daughter now—Celeste. Should I even be here? It had been ten years since we last spoke. Even after Daniel was born, all communication with the family had gone through Kieran. My father had made it clear—he never wanted to see my face again. Would he really want to see me now? What if he didn't? What if his resentment hadn't faded? I hesitated, my pulse pounding in my ears—until the sharp swish of the operating room doors cut through my thoughts. The doctor walked out, pulling gloves off his fingers. "Doctor!" I rushed forward before I could stop myself, my voice shaking. "How is my father?" The grim expression on his face said it all. "I'm sorry. We did all we could... but his injuries were far too severe." I pressed a hand to my mouth, choking back the sob clawing up my throat. "Is he... gone?" Ethan, my brother, barely glanced at me before addressing the doctor, his voice rough. "Not yet." The man shook his head slowly. "But he won't last the night. He's been asking for his daughter." I took an instinctive step forward—then froze. His daughter. It couldn't be me. After ten years of indifference and resentment, the daughter my dying father wanted to see would never be me. Ethan's laugh was ice. "Ten years, and our family is still paying for your mistakes!" I turned to face him, tears streaking my cheeks. A decade since I'd last stood this close—since he'd looked at me. Time had sharpened him into a true Alpha: broader shoulders, harder jaw, a dominance that rolled off him in waves. But the hatred in his eyes? That hadn't changed. My heart gave a vicious twist, like claws raking flesh. "Because of you," he snarled at me, "Celeste moved away. Because of you, she can't be here. Because of you, Dad will die with his last wish unfulfilled." "Yes, it's all my fault." My laugh was bitter, weighted with decades of pain. "After all these years, I'm still the first one blamed. No one cares about the truth—or how I feel!" Tears burst forth, my outburst freezing Ethan for a heartbeat. But just as quickly, his voice turned razor-sharp: "Your feelings? You stole your sister's fiancé and dare to talk about feelings?" My nails dug deep into my palms, reopening that ugly old scar. Ten years ago, at the Blood Moon Hunt, I'd just turned twenty—the age when every werewolf finds their mate. After a lifetime of being overlooked, I'd been desperate for that bond. As a child, I'd foolishly dreamed it might be Kieran. But then he fell for Celeste—perfect, radiant Celeste, the darling of the entire Frostbane Pack—and I learned my place soon enough. What was I? The Alpha's defective daughter, the one who couldn't even shift. Nothing. When even my own family and pack barely spared me a glance, how could Kieran possibly want me? I never expected to change anything. But that night, when I heard about his impending engagement to Celeste, the pain cut deeper than any claw. For the first time, I let myself drown in drink. I expected to wake up forgotten in some dark corner. Never did I imagine I'd find myself naked in Kieran's bed. The liquor had burned through my senses. That night remained a haze of fractured memories. Before I could piece together what happened, Celeste burst in—her shriek slicing through the air as she took in the scene. Then came the chaos: Celeste's hysterical sobs, Kieran's guilt-ridden apologies, the pack's venomous whispers, my stammered explanations—all silenced by my father's resounding slap across my face. "I regret ever bringing you into this world!" The aftermath played out in muted horror. Kieran carrying Celeste's unconscious form to the infirmary. Ethan snarling at gawking packmates. My mother's muffled weeping. And Father's eyes—Gods—that look of pure revulsion. I'd always known he despised me, but never with such intensity it stole the breath from my lungs. "I didn't..." My whisper died unheard. No one listened. No one. Overnight, I became the pack's favorite sin to punish. Where they'd once mocked my defective shifting, now they spat "whore" like a benediction. Even low-ranking Omegas cornered me in shadowed corridors, their hands and insults alike too bold. Females crossed themselves when I passed, hissing "husband-thief" like a curse. The weight of it crushed me. When Celeste's admirers left death threats carved into my door, I gathered what little I owned and fled under a new moon. I intended to vanish forever... until the morning sickness began. Until the physician announced my pregnancy to the entire Blood Council. That was the only reason Kieran married me. He was an honorable man, an Alpha who would never desert his heir. Yet it tore my family apart. My parents and brother hated me for breaking Celeste's heart. Kieran's pack, NightFang, loathed me because I was not the Luna they wanted. And Celeste was so enraged, she moved abroad. "You ruined everything!" Ethan's accusing voice cut through my thoughts. The venom in his glare cut deep. Undiluted after a decade. Blood may have made us siblings, but Ethan had never once treated me as his sister. Celeste was the only sister he cherished. He loathed me for driving her away. But was it truly all my fault? I may be weak and ordinary, but never so vile as to deliberately seduce my sister's lover. Yet they never cared. They just needed someone to blame. "See this?" My hands trembled, but my voice hardened like winter frost. "My voice was never heard. My existence never mattered. So tell me, Mom—" I turned to face her, throat constricted. "If you never wanted me, why didn't you just smother me in my cradle? Why pretend I still mattered enough to call me here?" "How dare you speak to Mom like that?!" Ethan roared, his canines lengthening. "Marrying Kieran didn't magically make you Luna material. That title was always meant for Celeste!" "I never asked for any of this!" I snarled back, bitterness filling my tone. "I was ready to disappear. You could have let Celeste and Kieran have their perfect mating ceremony and pretended I never existed!" Ethan's lips curled mockingly. "Don't play the martyr," he sneered. "You knew damn well Kieran would never abandon his pup—" "Ethan!" Mother's command carried the faintest echo