My Own Family Chose Her Over Me

My wolf whimpered. I was staring at the screen. At the family group chat. The one I wasn't in.

My phone buzzed violently in my hand.

I took a deep breath, forcing the tremor out of my voice before I answered.

“Harper,” my mother’s voice commanded. Like she owned me. “Get that deep blue couture gown out of your closet. I’ve already sent a maid to pick it up.”

“That’s my gown,” I said, my voice numb. “I had it custom-made for the Alliance gala.”

“I know,” she cut me off. “But you can’t go now. Vivienne is representing the pack, and she has nothing suitable to wear. You’re her older sister. Can’t you just let her have it?”

“The gown? Is that all you want me to ‘let her have’?” My grip tightened on the phone.

There was a pause.

“Why are you being so petty all of a sudden?” Her voice shot up. “You were born with a pure bloodline, you’re our strongest warrior. Vivienne is just a fragile Omega! Shouldn’t you be the one to protect her?”

“I’m your daughter,” I bit out, a bitter sting in my eyes.

“And because you’re my daughter, I expect you to act like a Luna!” she snapped.

“I haven't forgotten how you 'accidentally' pushed her down the stairs last year. She nearly broke her neck, and yet she still begged us not to punish you! Can't you show a little grace in return?”

My grip tightened on the phone.

The stairs.

Vivienne had deliberately thrown herself down those steps the moment my parents walked in, just to frame me.

Over the years, she had orchestrated incident after incident—fake tears, self-inflicted injuries, stolen belongings planted in my room—slowly painting me as a jealous, aggressive bully, and herself as the innocent, abused victim.

And my family fell for it every single time.

Before I could defend myself, she changed the subject. “We’ll be home late tonight. We’ll bring you back your favorite Black Forest cake. Be a good girl and stop bothering Vivienne.”

Beep—beep—

She hung up on me.

I stood in the empty living room, staring at the half-open door to my closet.

The deep blue gown hung there. A giant, mocking joke.

My mind flashed back to the night before the trials.

I had trained relentlessly for a year for that single spot in the Werewolf Alliance’s strategy department.

But the day before the trial, my mother brought me a bowl of soup.

A profound weakness washed over me. I couldn’t even hold my wolf form.

I was curled up in bed, writhing in pain, and missed the trial.

Zane had sat by my bedside the whole time.

He held my hand, his eyes filled with heartache and devotion.

“It’s okay, Harper,” he’d whispered, kissing my forehead. “Even without the Alliance, you’ll be the pack’s most honored Luna. I’ll protect you forever.”

I’d been moved to tears, thinking it was just a damned, tragic accident.

But now, the cold words in the group chat ripped that lie to shreds.

It wasn't an accident.

My parents drugged me. They did it for Vivienne. They promised her the spot all along.

And Zane’s heartfelt comfort? A performance. A lie to keep me calm and hide the truth.

They had crushed everything I’d worked for, all for that pathetic, play-acting Omega.

My wolf howled in my soul. A sharp, mocking pain shot through the mate bond.

I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone onto the sofa.

The screen lit up again. A social media notification.

My face was a mask of ice as I swiped it open.

It was a post from Vivienne’s private account.

A brand-new photo.

The background was a VIP booth at the city’s top Michelin-star restaurant.

In the picture, my father held a wine glass, his face beaming with fatherly pride.

My mother was leaning over, cutting Vivienne’s steak for her.

And my fated mate, Zane, was looking at Vivienne with a doting, possessive gaze, his hand resting casually on the back of her chair.

The caption read: “A happy family of four. Thank you, Moon Goddess, for giving me the most loving parents and Alpha in the world.”

A family of four.

Her most loving Alpha.

I stared at the words, not shedding a single tear.

I just felt sick. Utterly disgusted.

Without hesitating, I liked the post from my official account.

And I left a comment. “Congratulations. The couture gown is on my bed. Don’t forget to pick it up.”

Sent.

Less than ten seconds later.

The page refreshed. “This post has been deleted by the author.”

She was panicking.

Just then, my phone rang again, its ringtone sharp and piercing.

Vivienne’s name flashed on the screen.

I leaned back on the sofa, coldly pressed ‘accept,’ and put it on speaker.

Vivienne’s pathetic voice whimpered through the phone. A perfect performance of panic and hurt.

“Sister, please don’t mind that post. I was just fooling around. Zane and my parents were only celebrating my acceptance into the Alliance…”