A LOVE TOO REAL TO FAKE

"The Royal Werewolf Academy called today."

At the dinner table, my mother Valerie cut her steak without even looking up. "They said you missed the final deadline to submit your materials."

It had been three whole days since I was locked out of the main building.

She only casually brought it up today.

I put down my knife and fork and looked at her.

"Yes. Because my ID was locked in a drawer in Father's study. And none of you were here."

"Freya, you are just too stubborn." My mother frowned. There was zero apology in her tone, only blame. "Couldn't you have figured something out when the door was locked? You mess with all those weird potions all day, but you can't even pick a lock?"

As she spoke, she naturally forked the only piece of roast meat from her plate onto Chloe's.

"Eat more, sweetie." My mother's voice instantly turned incredibly gentle. "You have your High Healer Trials next week. You need the energy."

I looked at that sizzling piece of meat. My stomach churned.

The only Royal Academy spot in the entire region. The perfect potion sample I stayed up all night for days to make. In my mother's eyes, none of it mattered compared to my sister's ordinary rank trials next week.

"I still need $320." I took a deep breath and looked at my father, Alaric, sitting at the head of the table. "The spot is gone, but I can still submit a report to the Independent Potioneers Forum out of state. I need to buy a new set of purification vials."

My father finally put down his wine glass.

His Alpha gaze locked onto me.

"No." His Alpha tone left no room for argument.

"Why?"

"The Crescent Falls Pack just secured our footing in the Northern Alliance. We drained our resources to build this main building." My father tapped the table. "As the Alpha's eldest daughter, you need to learn to be frugal. Every penny in this house needs to be spent wisely. Everything is for the future of the Pack."

Ding—

Right after my father spoke, Jace's phone chimed.

Jace excitedly grabbed his phone and whistled. "Thanks, Mom! Got the $800. That retired Alliance Commander can start my private combat training next week!"

Dead silence fell over the dining room.

$800 for private combat training.

$320 for potion vials.

Frugal. Everything is for the future of the Pack.

I got it.

I was the burden that needed to be "frugal," while Jace and Chloe were the "future" of this family.

I didn't argue. I just stood up calmly and cleared my plate.

"I'll wash the dishes."

The water from the pipes was bone-chillingly cold.

For the sake of this so-called "frugality," the mansion's heating system only supplied the Alpha's master bedroom, Jace's tactical room, and Chloe's sunroom.

My pipes were connected to the outdoor cold water tank.

My mother followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe.

"Clear your schedule for your part-time job this weekend," she ordered. "Go to the market with Chloe. She needs to pick out some moonstones for her healing rituals."

"I have to work at the herb shop." I scrubbed the grease off the plate hard. "I need to earn that $320 myself."

"Freya!" My mother raised her voice. "Your sister took the wrong bus once when she was nine! She gets panic attacks in crowded public areas with mixed scents! How can you be so selfish as an older sister?"

I turned off the faucet.

Freezing water dripped from my fingertips.

Fragile Chloe always cried for attention, and Jace carried the pride of the Alpha line.

Because I was stubbornly independent and never complained, they simply assumed I was invincible—and completely disposable.

I turned around and looked straight into my mother's angry eyes.

"You remember she took the wrong bus when she was nine." My voice was light but extremely clear. "But do you remember my hospital room number from last year? When I tested that cheap, strong potion Jace bought and had a severe allergic reaction?"

My mother froze.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"I was busy dealing with border disputes! Who has time to remember numbers!" Ashamed and angry, she glared at me fiercely, turned around, and clicked away in her heels.

I shook the water off my hands and walked upstairs alone.

On both sides of the hallway were Jace's spacious tactical simulation room and Chloe's sunroom, full of sunlight and floral scents.

I walked to the dark corner at the end of the hall and pushed open the wooden door of the converted storage room.

There were no windows.

Other than a twin bed, there wasn't even room for a decent desk.

My suitcase was still stuffed under the bed, covered in a thin layer of dust.

My phone screen lit up.

It was a message from my potion mentor.

[Freya, I'm truly sorry. The Royal Academy gave the spot to another candidate who had pack sponsorship. But you are the most gifted potioneer I've ever seen. Please don't give up.]

I looked at the message. A numb ache spread through my chest.

I opened my nightstand and took out a potion journal with yellowed edges.

There were messy black marker scribbles on the cover.

It was my masterpiece. The first basic formula I spent three months researching when I was thirteen. Chloe had used it as scratch paper to doodle on.

I opened the first page.

In the bottom right corner, there was a line written in my thirteen-year-old handwriting:

"If I disappear from this house one day, how long will it take for them to notice?"

I heard Chloe's happy laughter from next door, and my father's hearty voice praising Jace's strong punches.

This was their home.

From beginning to end, there was no place for me.

I picked up a pen and pressed down hard, writing a new line right under my childish handwriting:

"I'm turning eighteen soon. I don't need the answer anymore."

I cleanly ripped out that page, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash can in the corner.

Then, I bent down and dragged the dusty suitcase out from under the bed.