ACCUSATION GONE WRONG

MAYA

The eve of the wedding was supposed to be a time of quiet triumph, but the tension thick in the halls of Crimson Ridge Manor made every breath feel heavy.

Tomorrow, I was supposed to marry Alpha Edward. Tomorrow, I was supposed to claim the crown that had been stolen from me when they buried Princess Philomena eighteen years ago. Yet, as I sat at the wooden vanity in my quarters, staring at my reflection, my mind was racing.

I had never forgotten what I overheard near the kitchen pantry days ago—Maria commanding a servant to poison my morning broth and murder the heir in my belly. That same Maria had spent nights sneaking into my room, using my body to satisfy her own twisted desires, playing with me like a toy before vanishing into the shadows. The sheer hypocrisy of it was sickening. But with everything happening so fast, the identity of the boy she had tasked with the poisoning had briefly slipped my mind.

Until this afternoon.

I was standing near the grand hall, watching staff arrange white roses for the ceremony, when a young man walked up to me. He had slicked hair, nervous hands, and a smooth, innocent face.

"Ma'am," he announced, bowing his head slightly. "I am to decorate your face tomorrow for the ceremony. The Luna sent me to handle your makeup."

I stared at him, and the memory snapped into place. It was the same boy from the shadows—the one Maria had threatened to throw into the dungeons if he didn't put nightshade in my food.

A cold, lethal wave of disgust washed over me. I didn't care about playing the helpless street orphan anymore.

"Just so you will get a chance to kill the baby in my womb," I replied, my voice dropping into an icy, dangerous whisper without giving a single damn about who was around.

The boy's face drained of all color. His lips trembled, but before he could speak, he turned on his heel and scrambled away like a frightened rabbit.

I thought that would be the end of it for the afternoon. I was wrong.

That same night, the heavy door to my room was thrown open. Alpha Edward stepped inside, his expression dark, heavy, and full of sorrow. Walking right beside him was Maria, her lips curved into a triumphant, venomous smirk. And standing timidly behind them was the boy.

"Maya," Edward began, his deep voice thick with tension. "We have a serious matter to address before tomorrow can proceed."

Maria stepped forward, crossing her arms over her chest. "This young man came to me in tears, Maya. You just accused him of plotting to murder the Alpha's unborn heir. Do you have any idea who you are talking to?"

I narrowed my eyes at the boy, my jaw tight. "He is the kitchen boy who agreed to put poison in my broth."

"He is not a kitchen boy!" Maria snapped, her voice ringing out through the quiet room. "His name is Lucas. He is Alpha Edward’s younger brother, born of royal blood! You have just accused the Alpha's brother of an attempted murder crime, and you must prove it—or else this wedding will not hold!"

My breath hitched in my throat.

Lucas? The Alpha's brother?

In my past life as Princess Philomena, I had made Edward everything he was today. I had given his family power, elevated his status, and backed his claim to leadership. I had refused to extend those royal privileges to his distant, illegitimate family back then, but now, here was his younger brother, disguised among the household staff, acting as Maria's personal pawn.

In pack law, accusing a member of the royal bloodline of a capital crime without immediate, physical proof was a high offense. I had heard Maria order Lucas to poison me, but I had kept the secret to myself without gathering evidence. I couldn't produce the nightshade bottle. I couldn't bring a witness.

Maria had set the trap, and I had walked right into it. She was always one step ahead of me. She knew I had overheard her, and instead of hiding, she had used her leverage over Lucas to turn the entire accusation against me. Even though Edward sat on the throne, it felt like the real power still belonged entirely to her.

Edward looked at me, his amber eyes filled with deep disappointment and grief. "Maya... is this true? Did you make this claim without proof?"

"Edward, I heard him—"

"Hearing a rumor is not proof, Maya!" Edward cut in, leaning his head back and letting out a heavy, agonized sigh. He looked completely crushed. "I cannot marry a woman who levels unproven murder charges against my own bloodline on the eve of our union. The pack elders will not allow it."

