Chapter 3

Early the next day, my mother and I were on the second floor, watching people come and go below.

My father was sitting far too close to Sylvia when he called me.

"Selina, did the two of you eat breakfast? Your mother has a sensitive stomach, so make sure she has some hot soup."

I scoffed inwardly.

Was he really worried about my mother's health, or was he just making sure we were at home and wouldn't show up to ruin his plans? Only he knew.

I smiled mockingly but kept my voice casual. "Don't worry, we're eating right now. I'll make sure she has her soup."

He was visibly relieved.

"Good. The event is about to start, and I have things to do here. When it's over, I'll take you both out for a nice dinner."

As soon as the call ended, Sylvia quietly took his hand.

My father hesitated but didn't pull away. Instead, he closed his hand around hers.

Disgusted, I looked away and turned to my mother.

She stared at their joined hands without blinking.

"The last time he and I went to a board meeting together, I reached for his hand on the way out without thinking.

"But he wouldn't let me. He said it looked bad at work. That a wolf shouldn't be that clingy.

"So it was all just an excuse."

I took her hand and wiped her eyes for her.

"Don't waste any more tears on him, Mom."

She gave a bitter smile.

"20 years of marriage. And here we are."

Not long after, the press conference started.

My father sat in the middle of the panel and spoke with easy confidence.

Beside him, Sylvia added with a smile, "Elias isn't only the best partner I've ever worked with. He's one of the dearest friends I could ever ask for.

"Ten years ago, the first time we worked together, I found a small problem in a contract. Ten minutes after I called him, he was standing in front of me."

My mother trembled at that.

"Ten years ago, the night your fever wouldn't come down, I called your father. I was out of my mind with worry.

"I called over and over, but he never picked up.

"In the end, I carried you on my back to the hospital, alone in the pouring rain."

Still smiling, Sylvia went on. "Three years ago, a crooked landlord unfairly evicted me, leaving me with nowhere to go.

"Elias stood up to him and made things right. Then he bought me an apartment so I'd have a stable place to live."

My mother's eyes went red.

"That year, your father said the company had hit a wall and needed three million dollars immediately to keep going.

"We didn't have that much cash on hand, so I sold my jewelry to help him through it."

Sylvia looked at my father with pure love in her eyes.

"And five years ago, when my father was seriously ill in the hospital, Elias made time to sit with him every day for a full month."

That finally broke my mother. Her voice caught. "Five years ago, your grandmother died. He said he was away on business and couldn't get a flight back. He put off coming home until after the funeral.

"I thought... I thought... he really did have a reason..."

I squeezed her cold hand, trying to comfort her without words.

I looked down at the mild smile on my father's face, and hatred surged through me.

Sylvia spoke again, her voice sweet and her pride barely concealed. "At the end of last year, I was working late at the office on my birthday. Elias felt bad that I was working so hard, so he chartered a yacht and threw me a party."

My mother turned to me, her eyes red, her face devastated.

She didn't have to say it. I knew.

At the end of last year, the three of us had planned a camping trip.

Just before we left, my father said something had come up at work and told my mother and me to go ahead.

On the way there, we were in a car accident. The doors crumpled, and we nearly died trapped inside.

Even as wolves, we got a door open barely 30 seconds before the car exploded. The blast threw us to the ground and knocked us both out.

While our wounds were being dressed at the hospital, my mother called my father 17 times. He never picked up once.

She stared at the call log for a long time, then forced a smile to reassure me.

"Your father is probably busy with work. We'll have him come get us in a while."

We waited at the hospital until dark before my father finally arrived in a panic.

His eyes were red. He slapped himself and said it was all his fault—that he should never have put work ahead of us.

My mother even comforted him, saying injuries like ours were nothing to a wolf.

So in his eyes, whether my mother and I lived or died mattered far less than Sylvia's birthday.

As the event wound down, my father stood up to pose for photos with Sylvia.

A reporter from a newspaper I'd never heard of snapped pictures and flattered them. "We've all heard that Mr. Thorne is married and devoted to his wife, and that he keeps his family life private.

"So Ms. Kemp must be your devoted wife?

"You two look perfect together."

His words drew a round of good-natured teasing from the crowd.

Up onstage, my father didn't deny a word of it. He just looked down at Sylvia, and they smiled at each other.

There was something sickening in that look.

I let out a cold laugh and got to my feet. I walked onto the second-floor balcony and picked up the microphone I'd had someone set out for me.

"Dad, if the she-wolf next to you is your wife, then what is my mother, who has been your mate for 20 years?"