of her former Luna authority, though her scent now held only exhaustion and grief. "Enough. We will not waste your father's final moments on this old blood feud." She couldn't even look at me as she said, "Go see your father." Her gaze darted away like the sight of me pained her. Ethan shot me one last venomous glare before slumping into a chair. Steeling myself, I pushed open the door. The fear nearly choked me—fear of seeing that familiar disappointment in his eyes one last time. But when I saw him lying there, the man I'd spent my life both fearing and longing to please... Gone was the towering figure of my nightmares. The father who'd once seemed invincible now lay motionless, his chest swathed in bandages, his face ashen. The eyes that had always burned with contempt when they looked at me... now held nothing at all. Tears streamed down my face. Why did this hurt so much? This man—this giant who'd hated me from the moment I presented as a wolfless. Who'd looked at Celeste with pride and me with shame. The memory of our last meeting still clawed at my heart. There had been no wedding for Kieran and me. No celebration. Only my father's iron grip forcing my hand to scrawl my name on the marriage paper. "Now you've gotten what you wanted," he'd snarled, his Alpha power choking the air between us. "From this day forward, you are no daughter of mine." I'd never wept so violently—never begged so desperately. But all I earned was the frozen line of his back and his final, venomous curse: "Your birth was a mistake, Seraphina. Dare to show your face again, and I swear you'll never know another moment of happiness." He kept his promise. His curse had poisoned every moment of my life, while my "honorable" husband turned our marriage into a gilded cage with his endless silence and contempt. I should have hated them all—this family, this fate. But when my father's fingers twitched weakly on the sheets, my traitorous heart lurched. Before I could think, I was at his side, clutching his ice-cold hand. "Dad?" My voice trembled with something dangerously close to hope. His pale lips parted slightly, as if struggling to form words. But before he could speak— BEEEP—! The heart monitor screamed. The line on the screen flattened. "NO!" The cry tore from my throat. He couldn't leave—not like this. Not before I saw forgiveness in his eyes. Not before we could unravel the knots binding our hearts. The door burst open. Ethan and Mother shoved me aside, sending me crashing to the floor. "He's gone..." Mother collapsed against Ethan, her body wracked with violent sobs. "My mate... my Alpha...!" Ethan's grief choked him silently—until his gaze locked onto me. His wolf was on the surface, teeth bared. I didn't doubt for a second he'd rip my throat out. Until Mother caught his arm. "You viper," he hissed. "Whatever scrap of happiness you've clung to—I'll rip it from you." A hollow laugh echoed through my mind. Why were they all so obsessed with stealing my happiness? Something I'd never had. The doctor entered, murmuring to my mother, "Luna, we must prepare Alpha Edward's remains." I numbly walked into the hall, my soul scraped raw, tears falling unchecked. As the pack's elite arrived, none acknowledged me—just as it had always been. But their indifference barely influenced me now. I stood numb before the chamber holding Father's body, still unable to grasp the truth that he would never open his eyes to us again— Until Kieran's voice cut through the silence. "My deepest condolences, Margaret." He took my mother's hands, every inch the dutiful son-in-law. "Rest assured, I'll assist Ethan with every arrangement." Moonlight from the windows gilded his broad shoulders, the silver streaks at his temples only heightening the aura of a prime Alpha in his prime. Not a hair out of place despite the midnight summons. The deadliest Alpha of the NightFang Pack. Just his presence was enough to control the air. "Your presence comforts me, Kieran," Mother wept, clutching his arm. When he embraced her, those piercing dark eyes found mine over her shoulder—then flicked away as if spotting a stain on the wall. "What exactly happened?" he asked as he turned to Ethan. "How could Edward get attacked?" Ethan's jaw clenched. "Routine border patrol. But the bastard rogues came in numbers we've never seen—armed with silver weapons." His throat worked as he fought for control. "It was an ambush. Father never stood a chance." My mother's renewed sobs filled the corridor. Kieran gripped Ethan's shoulder— "The rogues will pay for this," he vowed. I hovered at the periphery, an outsider in my own family's tragedy. The three of them—Mother, Ethan, and Kieran—stood united in their grief, an unbreakable circle I couldn't penetrate. "I've sent for Celeste," Ethan added suddenly. "She should be arriving soon." "Oh, my poor girl!" Mother wept into her hands. "To miss her father's final moments..." My gaze flickered unbidden to Kieran's face. Our eyes locked again. His expression remained unreadable—arctic, assessing, utterly devoid of warmth. Ten years sharing a bed, yet he still felt galaxies away. I'd never touched his heart. And now, with Celeste's return, a terrible truth crushed my chest like an iron weight: I was about to lose my second family. If my wolf lived within me, she would have whined low in her throat. I didn't know if I could survive the coming storm—but one thing burned brighter than fear: No matter what arrived, no one would take my son from me. No one. Chapter 2 COLD AND EMPTY SERAPHINA'S POV The fragile silence was shattered as a piercing cry echoed down the sterile hallway. "Papa! Where are you?" Every head turned in unison. My stomach plummeted as Celeste came into view—her golden hair whipping behind her, cheeks flushed from running. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, but her beauty remained utterly breathtaking. After ten years, my sister's sudden appearance struck me like a physical blow. I almost instinctively turned to Kieran, whose mouth had fallen open, staring at Celeste like she was a dream he was scared to wake up from. The raw longing in his eyes was enough to answer the question that had haunted me for a decade: his heart had never been mine. "Tell me I'm not too late," Celeste begged, her voice breaking. When no one answered immediately, her knees buckled. Kieran moved faster than any werewolf had a right to. He caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her against his chest as my mother and brother descended into the huddle. Their tangled limbs and shared sobs painted the perfect family portrait—one I'd never been part of. The thought clawed at my throat. I'd lost my father too. Didn't I deserve to mourn? But this was Celeste's world. It always had been. From the moment she'd taken her first steps, everyone had watched her, admired her, loved her. As Celeste shone, I became a shadow. And now, as her whimpers filled the room, I might as well have been invisible. The exit beckoned. Better to leave with what little dignity remained than wait for their inevitable rejection. Not a single head turned as I slipped away. My tears had dried by the time I reached home, leaving salt tracks on my cheeks. But the hollow ache in my chest? That felt like it would linger forever. My first stop was Daniel's room to check up on him. I was surprised to see light under his door, and when I pushed it open, I found my nine-year-old curled into himself, knees drawn to his chest like a tiny fortress against the world. "Mommy?" His voice was too small, too knowing. I perched on the edge of his racecar bed. "Sweetheart, why are you up?" He worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Something's wrong with Grandpa Edward, right?" The air left my lungs. How did I tell this bright-eyed boy that the man who'd taught him to track deer just last summer was gone? I smoothed his pajama-covered knee. "Honey, there was... an incident tonight. Grandpa got hurt—" "He died." Daniel's whisper held an eerie certainty. "Our bond... it broke." My hand stilled. At nine, he shouldn't have been able to feel the pack bonds severing. Yet here he was, demonstrating the very wolf-sensitivity I'd spent his lifetime praying he'd inherit. Relief warred with awe—he wouldn't be like me. Wouldn't bear the shame of being the Alpha's defective child, a werewolf whose wolf never manifested. "Come here, my brave boy." I gathered him close, breathing in his scent of maple syrup and childish sweat. However much I regretted that disastrous Blood Moon Hunt, I'd never regret the miracle it gave me. Daniel was the one pure thing in my life—the only heart that loved me without conditions. As I tucked the spaceship-patterned blanket around his shoulders, he turned those soulful eyes on me—Kieran's eyes in miniature. "You and Daddy will always be here, right?" The question lanced through me. I feathered my fingers through his hair, just like I had when he was a baby fighting sleep. "Oh, my love..." How could I explain that his father had never truly been mine to keep? That the way Kieran had looked at Celeste tonight—like the sun had risen after a decade of darkness—was a look he'd never once given me? That their embrace in the hospital corridor had been more intimate than any he and I had shared in ten years of marriage? "Mommy's not going anywhere," I promised, pressing a kiss to his furrowed brow. "Your daddy and I love you more than anything," I whispered. "Nothing will ever change that." His sleepy smile gutted me. "Night, Mommy." "Sweet dreams, my heart." I kissed his forehead, lingering a moment too long before slipping out. The kitchen's fluorescent lights buzzed as I rummaged through the fridge. Glass bottles clinked—then froze mid-reach at the sound of the front door. Kieran. Home already. I'd expected him to stay all night at the hospital, comforting her. Reconnecting with her. He moved through the darkened house like a shadow, his broad shoulders filling the kitchen doorway. Moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face as his gaze swept over me—empty. Always empty. The refrigerator hummed between us as he reached past my shoulder. His cedar-and-rain scent enveloped me for one treacherous heartbeat before he withdrew, cracking open a water bottle. "Did you... want something to eat?" My voice sounded too small in the silence. "You missed dinner." Nothing. Just the working of his throat as he drank, the corded muscles flexing beneath stubble I'd never been allowed to touch. The crushed plastic hitting the recycling bin made me flinch. He braced himself against the countertop, head bowed like Atlas bearing the world. I knew this dance by heart—ten years of speaking to a ghost. "I'll just..." I edged toward the doorway. "Seraphina." My name in his mouth was always a shock. Like being doused in ice water. I turned slowly. Moonlight carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to talk." The quiet words sent a bolt of dread through me. His grip on the counter turned his knuckles bone-white. No preamble. No softening. Just Kieran's brutal efficiency, as always. "I want a divorce." Ten years. Ten years I'd waited for this axe to fall. Funny how it still cut like a surprise. Chapter 3 ALL I WANT SERAPHINA'S POV The words shouldn't have hurt—not after a decade of waiting for this moment. Yet they sliced through me like silver, the pain radiating from my shattered heart to every nerve ending. I'd always known that Kieran would eventually ask for this. Especially now. Celeste. His first crush. His real love. Back. It didn't matter that I'd loved him since we were children, long before Celeste ever noticed him. It didn't matter that I'd given him a son. The moment she returned, I became invisible—just as I'd always been in his eyes. Celeste was the dazzling diamond, blinding everyone to the plain pebble at her feet. I knew this. So why did it still feel like my soul was being ripped in two? "It's because of Celeste, isn't it?" My voice was eerily calm. I already knew the answer, but some masochistic part of me needed to hear him say it. Needed him to twist the knife deeper. Kieran's eyes flashed—the first real emotion he'd shown me in years. "No," he snapped, jaw clenched. "Of course not." Liar. He dragged a hand through his dark brown hair, exhaling