CHAPTER 5

Vivienne Wainwright POV

Vivienne Wainwright stays dead silent in the middle of the guest bedroom, her hand pressed flat against the cool metal of the locked pack chest. Exhaustion hangs heavy on Verity’s face in the door frame, making any attempt at explanation feel completely useless.

Verity drops a clean pair of cotton tunic clothes onto the edge of the mattress, letting out a long breath. "Your private bath is right through that door. Go wash the clinic smell off your skin and get some sleep. I am far too exhausted to listen to any more pack drama tonight."

Vivienne nods quietly, her jaw tightening as she pulls her eyes away from the mate contract in her hands. "Thank you."

The moment Verity steps across the hall and shuts her bedroom door, Vivienne knows the remaining room is hers.

She gathers the fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom, and turns on the hot water. The steam rises instantly, washing away the bitter trail of dried tears from her face and soothing the white-hot sting on her jaw. As the hot water hits her skin, her inner wolf gives a faint, agonized stir in the back of her mind, completely drained of strength.

She dries off, pulls on the clean tunic, and crawls onto the mattress. Just as her eyes begin to heavy, the personal comms device sitting on the bedside table buzzes with a sharp, violent vibration.

The screen flashes with a message from her younger brother, Tobiah Wainwright.

"Vivienne, I just got back to the Wainwright territory for the semester break. I just walked through the gates. It is Cressida's Luna-cycle celebration tonight. Why are you not here? Mother said you threw another pathetic fit and fled the pack house again. Are you serious right now? Can you stop this embarrassing nonsense already? Just get your back here and bow your head. The pack cooks make absolute slop. I want your roasted shadow-herbs for breakfast tomorrow morning, got it?"

A second message flashes immediately underneath it.

"Cressida was crying her eyes out at the dinner table tonight because of you. Just come back to the estate and apologize to her first. Are you not sick of making a massive scene every single month? Merriweather does not even want you as his mate. Sometimes, I swear I am completely humiliated to even call you my sister."

Vivienne’s fingers clamp around the edges of the comms glass until her knuckles turn white. A sharp, icy pain pierces directly through her chest, making it hard to draw air into her lungs. It feels as though the entire Wainwright pack adores Cressida, placing her on a pedestal reserved for a true Luna.

Meanwhile, Vivienne is treated like absolute trash beneath their boots, something to be discarded and kicked aside the moment she steps out of line.

Even with her memories wiped clean by the crash, the agonizing weight of their rejection burns just as deep.

The next morning, Vivienne wakes before sunrise, heavy dark circles casting deep shadows under her eyes.

She quiet steps into the apartment’s small kitchen and instinctively ignites the stove burners. Her hands move with practiced, automatic precision, chopping root vegetables and simmering spiced pack broth without a single second of hesitation. It surprises her how deeply ingrained the skill is in her physical movement.

Verity walks out of her bedroom a short while later, rubbing her eyes as the rich, savory scent of fresh broth fills the living room. She stops in her tracks and lets out a loud, heavy sigh.

"Are you seriously preparing another morning feast to carry over to Merriweather’s pack estate?" Verity asks, leaning against the counter with a look of pure exasperation. "Over all these years, how many hundreds of meals have you cooked for that male? Has he ever taken a single bite without throwing it in the trash? An upper-tier Wainwright daughter wasting her entire youth perfecting kitchen duties just to chase after an Alpha family heir who despises her..."

Verity shakes her head bitterly. "You finished your pack academy training and did not even bother applying for a seat on the elder council or a position in the territory offices. You spent years running after Merriweather Blackwell, and all you ever got in return was the entire city laughing behind your back. What was the actual point?"

Vivienne’s hand freezes mid-air over the steaming pot. She wants to open her mouth and clarify that she did not cook a single bite of this food for Merriweather.

But based on everything she has pieced together since waking up in Moonbrook Hospital, not a single soul in Frostmere City would believe a word out of her mouth.

She quietly ladles the rich broth into two clay bowls and sets them on the dining table.

Sitting on the table right next to the bowls is Verity’s official pack resume and qualification papers. Vivienne’s eyes drift over the documents before she lifts her gaze. "Verity, I need to secure an official position. What line of work did I study at the academy?"

