1. ACCUSED.

MELISSA.

“Wakey, wakey!!” Bella’s voice rang out, sharp and insistent, slicing straight through my sleep like an alarm I hadn’t set.

I groaned and buried my face deeper into the pillow, the fabric muffling my next words. “Can’t you just let me sleep…” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

My body felt heavy, limbs sluggish as I curled in on myself, drawing my knees to my chest and rolling from one side of the bed to the other like a restless child refusing to wake up. Sleep clung to me stubbornly, warm and tempting, and I wanted nothing more than to sink back into it.

“Dummy,” Bella scoffed, completely unimpressed by my struggle. “It’s the Alphas’ coronation today. Wouldn’t you want to take a closer look at your lovers?”

That did it.

The moment the words Alpha triplets slipped from her mouth, my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I shot upright as though invisible strings had yanked me from the mattress. Sleep evaporated instantly. Panic flared hot and fast. I lunged toward Bella and clamped a hand over her mouth, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.

“Are you crazy?” I hissed under my breath, eyes darting around the room as if the walls themselves might be listening. My grip tightened just enough to silence her completely.

No one—no one—knew about my secret admiration for the Alpha triplets except Bella, and it had to stay that way. It had to.

Slowly, memories crept in, unwelcome and sharp. Amelia. My twin sister. Beautiful, adored Amelia. She had always been possessive of the Alphas, as if they were something she owned. I could still remember the way she had bullied girls who dared to openly confess their feelings for them, how ruthless she had been, how cruel. I had already endured enough living in her shadow, always compared, always lacking. I wouldn’t survive her wrath if she ever found out about my feelings for the Alpha triplets.

Amelia was lucky—painfully lucky. The Alphas were always at her beck and call, their attention effortlessly drawn to her. Every time I saw them together, laughter shared so easily, something twisted painfully in my chest. My heart ached in ways I never dared speak aloud. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing how foolish it was, my heart still beat for them. Quietly. Hopelessly. I wished, with every fiber of my being, that the Moon Goddess would choose me as their mate.

“Hey,” Bella said gently once I finally released her, her tone softer now, more careful. “Get ready. Remember, they’re choosing their mate today. It’s tradition.”

Her words snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. My breath caught.

Oh. Right.

How could I forget something so important? My hands trembled slightly as reality settled in. Today wasn’t just a coronation—it was that day. The day everything could change.

Moon Goddess, I prayed silently, closing my eyes as my heart thudded wildly. Please… choose me.

Because I wasn’t sure I could keep living if the bond chose someone else.

“Mel…is…s…aaaaaa…aa… Hurry!”

Bella’s voice sliced through the thick morning silence, stretched and breathless, rising and falling as if she were already running while calling my name. It dragged me out of my thoughts and sent a sharp jolt through my body.

I didn’t waste a second. I dashed into the bathroom, splashing water on my face with trembling hands, pulling on my clothes in frantic, careless motions. Buttons were fastened wrongly, hair barely tamed, but I didn’t stop. I rushed out, my heart pounding hard against my ribs, and dashed alongside my friend toward the venue, our footsteps echoing with urgency.

From afar, my eyes caught sight of my father. He was seated elegantly, posture straight, presence commanding even from a distance. The familiar fear curled tightly in my chest, rooting me to the spot. My steps slowed until I stopped completely, my fingers curling into my palms.

I stayed where I was, waiting impatiently, nerves coiling tighter with every passing second as I waited for the ceremony to begin. Then suddenly, Amelia came forward. She struck me hard as she passed by, her shoulder slamming into mine without pause.

The force from the hit sent me off balance, and I fell hard to the ground.

“Melissa, could you at least watch where you’re going?”

The words hit me sharp and sudden, like a slap I hadn’t seen coming. I lifted my gaze to her face, taking in the tightness around her mouth, the spark of accusation already burning in her eyes. For a brief second, a dozen responses crowded my mind, sharp, defensive, angry, but I swallowed every single one of them.

Instead, I stared at her and made a deliberate choice to ignore her.

I wasn’t fully ready to entertain one of those tantrums again. I could already recognize the pattern, the way her voice always rose, the way the situation was always twisted until I somehow became the villain. We were outside, surrounded by people, and I reminded myself that I needed to keep my cool. Losing control here would only give her exactly what she wanted.

The irony of it all made my jaw tighten. She had clearly been the one who bumped into me—her shoulder brushing mine with unnecessary force, her steps careless and rushed. I had barely recovered my balance before she turned on me, quick to accuse, quicker to blame. As usual.

I said nothing.

My silence seemed to irritate her more than any argument ever could. I could feel the anger coiling up within her, thick and restless, the way a storm gathers pressure before breaking. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling as if she were holding back something far worse.

Then she snapped.

“You thief!” she shouted at the top of her voice.

The word echoed, loud and ugly, slicing through the air and drawing attention like a knife. Conversations around us faltered. Heads turned. I felt the heat of stares settle on my skin, heavy and uncomfortable.

That was when I saw my father stand up.

The moment her voice rang out, he pushed himself to his feet, concern etched across his face as he stepped forward. My heart skipped, dread pooling in my stomach as I realized he was already moving toward us, already involved.

“How could you steal my necklace?” she continued, her voice trembling with outrage as she pointed an accusing finger straight at me.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react. A necklace? The accusation felt so sudden, so absurd, that confusion eclipsed my anger. I frowned slightly, searching her face for some hint that this was a joke, some sign that she would laugh and admit she’d gone too far.

There was none.

“What necklace?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it, curiosity and disbelief taking over.

By then, my father was already standing right in front of me. His presence was solid, imposing, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked between the two of us. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, every second stretching painfully longer than the last.

“Dad!” she cried, seizing the moment, her finger stabbing the air in my direction. “Melissa stole my necklace!”

Her words hung there, heavy and damning, as all eyes turned to me, waiting and within a split second I heard a loud sound.

*Crack.*