sharply. "Edward's death just... reminded me life's too short to waste on a mistake." A mistake. I would have preferred the knife. Would have rather he screamed Celeste's name than reduce our marriage—our son—to a regret. I couldn't help but laugh out. The sound was jagged, hysterical, tearing from my throat as Kieran stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had. I laughed because the alternative was screaming. My gaze traced the lines of this man I knew yet didn't know at all, this stranger I'd loved for eighteen years who had never truly seen me. Who was more pitiable—him or me? He loved Celeste, yet honor and a single mistake had chained him to a marriage he never wanted. What had these ten years given us? If not for that night, if we hadn't been forced into this loveless union, would his eyes have held even a flicker of warmth for me? We were never meant to be like this. Even though I could never regret Daniel, I'd meant it that night—I'd been ready to vanish. I should have run farther. Should never have stepped into that clinic, never let them know about the pregnancy. I'd told myself staying, enduring, was for Daniel's sake. But now, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. What kind of life had I given him, with parents whose hearts were oceans apart? While Celeste was gone, Kieran had played the part of a dutiful father. But now she was back, and the fragile facade of our marriage would shatter. I won't let my son watch his mother become a laughingstock. "Fine," I said at last, the laughter dying on my lips. Kieran's brows lifted. Had he expected tears? Begging? Had he wanted to see me break? Too bad. My entire life, people had hungered for my surrender. But I refused to give them another ounce of my pain. When I walked away from this marriage, I would take only two things: My dignity. And my son. "I want full custody of Daniel." His shock morphed into fury. "The hell you will! He's my son!" "And mine!" I snarled back. "You can't take the pack's heir from his Alpha!" Kieran's voice shook with barely leashed rage. "And you can't take a mother's heart from her chest!" My hands trembled, but my voice didn't waver. "I don't want your money. Your property. Anything. Just my son." Daniel was my only light in this wretched world. If Kieran took him from me... I wouldn't survive it. "And most importantly... You and Celeste will have new children." The words stole the breath from my lungs. Just the thought of it—of her giving him the pups I never could—made my chest ache like a fresh wound. But for Daniel, I would endure anything. Even this. I watched Kieran closely, his expression unreadable in the dim kitchen light. Finally, he gave a single stiff nod. "Fine. You can have full custody." The catch. He agreed so easily. Not a single denial. Not one word to contradict what I'd said about him and Celeste. He still preferred a family with her, didn't he? And the most pathetic part? Some foolish, desperate corner of my heart had still hoped. Still waited for him to say something—anything—to prove our marriage hadn't been just a prison sentence to him. I pressed my palms to my stinging eyes. Gods, what was wrong with me? I couldn't afford to hope anymore. Not tonight. If I didn't leave here soon, I'd collapse right here on the cold tiles— Then Kieran caught my wrist. He cleared his throat awkwardly, his grip warm against my skin. "We can wait until after the funeral to finalize everything, if you prefer." For one dangerous moment, I almost believed him. Almost thought this was kindness. If only he'd shown me this consideration once in ten years. I wrenched my arm free. "No need to delay. It's not like there's much to dissolve—you never even gave me a mating mark." The one thing he'd refused when we married. That, and loving me. "Your wolf never came," he'd said that night we got married, his voice carefully blank. "A mating bond would only cause you pain when..." When we inevitably divorced. He hadn't finished the sentence, but we both knew. Just like we both knew the real reason—the mark belonged to Celeste in his mind. Always had. The bitter truth settled in my chest: he'd planned for this ending from the very beginning. What difference did it make now? Whether it was pity or premeditation, the result was the same—my neck remained unmarked, my heart remained broken, and Kieran would walk away free. Kieran's brow furrowed deeper. "Seraphina, there's no need for bitterness. Our marriage was a mistake—I only hope we can both move on." His voice softened, that hint of pity making my stomach churn. "You deserve—" "Oh, spare me." I turned away before he could see how his pity cut me deeper than his anger ever could. "Don't worry—I've saved enough to support myself and Daniel. You'll be free by tomorrow." The shock on his face was almost comical. Had he truly expected me to fight for him? To beg? Yes, I loved him. I still do. But ten years of trying to thaw his heart had taught me this: no amount of warmth could melt a glacier that didn't want to be moved. And now that Celeste was back? Did he think I'd delude myself into believing I ever stood a chance? Why crush what's left of my pride just to feed an Alpha's ego? I'd learned my lesson. A decade in this loveless marriage had been enough. I was done fighting for people who never wanted me. My steps were numb as I climbed the stairs, memories of Kieran flashing like ghosts behind my eyes: *The bright smile he'd given me when we first met as children. *Me watching from the shadows when he won his first Hunt. *The way my heart shattered as he placed the victory garland on Celeste's head, her lips meeting his in a sweet kiss. *The blur of liquor glasses when their engagement was announced. *That catastrophic night that started it all. *Then—Daniel's birth, his first steps, every milestone since... Halfway up the staircase, Daniel's sleepy voice echoed in my mind: "You and Dad will always be here, right?" My heart lurched. Gods. How do we tell him? I whirled around, my earlier resolve cracking. "How... how do we explain this to Daniel?" Kieran paused mid-sip of water. "I'll handle it." Of course. He's