Verity pauses, her spoon halfway to her mouth as her eyebrows pull together in total disbelief. "Vivienne, you are playing this amnesia card far more convincingly than usual."

A bitter, cold ache creeps up Vivienne’s throat. She pushes the warm bowl closer to Verity. "Just tell me the truth."

Verity takes a slow sip of the soup, letting out a long breath as the heat settles.

"You studied high-level territorial finance and pack asset management," Verity explains bluntly. "But your family’s entire commercial enterprise belongs to Tobiah. You probably do not even know which direction the main tower doors face in the Frostmere Business District. Even Cressida was granted a ten-percent voting share in the Wainwright estate holdings the day she returned, while you have absolutely nothing to your name."

Verity sets her spoon down with a soft clack. "Back when you graduated from the academy, Alpha Humphrey offered you a prime internship at the headquarters, but you flat-out rejected it because working full-time meant you would have less time to follow Merriweather around like a ghost. Now Cressida has built a massive reputation inside the firm. Everyone across the territory knows her as the beloved second daughter of the Wainwright bloodline. Nobody even remembers you exist."

Vivienne quietly chews on a piece of roasted root, staring down at her bowl for a long moment before speaking up. "Then I will take a position at the Blackwell Group headquarters instead. Alpha Roderick Blackwell just returned to Frostmere City, correct? I am going to pursue him."

Verity instantly chokes on her broth, coughing violently as the liquid catches in her throat. She grabs a cloth off the table, wiping her mouth as she stares at Vivienne like she has completely lost her mind.

"Are you insane?" Verity wheezes out, her voice rising an octave. "You hated Alpha Roderick more than anyone in this entire city! Just because Merriweather always resented his uncle's raw Alpha authority, you blindly adopted his hatred. Every single time someone mentioned Alpha Roderick’s name in your presence, you looked like you were going to vomit! Do you even have a clue what kind of male Roderick Blackwell actually is?"

Verity leans forward, tapping her finger aggressively on the wooden table. "He graduated top of his class from Haverford Academy with dual command masteries at eighteen years old. By nineteen, he founded the largest corporate acquisition network across the foreign pack territories. His face was featured on every finance and power cover across Blackthorn Financial Street! If it were not for that brutal border ambush two years ago that crippled his legs and bound him to a wheel-chair, every single female in Frostmere City would still be begging for his mark!"

Vivienne thinks back to the deep, commanding voice she had heard over the comms line at the hospital—the voice that had sent a strange, intense shiver straight to the core of her dormant wolf.

"What does he look like?" Vivienne asks softly.

Verity shakes her head, pulling out her mobile device and tapping the glass screen rapidly to pull up an archived international news profile. "Look for yourself."

She slides the device across the polished wood.

The male in the high-resolution photograph wears a tailored dark wool coat, his crisp shirt collared tight up to his jawline. He possesses a remarkably cold, commanding, almost forbidden aura. His facial structure is carved from pure stone, and his dark, piercing eyes hold the freezing depth of a winter ocean, concealing massive, dangerous power beneath a perfectly calm surface.

He is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking Alpha male Vivienne has ever set eyes upon—a thousand times more striking and dangerous than Merriweather Blackwell could ever dream to be.

Verity clicks her tongue in regret, looking at the picture. "It is a massive tragedy. After that devastating pack accident two years ago, he completely withdrew from public life. He never stepped foot back in Frostmere City until now, and not a single newspaper could get an interview. But even with his legs paralyzed, the highest-ranking Lunas and pack daughters across the country are still lining up just to get inside his office."

Vivienne takes a slow sip of her hot broth, her dark eyes remaining fixed on the powerful male in the photograph. "Merriweather made it very clear last night that our mate arrangement is dead. I am going to Blackwell Tower."

Verity gives Vivienne an utterly bewildered look, rubbing her temples as if a massive migraine is forming behind her eyes.

"Are you going to the Blackwell Group headquarters just to corner Merriweather and throw another desperate scene," Verity asks, shaking her head, "or are you actually insane enough to target Alpha Roderick? Do whatever you want, Vivienne. But if you somehow manage to command the attention of Alpha Roderick Blackwell... I swear on the Moon Mother I will never doubt a single thing you say again."