CHAPTER 4

Vivienne Wainwright POV

"If you raise a single finger against Cressida again, I will personally strip your name from the Wainwright pack ledger!"

The stinging blow crashes across Vivienne’s face, snapping her head sharp to the side. Her skin burns white-hot, but her dark eyes remain completely blank, drained of every drop of light. She stands motionless in the cold night air, the heavy silence hanging thick around her.

Cressida Wainwright glides smoothly to Thelma Wainwright’s side, resting a delicate hand on her mother’s arm to soothe her flared temper. "Mother, please do not raise your voice. I only linked one million credits to that card anyway. I was terrified that if I gave Vivienne too much access, she would squander the pack funds recklessly on luxury items like she always used to, so I kept the balance low."

A raw, agonizing ache burns through Vivienne’s throat. She turns away without a word and yanks open the side door of the parked transport carriage. "Please take me to..."

Her voice dies in her throat. Her mind slams into a wall of absolute fog. Not a single street name, pack territory, or house address comes to her.

Through the clear glass window of the carriage, she watches her blood family walk through the front gates of the Wainwright compound together, their arms linked as they leave her behind in the dark.

Wilbur Haines, the transport driver, turns around in his seat and lets out a long, heavy sigh. "Are those wolves truly your family, or are they your sworn enemies? You did not even open your mouth to defend yourself, and they struck you across the jaw. Forget the hundred credits. Just step out of my vehicle."

The tears Vivienne had been desperately fighting back finally spill over her lashes, tracing hot tracks down her swollen cheek. She closes her eyes, clutching her thin tunic. Are they truly my bloodline... or my enemies?

A few paces away near the heavy iron gates, Cressida holds Merriweather Blackwell’s hand tightly, a subtle flicker of cold satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "Mother, Merriweather... do you think Vivienne really lost her memory in the crash? Perhaps we ought to call her back inside the grounds."

Thelma’s face darkens instantly, her nostrils flaring with deep aversion. "If that girl truly suffered memory loss, she never would have found her way back to our front gates! She is pulling another sick play!"

Thelma turns to Merriweather, her tone turning urgent and persuasive. "Merriweather, you must break off the formal mate arrangement with her at once. Do not let Cressida suffer another moment of heartbreak. She has already endured far too much pain living outside our territory. As her mother, I cannot bear to watch her hurt again."

"You have my word, Mrs. Wainwright," Merriweather answers smoothly, tightening his grip on Cressida’s fingers. "I will shield Cressida for the rest of my life."

As for Vivienne? They had grown up together in the same pack grounds, but he had grown utterly disgusted by her years ago.

Besides, when Vivienne and Cressida had wandered near the border territory years ago, Cressida was the one captured by rogue wolves.

When Cressida was finally rescued five years ago, the dark truth had come out: Cressida had shielded Vivienne with her own body, telling her to run back and summon the pack warriors.

Vivienne had fled, but she had brought no help—she had abandoned her own sister to the rogues.

She had been vile from the very beginning. After Cressida returned home, Vivienne tormented her relentlessly, convinced that Cressida had stolen her place as the pack’s favored daughter.

Every time Merriweather stepped in to protect Cressida, Vivienne threw explosive tantrums. Everything happening to her tonight was entirely of her own making.

Vivienne sits alone on the cold stone curb outside the estate walls, her oversized Moonbrook Hospital gown wrapped loosely around her shivering frame. She looks impossibly fragile, her head resting against her knees.

A sleek silver transport pulls up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the darkness.

"Vivienne?" a young female voice calls out as the window rolls down.

Vivienne lifts her head, her swollen eyes fixing on the unfamiliar face. The female looks vaguely familiar, but no name surface in her mind.

"What is it this time?" Verity Langford asks, shaking her head as she surveys the hospital gown. "Did you have another massive row with Merriweather? At least change out of your clinic clothes before you storm off into the night."

Vivienne blinks numbly. "Who... who are you?"

Verity slaps her palm against her forehead with a loud groan, then reaches over to pop the passenger door open. "Just get inside. Honestly, I do not even blame Merriweather’s inner circle for getting sick of you. You pull this exact same amnesia stunt twice a season. I will never understand why you put that male on such a high pedestal."

Vivienne climbs into the passenger seat, sitting in absolute silence as the vehicle accelerates down Blackthorn Financial Street.

Verity drives toward the outer residential quarter of Frostmere City, turning into a quiet residential avenue. "You can crash at my apartment tonight. Not that it changes anything. You will probably be crawling right back to his pack house first thing tomorrow morning."

Vivienne follows Verity inside, carefully sliding off her shoes at the entryway out of instinct. The apartment layout feels strangely familiar—her body moves through the hallway without her mind having to think. She sits quietly on the edge of the plush sofa while Verity pours a glass of warm water and sets it on the table.

Clasping the warm mug between her ice-cold fingers, Vivienne feels the first bit of warmth return to her chest.

Verity lets out a massive yawn, rubbing her eyes. "I am heading straight to the shower. You can sleep in the guest room like you always do. And in the morning, make sure you pack up the spare clothes you left in the wardrobe last month."

Verity stops at the hallway door, turning back with a exasperated frown. "Honestly, Vivienne, I wish you would grow an actual spine for once and stop surrendering to Merriweather Blackwell the second he snaps his fingers. Every time you run away, it never lasts more than three days."

She shakes her head bitterly. "The moment he crooks his finger, you go crawling right back, letting him trample all over your dignity. It is no wonder his family and friends look down on you like dirt. Seriously... if you actually lost your memories this time, I would set off silver fireworks across Frostmere City to celebrate."

Verity disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Vivienne sets her water cup down, stepping quietly into the guest room. She opens the closet door to look for a clean tunic, but her hand catches on a heavy, locked metal box hidden beneath a stack of folded clothes.

Curious, she pulls the metal box out onto the bed. It has no keyhole, only a six-digit pack combination lock.

On instinct, her fingers turn the dials: 0 - A - 6 - 23.

The heavy iron latch snaps open with a loud click.

Inside the box lies a thick, dark leather binder stamped with official seals, along with a sealed medical envelope from Moonbrook Hospital dated two years prior.

Vivienne opens the binder. The top document is a legally binding pack agreement signed in dark ink.

Her eyes scan the bold heading at the top of the parchment: OFFICIAL MATE CONTRACT AND UNCONDITIONAL PACK OATH BETWEEN ALPHA RODERICK BLACKWELL AND VIVIENNE WAINWRIGHT.

Directly beneath the contract lies an official DNA match certificate stamped by the Frostmere Elders, declaring a 100% biological mate bond between her and Alpha Roderick Blackwell.

Vivienne’s heart stops dead in her chest, her fingers trembling violently as she unfolds the second document inside the medical envelope.

It is an official surgical consent form from the day of the fatal pack ambush two years ago.

Across the bottom, in her own handwriting, Vivienne had signed her name, consenting to a dangerous procedure to transfer her own inner wolf essence to stabilize Alpha Roderick’s heart after he was crippled.

A handwritten note attached to the back reads: If Alpha Roderick ever wakes, he must never know it was Vivienne who gave her wolf essence to save his life. Merriweather Blackwell has taken credit for the rescue.