already planned for this, too. My fists clenched. "And you needn't worry about finances," he added stiffly. "Daniel is still my son. I'll cover his expenses—and yours." I couldn't read his expression. After ten years, the view I knew best was still his poker face. But this time, I refused to waste energy deciphering him. Tomorrow, once the papers were signed, we'd be strangers. As he wished. I turned without answering. The bedroom door clicked shut behind me—then the dam broke. Silent sobs wracked my body as I slid to the floor, the day's grief finally overwhelming me. Somewhere downstairs, the floorboards creaked. Kieran was probably already packing. Probably already picturing Celeste in this house, raising my son. My hand flew to my unmarked throat—where his teeth should have been. Where a mating bond should have sealed us together. "It's okay, Sera," I whispered into the hollow dark, arms wrapped tight around my shaking ribs. "You'll survive this." For my son—I'll survive anything. Chapter 4 WHERE'S THE FIRE? SERAPHINA'S POV I returned from the lawyer's office feeling like my soul had been put through a shredder. Walking through the front door gave me a strange kind of anxiety. Maybe it was because I knew this was one of the last times I would be here again. I let my gaze roam the foyer, taking in every detail—Daniel's baby picture on the mantel, the portrait taken of Kieran when he was ordained Alpha, the picture of Daniel and me on his fifth birthday. There were no pictures of Kieran and me. Shocker. I headed straight for Kieran's study. I had left early that morning, desperate to avoid him, to spare myself a repeat of last night's devastation. I'd also been avoiding Daniel, I think. How could I look into those innocent eyes and explain that his family was breaking apart? My hand paused mid-knock when I saw Daniel itting in a chair in front of Kieran's desk like a visitor. Of course. Alpha Kieran, ever efficient. Last night he'd said he would explain our divorce to Daniel himself, and he'd wasted no time. My heart lodged itself in my throat. I'd missed the conversation, but I would never miss the sight of my son turning to me, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Is it true, Mom?" His voice was small, breaking on the last word. "You and Dad… you're getting divorced?" He was fighting bravely to keep the tears at bay, but the tremor in his words betrayed him. It shattered something deep inside me, leaving me feeling like the worst kind of criminal. He wasn't even ten. How could we force this cruelty upon him? Yet another part of me, a colder, more logical part, whispered a painful truth: Was it better to let him live a lie? To grow up in a home where his parents felt nothing but emptiness for each other? And what happens when Celeste inevitably walks back into Kieran's life? How would I explain that then? "Daniel…" My voice cracked before I could form a complete sentence. All the resolve I'd built on the drive home crumbled to dust. Then, Kieran spoke. His tone was calm, infuriatingly final. "Daniel, this is a decision between adults." "So I just get told, is that it?" Daniel's small hands clenched into fists on his knees. "Grandpa Edward is barely gone, and now you're doing this. Did anyone think about me?" The raw anger in his voice was a physical blow to my chest. But Kieran remained unmoved, his Alpha aura subtly thickening the air. "Son, sometimes things just happen. Learning to accept difficult realities is part of becoming strong. It's a necessary lesson for a future Alpha." It was the voice of the Alpha, not just the father. And for the first time, Daniel didn't submit. He swiped angrily at his eyes, shoved himself out of the chair, and glared at both of us. "Fine! Do whatever you want!" He bolted from the room before I could stop him. I reached out, a desperate attempt to pull him into an embrace, to soothe the hurt, but he dodged my touch with a furious shake of his head. The rejection was a fresh wound, deeper than any Kieran had ever inflicted. Kieran's eyes flicked toward the hallway. "Gavin," he called, his voice low. His loyal Beta appeared instantly at the door. "Ensure Daniel doesn't leave the grounds. Give him space, but watch him." Gavin nodded silently and disappeared. Kieran then turned his focus back to me, the stern Alpha mask still firmly in place, though a flicker of something else—impatience? weariness?—haunted his dark eyes. "So much for explaining it to him gently," I said, my voice thick with accusation I could no longer contain. "He'll understand," Kieran replied, his voice cool. "He just needs time to process it." His gaze dropped, landing on the legal folder I was clutching so tightly my knuckles had turned white. A faint, unreadable emotion passed over his handsome, usually impassive face. "I assume those are the papers?" I nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. "My lawyer drafted the agreement, stating the custody terms." I moved forward and placed the document on the desk. "Everything's clearly outlined—visitation schedules, holidays, education decisions..." Kieran opened the folder and pulled out the documents. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his eyes darted over the pages. "Um, I also met with a realtor she suggested," I continued, clasping my hands before me. "She showed me a lovely house about thirty minutes from here. It's fully furnished—ready to move in—and the mortgage is very reasonable. It's in neutral territory, so you can visit anyt—" "Where's the fire?" I paused, frowning at Kieran. "What?" "I'm the one who asked for a divorce." He dropped the papers on the desk with a scoff."Yet here you are with moving plans and legal documents before the ink's even dry. Were you counting down the days?" The truth burned my tongue—yes, every single one of the 3,600 days we'd been married. But admitting it would only give him more ammunition. I had just seen how Kieran handled Daniel's pain. My son's raw, betrayed face flashed before my eyes. I couldn't risk him being raised under Kieran's cold 'Alpha lessons,' or worse, under Celeste's future influence. Full custody was my only