19

Jane never expected Zara to dare talk back.

All this time, Zara had always chosen silence. Lowering her head. Giving in.

So when those words slipped from Zara’s lips just now, Jane felt as if she’d been splashed with boiling water. Her chest burned, her face flushed, and her young pheromones burst out uncontrollably.

“Who has the same blood as you?!” she snapped sharply, as if she could erase that fact from the world.

Zara met her gaze without flinching.

Then she nodded slowly, as if seriously thinking it over. “You’re right.”

Jane curled her lips in satisfaction, thinking Zara had finally backed down.

But the next second, Zara continued in a flat voice sharp as a silver blade.

“Of course it’s not the same. Some blood comes from Father and from a mate-stealing woman.”

Jane’s face froze.

Then it exploded.

“You Zara!” Jane screamed, her voice cracking with fury. “How dare you say that about my mother! Are you crazy?!”

Without thinking, Jane swung her hand toward Zara’s face, her intention obvious: a slap.

But Zara was nothing like she used to be.

With lightning reflexes, Zara caught Jane’s wrist before that palm could land. Her grip was firm, unyielding, stopping Jane like a young wolf held down by force.

Zara stared at her coldly.

“What did I say?” Zara asked softly, but every word pierced. “Did I say your mother stole someone’s mate?”

Jane flinched.

Zara narrowed her eyes. “Wasn’t it you who interpreted it that way?”

Jane suddenly lost her voice.

The noble girl who had been standing beside them was shocked too. She only knew Jane was the daughter of Pack Peakmoon, a name big enough in the northern territory but she had never truly known who Jane was, or how Jane even came to exist.

Now, after hearing that exchange, the girl’s gaze shifted. A faint disgust she tried to hide, and an undeniable discomfort.

Her smile turned stiff.

She quickly took her shopping boxes back from Jane’s hands.

“Jane,” she said fast, as if afraid she’d be too late. “Handle your problem first. I still have something else to do. I’ll go.”

“Don’t !” Jane instinctively reached out, but the girl had already stepped back.

Without caring whether Jane tried to stop her, the noble girl walked away quickly, as if standing too close to Jane might stain her as well.

Jane stared at the retreating figure.

Rage and frustration choked her throat. Her eyes burned, almost watering. But more than sadness, she felt humiliated.

Meanwhile, Zara didn’t even spare her another glance.

Zara turned around and left, as if Jane were nothing but dust unworthy of attention.

“You, you,” Jane trembled, her voice hoarse from holding back tears. “Zara! You dare bully me! Just wait! I’ll tell Father and Mother!”

Jane stomped hard on the ground, like a young wolf that failed to sink its teeth into its prey.

But Zara kept walking without looking back.

That only made Jane’s shame swell until she was on the verge of exploding.

Suddenly, Jane remembered something.

Her steps halted abruptly.

Her eyes flicked to the signboard beside the building.

Territorial Court?

Jane frowned. Zara had come out of there earlier. For what?

Suspicion spread like poison creeping slowly through her veins.

Zara walked toward the parking area.

As soon as she got into her car, she sat still for several seconds, both hands gripping the steering wheel, her mind blank.

She didn’t know whether Marina was still at the villa.

But one thing was clear: Zara didn’t want to go back there now.

Not because she was afraid.

But because she was disgusted.

Since her mother died, Zara’s relationship with Peakmoon relatives had grown increasingly distant. After marrying Declan, she didn’t have many friends either. She’d been too busy surviving in Jordan territory, too busy swallowing pain.

Now, as everything began to crumble she didn’t even know where she could go home to.

Zara let out a long breath.

While she was still lost in thought, her phone suddenly rang.

The name on the screen hardened her chest.

Caksa.

Her father.

For a moment, Zara thought: Jane must have complained. Caksa was calling to scold her, force her to apologize, or even threaten to cut her off from the pack line.

But Zara didn’t expect the call to come this fast.

After hesitating, Zara finally answered.

Yet what she heard wasn’t shouting.

Not curses either.

Caksa’s voice sounded friendly. Too friendly so friendly it felt fake.

“Zara,” Caksa said, sounding like he was smiling. “How are things between you and Declan lately?”

A small awkward chuckle followed.

Zara narrowed her eyes.

Something felt wrong.

Ever since that major fight, Caksa had almost never called her. Even when Zara was sick or on her birthday, Caksa didn’t care.

And now suddenly he was asking about her relationship with Declan?

There was no way it was pure concern.

Zara didn’t answer right away. Her voice remained calm, cold. “What is it? Just say it.”

“Ah, just a small thing.” Caksa chuckled, as if they were still a harmonious pack. “I heard Pack Jordan is going to expand their industry into a new route.”

Caksa paused, then continued in a voice full of calculation.

“Coincidentally, the project Father designed aligns perfectly.”

“You tell Declan, alright, instead of investing in other packs, it’s better to cooperate with Pack Peakmoon.”

Before Caksa could finish, Zara already understood.

It had always been like this.

Ever since Zara married Declan, Caksa had never truly seen her as a daughter, only as a bridge.

A bridge to money.

A bridge to power.

A bridge to Pack Jordan’s investment.

And Zara knew it well: Caksa had exploited that relationship again and again. Receiving countless injections of funds from Pack Jordan, even though several projects ended in failure and loss.

Zara had confronted Caksa about it before.

But Caksa had only brushed it off lightly, as if it were normal.

“With Pack Jordan’s assets, a little loss is nothing,” he had said back then. “Besides, I already handed my daughter over to them. We’re relatives now.”

“Relax. I want both sides to profit too. It’s just that the timing hasn’t been right.”

“But Father believes Pack Peakmoon won’t be unlucky forever.”

The truth?

Until now, Pack Jordan had poured investment into Peakmoon dozens of times. And almost every single time, they suffered huge losses.