He looked at Maria, then back at me, his face a mask of profound sadness. "The wedding is shifted till further notice. You have to prove the accusations, Maya. Until then, the ceremony cannot happen."

"Edward, please!" Maria feigned concern, placing a delicate hand on his arm while casting a mocking glare in my direction. "We must uphold royal law. A royal bloodline cannot be slandered."

I stood there, my chest heaving, completely cornered. I had heard Maria give the exact order to Lucas in the dark corridor days ago. But calling her name right now would be far worse. Just look at the disaster calling out Lucas had put me in—if I dared to accuse Maria, the reigning Luna, without ironclad evidence, they would brand me a traitor and execute me before sunrise.

Edward turned and slowly walked out of the room, his shoulders slouched in defeat. Maria gave me one last, wicked smile before following him out, pulling Lucas along with her and slamming the heavy oak door shut.

The iron bolt clicked into place. I was locked in once again.

The wedding was canceled. My chance to claim the crown tomorrow was gone. The humiliation, the frustration, and the utter helplessness boiled inside my chest until hot tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

"Why?" I sobbed out loud to the empty room, sinking to my knees on the cold stone floor. "Why does she always win?"

I lifted my head, my tear-filled eyes falling upon the massive, shrouded picture frame hanging on the wall opposite my bed—the hidden portrait of Princess Philomena.

I stared at it with a mixture of raw agony and burning fury. I stared at the canvas where my past self was trapped, buried beneath layers of velvet and lie after lie.

Then, the picture on the wall began to shake.

A low, vibrating rattle hummed through the frame. I gasped, wiping the tears from my face, keeping my eyes locked onto the dark velvet cloth. The harder I stared, the faster and more violently the frame rattled against the stone.

Suddenly, I realized something that made my blood run cold.

There was no wind. There was no mechanism. The shaking wasn't just happening on its own—it was reacting directly to my gaze. I didn't know that staring at it with all the buried rage of my soul would make it shake.

I narrowed my eyes, pouring every ounce of my anger, my grief, and my royal authority into that single, fixed stare.

Crack.

A deep fissure snapped through the stone wall right behind the painting.

The vibration didn't stop at the frame. It spread down the walls, through the floorboards, and into the foundation of the manor itself. The candelabras on the tables began to clatter. The glass panes in the high arched windows vibrated violently, ringing like shrill bells.

Not just the picture, but the entire building began to shake.

Dust rained down from the ancient wooden ceiling beams. Down the hall, I heard heavy footsteps scrambling in panic, servants screaming, and guards shouting orders as the floor beneath them rolled like the surface of an angry ocean.

I stood up slowly from the floor, my breath catching in my throat as a profound, terrifying realization washed over me.

Dear Goddess. I had spent all this time relying on my body, playing delicate mind games, and using the power between my legs to manipulate Edward and survive Maria's cruelty. But I had completely forgotten who I was. I was not just a clever girl using her body to win a crown. I was Princess Philomena, born of royal wolf blood, holding an ancient, dormant power that could shatter the very stone of this fortress.

I had far more power than just vagina power.

From down the corridor, past the trembling walls and the cracking plaster, I heard a sharp, hysterical shriek. It was Maria.

"The ghost!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unadulterated horror. "She's breaking out! Lock the doors! Lock the doors!"

I listened as her heavy suite doors slammed shut, followed by the frantic metallic slide of multiple deadbolts. Maria had locked herself inside her room, cowering in the dark, shivering in absolute terror as the ground beneath her feet continued to heave.

I stood alone in the center of my shaking room, listening to the panicked cries of my enemies echoing through the walls.

Slowly, the tears on my face dried. A cold, wicked smile spread across my lips as I kept my eyes fixed on the crumbling wall.

Let them delay the wedding. Let them keep their legal deeds and their royal titles for a few days more. They thought they were holding a helpless maid in a cage, but they had just awakened the storm—and this time, I wasn't going to stop until the entire house came crashing down on their heads.