sanctuary. Kieran sneered at my silence, leaning back in his chair. "Leave the address for your new… house," he said, the word dripping with disdain. "I'll be tied up today. My son and I will have dinner, then I'll send him your way, along with your signed copy of the papers." The finality in his voice extinguished my hope of one last family meal. Of course, the great Alpha Kieran wouldn't deign to break bread with his soon-to-be ex-wife. I left Kieran's office, the hole in my chest yawning further. I hadn't been able to sleep last night after the news, so I'd used that time to pack all my belongings. I'd never been given a proper chance to make this place my home, so everything I owned fit into two suitcases. After loading my car with it, instead of driving away, I just sat in the driver's seat. I stared up at the house before me, recalling all my memories. The ones I'd made with Daniel were bright and colorful, filled with love and laughter. But the memories of Kieran were grey, dull, and empty. Every stilted conversation, every withheld touch, every smile he saved for someone else. The shrill ringtone shattered my reverie. My mother's name flashing on the screen sent ice through my veins. Two calls in as many days after a decade of silence? The universe clearly had jokes. "Hi, Mom." I forced cheer into my voice. "How are you holding up?" She bypassed pleasantries like always. "Is it true?" My fingers tightened around the phone. "Is what true?" "That you're finally divorcing Kieran." The breath left my lungs. Of course she knew. Kieran had probably called Celeste last night. "Yes," I ground out between clenched teeth. The sound of my mother's relieved sigh cut deeper than any blade. Actual, gods-damned relief. "It's for the best," she said. "The marriage was a mistake to begin with. This... this is the correction we've all been waiting for." My mouth fell open. A single, betrayed tear slipped free. What kind of mother celebrates her daughter's heartbreak? The answer came swiftly and bitterly—the kind who always wanted her other daughter to win. I hung up without another word and powered off my phone before she could twist the knife further. I don't know how long I sat there, watching the shadows lengthen across the manicured lawn until the dying sun painted the front door orange. Then Daniel emerged. He looked calmer, though his eyes were still puffy. Kieran walked out after him, shouldering a large duffle bag. I frowned. No way that was all Daniel's things. Kieran was making a point—it didn't matter that we moved, Daniel's home was still here. When Daniel saw me waiting, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face before settling into a small, tentative smile. I got out of the car. He ran to me, and I pulled him into a fierce hug. Goddess, it felt good to hold him again. "I said I'd bring him over," Kieran snapped, coming closer. "I'm sorry, I just wanted—" "Is this how it's going to be?" he cut me off. "Your neat lines and separate territories already blurring? Do you even know what you want?" Daniel's small hand tugged at Kieran's sleeve. "Dad… stop." His voice was soft but held a surprising firmness. "You promised. And it's Grandpa's funeral this Saturday. We'll see you then." Kieran's jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone. For a heartbeat, I thought he might argue—but then he exhaled sharply and ruffled Daniel's hair. "Yeah. See you then, champ." His gaze flicked to me, cold and dismissive. "Be good for your mother." He handed the duffle bag to me and went back inside without another word. I swallowed the lump in my throat and loaded the bag in silence. Daniel climbed into the passenger seat without complaint, his too-wise eyes watching me carefully. As I pulled away, I forced myself not to look back—not at the house, not at the life I'd failed to make work. Two minutes into the drive, Daniel rummaged through his backpack and produced a slightly squashed sandwich. "You didn't eat dinner," he said simply, pressing it into my hand. The tears I'd been trying so hard to hold in spilled out. "Daniel..." My voice cracked. "Do you hate me? For this? For taking you away from your dad?" He considered it with a solemnity no nine-year-old should possess. My heart stalled, braced for the blow— "No." He fiddled with his seatbelt. "I know you were sad a lot. Maybe now you can be happy." A sob tore free. The road blurred. His small hand slipped into mine, squeezing tight. "Don't cry, Mom." His whisper was fierce with promise. "You've got me. I'll make you happy." I brought his knuckles to my lips, tasting salt and hope. So what if Kieran never loved me? This remarkable boy did—wholeheartedly, unconditionally—and in that moment, it was enough. More than enough. Chapter 5 THE UNINVITED GUEST SERAPHINA'S POV Another sleepless night. The irony wasn't lost on me—I hadn't shared a bed with Kieran in years, yet the unfamiliar silence of this new house felt louder than any absence. Every time I closed my eyes, the ghosts of what might have been danced behind my lids. Three times I'd crept down the hall to check on Daniel, only to find him curled peacefully under his Star Wars comforter, his breathing deep and even. Thank the moon for small mercies. This modest house might lack the imposing security of the Alpha Manor, but I'd fill every inch with enough love to compensate. When dawn's pale fingers finally pried through my blackout curtains, a lead weight settled in my stomach. Today we'd bury my father. I dressed slowly, each movement weighted with dread. It wasn't grief that paralyzed me—our relationship had died long before his heart stopped beating. No, it was the prospect of facing my family's judgmental stares, of standing across a coffin from Kieran while our divorce papers gathered fresh ink. Ex-husband. The term scraped against my raw nerves. Daniel's door creaked as I pushed it open. My breath caught—there he sat, already dressed in the miniature black suit we'd picked out together, his small fingers deftly maneuvering his Nintendo Switch. "Morning, Mom." He flashed me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Tears pricked my lashes. Where