Chapter 3

Kieran missed my follow-up appointment too.

Halfway through the examination, his voice brushed my mind through our private mindlink.

[How are you feeling? Vivienne's having another episode, but I'll check on you later.]

It was faint and distracted, as though he'd called from the far end of a tunnel. I shut him out without answering.

The doctor checked my incision and told me to avoid strenuous activity for at least six weeks. She also recommended grief counseling. When she asked why my baby's father hadn't come, Naomi gave a humorless laugh from the chair beside me.

"He's taking care of someone with a scratch on her forehead."

The doctor let the subject drop.

On our way home, I stopped at a custom art studio. Four days later, the artist handed me a clear resin night-light. Inside it, she had sealed my son's final ultrasound and a copy of the tiny footprint card the hospital had given me.

The wooden base carried the name I'd chosen for him: Little Star.

I locked the light in a drawer in the study. The key stayed on the hair tie around my wrist.

Margaret called that evening. "We're changing Saturday's welcome celebration into the annual Damon Memorial Foundation gala," Kieran's mother said. "Vivienne has been fragile since the crash. Honoring her mate might help settle her."

The welcome celebration had been planned when I was five months pregnant. The Blackpine Pack was supposed to gather and bless the Alpha's future heir. The place cards had been printed. The cake had been ordered. The gold backdrop already carried Little Star's name.

"That celebration is for my baby."

"There'll be plenty of chances to celebrate the child later. Damon's memorial only comes once a year. Aria, you're the current Luna. Try to be the bigger person."

I laughed before I could stop myself. "Fine. Change it."

She paused, apparently surprised that I hadn't argued. "Kieran has enough on his plate with the border attacks. Don't bother him with every little thing."

After she hung up, I contacted the event company and asked for the revised contract along with the original order. It was another piece of evidence.

By Saturday night, the gold Little Star backdrop had been replaced by a huge black-and-white photograph of Damon. Vivienne wore the white dress reserved for Blackpine's former Luna and sat at Margaret's right hand.

I was the current Luna, yet my place was at the far end of the long table.

Even the place card in front of me had been reused. Someone had covered the gold words Mother of Blackpine's Future with a plain white label that said Aria Lawson. They hadn't bothered to include my title.

Kieran's chair was empty. His assistant said he was still dealing with pack business but would arrive as soon as he could.

No one asked why I was pale or why I moved as if every step hurt. The elders traded stories about Damon, and several relatives squeezed Vivienne's hand and praised her for remaining devoted to her late mate.

One of Kieran's distant cousins glanced at me and whispered to the woman beside her, "The new Luna can't even manage a smile. If Kieran hadn't found his fated mate, Vivienne could've kept the title."

I lifted my water glass and ignored her.

Across the room, Vivienne swayed and grabbed the edge of the table. Margaret jumped up, and half the guests crowded around her. Vivienne pressed a hand to her chest and said she'd caught the smell of disinfectant, which had brought the crash back.

The scent came from the fresh dressing over my incision, and every head turned toward me. Margaret's voice sharpened. "Aria, you know hospital smells trigger her. Why would you sit this close?"

There was an entire banquet table between us.

Facts had never mattered in this family. Vivienne only had to hurt, and someone else had to take the blame.

I set down my glass and left.

Back at the Alpha House, I sat in the dark study and went through the accounts line by line.

After Damon died, Vivienne had received $4.2 million from his life insurance and personal trust. Three months after the funds cleared, Kieran was still paying for her villa and every other expense.

She wasn't helpless. She had simply gotten used to handing her bills to my mate.

And Kieran had never once said no.

I also learned that the pack relief center had never received the crib, stroller, clothes, or blankets from the nursery. The final recipient on the so-called donation inventory was Vivienne's cousin in the next state.

One shipping note read: [Forest-green cashmere baby blanket. Private gift.]

I had chosen that blanket myself. Little Star's name was embroidered in one corner.

I printed every record and sorted the pages by date. Then I emailed copies to my attorney and Blackpine's finance committee.

[I am requesting an immediate freeze on discretionary withdrawals from the joint accounts and a full independent audit.]

My lower abdomen still ached when I hit Send. The pain didn't make me hesitate. It cut through the last scraps of hope I'd been foolish enough to keep.