Chapter 3 The Mask

The days blurred together after that.

I woke up. I made breakfast. I took Ziki to the garden. I avoided Marilyn's smile and Ezekiel's cold gaze. I pretended everything was fine.

I got very good at pretending.

It was easier than facing the truth. The truth was a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. Every time I thought about it—the door, the kneeling, the smile—it opened again.

So I stopped thinking about it.

I went through the motions. I smiled when I was supposed to smile. I spoke when I was supposed to speak. I played the role of the dutiful Luna who had no idea her husband was sleeping with her best friend.

Nobody noticed.

That was the hardest part. Nobody noticed I was breaking. Nobody asked if I was okay. Nobody looked at me twice.

I was a ghost in my own house.

Three days after I found them, Marilyn came to my room again. This time she didn't knock. She just walked in like she owned the place.

Which, I supposed, she did now.

I was sitting at my vanity, brushing my hair. It was the only thing I could control—the way my hair fell, the way I looked, the mask I wore.

"Ymir." She said my name like we were still friends. Like nothing had changed. "I wanted to check on you."

I didn't turn around. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." She walked closer. I could see her reflection in the mirror—her perfect blonde hair, her perfect face, her perfect little smile. "You haven't been yourself."

I laughed. A hollow, bitter sound.

"Of course I haven't been myself. My husband is sleeping with my best friend. What do you expect?"

She sighed. Like I was being dramatic. Like I was the unreasonable one.

"I told you, I never meant to hurt you."

"Stop saying that." I spun around. The brush clattered to the floor. "Stop pretending you care. You don't care. You never cared. You just wanted what I had."

She blinked. The mask slipped for just a second—I saw the surprise in her eyes.

She hadn't expected me to fight back.

"Ymir, that's not true—"

"It is true." I stood up. I didn't know where the words were coming from, but I couldn't stop them. "You've been jealous of me for years. You wanted Ezekiel. You wanted my title. You wanted my life. And now you've taken it."

"Taken it?" She laughed. A light, airy laugh that made my blood boil. "I haven't taken anything. I just—"

"Replaced me." I stepped closer. "You replaced me. In his bed. In my son's life. In everything that mattered to me."

She paused. For a moment, she looked almost human.

Then the mask came back.

"If you were doing your job, he wouldn't have looked elsewhere," she said. Her voice was sweet, sugar-coated poison. "Maybe you should ask yourself why he chose me over you."

There it was. The truth she'd been hiding behind her perfect smile.

She was better than me.

She'd always thought so. She'd always seen herself as the one who deserved everything I had. She'd just been waiting for the right moment to take it.

"Get out." My voice was shaking. "Get out of my room."

She didn't move. She just tilted her head, studying me like I was a specimen.

"Are you going to tell him to leave me?" she asked. "Because I don't think he will. He doesn't care about you, Ymir. He never did. You were just—"

"Convenient." I finished her sentence. "I know. He told me."

Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise again. She hadn't expected me to be so calm.

"Well, then." She smoothed her dress. "I suppose we understand each other."

"I understand you perfectly." I walked to the door. Opened it. "Now get out of my room before I scream."

She walked past me. Paused in the doorway.

"You know, you really should be nicer to me," she said. "I could make your life very difficult if I wanted to."

"You already did."

She smiled. That same slow, deliberate smile from the study.

"This is just the beginning."

And then she was gone.

I closed the door. Leaned against it. My heart was pounding so fast I thought it would burst.

She was right. This was just the beginning.

She wasn't going to stop. She was going to keep pushing, keep taking, keep breaking me until there was nothing left.

And I couldn't do anything to stop her.

Or so I thought.

A few hours later, I found myself in the attic.

I didn't know why I went up there. I was just walking. Aimless. Drifting through the pack house like a ghost. My feet carried me up the narrow stairs before I could think about it.

The attic was dusty. Full of old boxes and forgotten furniture. Things nobody wanted anymore. Things that had been replaced by something better.

I understood that feeling.

I was about to leave when something caught my eye. A small box in the corner, half-hidden behind an old trunk. It was covered in dust, like it hadn't been touched in years.

I walked over. Knelt down. Brushed the dust off the lid.

There was a letter inside. Addressed to me.

To Ymir.

My hands were shaking as I opened it. The paper was old. Yellowed. The handwriting was elegant—a woman's hand, I thought. Delicate but firm. Like she was used to being heard.

Dear Ymir,

If you're reading this, then the time has come for you to know the truth. You are not who you think you are.

You are not just a Luna. You are not just a wife. You are something much more important. Something the world forgot.

There is a mark on your shoulder. A birthmark. You've always thought it was just a mark, nothing more.

But it's not. It's proof of who you really are. Proof of your family. Proof of your power.

Your real name is not Ymir Fritz. It's Ymir Drakos. And you are the last of your bloodline.

Your family was powerful. Feared. Respected. They were the protectors of a secret that could change everything. And they were killed for it.

You were hidden away as a child to protect you. To keep you safe until you were ready to know the truth.

But there are people who want to find you. People who want to use you. People who will stop at nothing to get what you have.

The mark on your shoulder is the key. When the time comes, it will show you the way.

Stay hidden. Stay quiet. Don't trust anyone.

Until you're ready.

Your mother,

Seraphina Drakos

I stared at the letter. Read it three times. Five times.

My mother.

I'd never known my mother. I'd grown up with a foster family. I'd been told my parents died in a fire when I was a baby. I'd never had a reason to question it.

But now—

I touched my shoulder. The birthmark. The one I'd always thought was ugly. The one I'd tried to hide for years.

It was warm under my fingers.

Just like it had been in the kitchen that night. Just like it had been every time I'd felt something stir inside me.

I read the letter again. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely hold the paper.

You are not who you think you are.

Your real name is Ymir Drakos.

You are the last of your bloodline.

I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know what power I was supposed to have. I didn't know who wanted to find me or why.

But I knew one thing: I wasn't just the rejected Luna anymore.

I was something more.

And Marilyn thought she'd won? She thought she'd taken everything from me?

She hadn't taken anything yet. She'd just woken something up.

I folded the letter carefully. Placed it in my pocket, close to my chest.

Then I walked back down the stairs. Past the study where Ezekiel was working. Past the kitchen where Marilyn was making dinner. Past the garden where Ziki was playing.

I walked right past all of them.

And I smiled.

For the first time in days, I smiled. A real smile. One that reached my eyes.

Because for the first time in a long time, I had hope.

I didn't know who I was yet. I didn't know what I was capable of. But I was going to find out.

And when I did—

They wouldn't see me coming.