had my baby gone? The boy staring back at me wore Kieran's strong jawline, his piercing gaze. A living reminder of everything I'd lost—and everything I'd gained. "Look at you," I whispered, smoothing his lapel. "All grown up." Sadness shadowed his face, but he steeled himself and put the video game console aside. "Let's go," he whispered, shoulders squaring with forced bravery. But when the old stone church loomed into view, Daniel's courage faltered. His knuckles whitened around the car door handle. "Hey." I cupped his tense shoulder. "Talk to me." When he turned, the unshed tears in his eyes shattered me. "We didn't... we didn't get to say goodbye. Does that mean Grandpa doesn't know we loved him?" The question hit like a silver dagger between my ribs. While my father's absence had become my normal, Daniel had lost his favorite storytelling partner, his secret cookie supplier. I pressed my palm over his thundering heart. "Grandpa's right here, my love." My voice cracked. "And here." I tapped his temple gently. "As long as we remember him, he's never really gone." Daniel exhaled shakily, some of the tension leaving his small frame. "Okay." "Ready?" His nod was all the strength I needed. Together, we stepped out of the car. The church doors swallowed us into a sea of mourners—pack members in their finest black, allies from neighboring territories, and a scattering of human associates who'd done business with my father. The air hummed with whispered condolences and the cloying scent of lilies. My family sat like royalty in the front pew. My mother's head rested against Ethan's shoulder, while Celeste— Gods. Even in grief, my sister looked like she'd stepped from a magazine spread. Sunlight through stained glass windows gilded her perfect blonde waves, her designer dress clinging to curves that had always made my own frame feel boyish in comparison. "Daniel, darling!" My mother's arms opened wide as we approached—not for me, never for me—but for the grandson who carried the Blackthorne name. The grandson who mattered. I watched numbly as Daniel was enfolded in her embrace, his small frame disappearing against her black lace. That left only one vacant seat—sandwiched between Celeste and the end of the pew. My sister's glacial blue eyes raked over me. A decade apart, yet her hatred hadn't dimmed. She inched away as I sat, the silk of her dress whispering against the pew like a snake's warning. Trying to force my thoughts away from the family who didn't want me, I let my gaze wander round the hall—and land on another family that didn't want me. The Blackthornes occupied the opposite side of the aisle, Kieran's broad shoulders cutting an imposing silhouette beside his parents. Leona Blackthorne's lips pursed when she noticed me looking. Like my family rejected me, the Blackthornes refused to accept me. To them, I was Kieran's legal wife, not his Luna. His mother, Leona, still held the title of Luna even after the Alpha title was passed to Kieran. Now, she regarded me icily. I'm sure she was ecstatic over the divorce news. The stain on her family was finally gone. A small, warm hand slipped into mine. Daniel had extricated himself from my mother's clutches and now formed a living barrier between me and Celeste. His fingers squeezed mine—a silent I'm here. I squeezed back, drawing strength from this remarkable child who shouldn't have needed to be the brave one. The organ's mournful chords signaled the service's start. Just a few more hours. I could hold myself together that long. Couldn't I? *** The day had been a blur of somber rituals and stifling formalities. After ensuring Daniel was settled with his grandparents for the evening, I'd rushed to the post-funeral gathering—a "Celebration of Life" reception at the Lockwood Hotel. Stepping into the grand hall was like entering another world. The heavy silence of the day had been replaced by the low hum of conversation and the clink of crystal. Laughter, albeit subdued, punctuated the air. The shift was disorienting. I hadn't attended a function like this in a decade. Ten years ago, I was merely Celeste's shadow. In the ten years since, Kieran had never taken me to a single public pack event. Familiar faces swam in the crowd, but they were outnumbered by strangers. I had never been part of the inner social circles of either the Lockwoods or the Blackthornes. I kept to the edges, a ghost in my own father's house, trying to navigate towards the family section. And then I saw it. Across the room, Celeste stood, radiant in a slate-gray gown that complemented Kieran's dark suit perfectly. Her hand was tucked possessively in the crook of his arm, her head tilted towards his shoulder in a gesture of intimate familiarity, as if she were his rightful Luna. My mother stood nearby, beaming as she spoke to an elderly Alpha from a neighboring pack, undoubtedly introducing them as her proud daughter and future son-in-law. The irony was a live wire against my frayed nerves, but I knew I had forfeited any right to object. If I'd ever had one. "See? That's how it was always meant to be." The voice, sharp with malice, came from my side. Abby, Celeste's friend from our youth, appeared like a viper. Her smile was all teeth. "You stole what was hers. If not for you, this scene would have been at their wedding a decade ago, not a funeral. Don't get any ideas about crawling back. I'll be watching you for her." Her words were poison-tipped darts, but my pride, brittle as it was, wouldn't let me crumble. "I'm here for my father. Not for anyone else." "Playing the devoted daughter now?" Abby gave a tinkling, humorless laugh. "If you were any kind of daughter, you wouldn't have driven your own sister away for ten years. She missed her chance to say goodbye because of you." It was a direct hit, twisting the knife of guilt that had been buried in my heart since the hospital. I knew, with a certainty that hollowed me out, that the daughter my father had truly wanted at his bedside wasn't me. "Some people should know their place and slink back to their little rental," Abby hissed, leaning in. I opened my mouth to retort, but she subtly, deliberately, shifted her weight and shoved her hip against mine. The motion was disguised but effective. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the rug, and collided with a serving table laden with champagne flutes. Time slowed. The crash of glass was deafening in the conversational lull. Shards glittered like cruel diamonds on the marble floor, champagne pooling around my ruined shoes. A wave of horrified silence washed over the section of the room, followed by a crescendo of whispers. "Seraphina!" My mother's voice cut through the noise, sharp with a disgust that stung more than the broken glass. Ethan was at her side, his eyes blazing with suppressed fury. "Must you always create a spectacle? Even today?" My gaze, humiliated and desperate, flew across the room to Kieran. His brow was furrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But before he could speak or move, Celeste was already gliding forward, a vision of concerned grace amidst the chaos. She reached me, her expression a masterpiece of sympathetic distress. "Oh, Sera, you're soaked. Let me help you." She raised her voice slightly, a gentle command to the onlookers. "It's just a little accident. Nothing to see. Please, enjoy the evening." Then, her hand closed around my wrist with surprising firmness. "I'll take her to get cleaned up." I had to admire Celeste—her timing was always impeccable. She steered me away from the staring crowd, down a familiar hallway to a small, opulent sitting room often used for private conversations. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the compassionate mask melted away. The serene concern vanished from her face, replaced by a cold, glacial calm. She released my wrist as if it were contaminated. "Still making a mess of everything, I see," she said, her voice soft but devoid of all warmth."Well, this does simplify things." The cloying scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped me as she closed the distance. "Ten years, sister," she hissed. "Ten years you played house with my life. But I'm reclaiming what's mine—my family, my position..." Her breath warmed my ear. "My Kieran." "And this time, you're going to lose everything." If this weren't my father's memorial, I might have laughed. The absurdity—Celeste had always owned them all. Their love, their loyalty, Kieran's heart—none of it had ever truly been mine to lose. I met her icy gaze, keeping my voice as steady as I could, refusing to let the bitterness seep through. "It seems you haven't changed either, Celeste. The one who got everything, yet somehow always the victim." A flicker of raw anger, primal and satisfying, flashed across her perfect features. Bullseye. "It took me a decade to accept my part in what happened. But you weren't innocent, Celeste. I offered to run, to do anything to stop the wedding, to leave Kieran for you. I even begged you. But you did nothing!" "You're lying!" she snapped, but the denial came too quickly, the faint flush creeping up her neck betraying her. The old wound still festered. "You threatened me! You wanted to make me look like the villain!" I let out a short, humorless laugh, taking a step closer. "Is that what it was? Your perfect image came first? So you ran across an ocean rather than fight for the 'great love' you supposedly shared?" Her breath hitched, thrown by the direct hit. For a long moment, she just stared. Then she took a deep breath, her expression settling into one of cold, triumphant pity. "You've gotten better at twisting the truth in ten years. I had to leave because I was heartbroken. And, most importantly, because everyone chose to believe my heartbreak over your… circumstances." The air left my lungs in a quiet rush. A slow, cruel smile curved her lips. "But I can understand. How else could you have made yourself feel better about these ten years, if not by telling yourself a few lies?" My fists clenched at my sides, the urge to wipe that smug look off her face almost overwhelming. "Admit it, Sera. You weren't enough. I heard Father cut off your funds. Mother and Ethan froze you out. But you know what? Even from overseas, I never lost my place. Every major holiday, they flew to see me…" "See, I gave you ten years, Sera. And you still couldn't earn their love. If anything, they love me more." My heart twisted, the old abandonment wound ripped wide open anew. And my own sister reveled in it. "And Kieran? He kept sending Christmas gifts every single year. Even when I never wrote back, he never missed one. Did you really think you could ever win against that?" I fought to keep the tears from showing, to keep my voice from trembling. "I don't care anymore, Celeste. Kieran and I are divorced. I won't give you another chance to stand on my dignity." "Let's hope our paths don't cross again." I didn't wait for a response. I turned, pulled the door open, and strode back down the hallway, past the murmuring guests, out of the grand hall that had never been my home, away from the people who had never been my family. The weight of their stares was a physical pressure on my back, but I refused to look back. I never should have come. All I wanted now was my son. To collect Daniel from his grandparents, go back to our little house, and start building the quiet, honest life we deserved. But the tears I'd held back all day finally broke free the moment I was alone in the car. They weren't gentle; they were a torrent, blurring the stately drive of the Lockwood Hotel into a watery smear of green and gray. Sobs shook my shoulders, making it hard to breathe, hard to see. I was crying for the father I'd never truly had, for the mother who despised me, for the love that had always been a lie. I was driving too fast for the winding, tree-lined road, blinded by grief and rage and a desperate need to escape. The headlights cut a shaky path through the deepening twilight. That's why I didn't see it until it was too late. One moment, the road was empty. The next, a massive, dark shape erupted from the dense undergrowth to my right. It wasn't a deer. It moved on two legs, then four—a terrifying, loping gait that covered the distance in a heartbeat. A rogue.