Chapter five

SYLVIA POV

Darian was supposed to come with me.

We had planned it the night before: arrive together, greet my parents, endure the meal, and leave whenever I’d had enough. I’d even chosen one of my new outfits for the visit—a deep blue dress with clean lines and sleeves that fell neatly to my wrists. It made me feel composed, as if I could meet the past without letting it pull me under.

Then, just before we were due to leave, Darian’s phone rang. He listened in silence, his expression growing more serious with every passing second. When the call ended, he looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s an urgent matter at the company. I need to handle it.”

A knot tightened beneath my ribs. I told myself it was only a disappointment. That it didn’t mean anything.

“Of course,” I said. “Go take care of it.”

*You let her go, * the wolf snarled, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to shake my very bones. *You let our mate go into the lion’s den alone. Why? Because of paper? Because of numbers on a screen?

Darian's face looked tight but he seemed to have no option left. “I’ll have the driver take you. I’ll come as soon as possible!”

“You don’t need to rush.”

He studied my face, as if he wasn’t certain I meant it. I gave him a small smile, and he nodded. Then he reached for my hand.

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

His palm was warm around mine. I held on for a moment longer than necessary, surprised by how much I wanted to believe him.

*They will hurt her. That heartless bitch of a sister. They will hurt her, and you are not there to protect her. If she cries, Darian. I will never forgive you, * the wolf warned, his golden eyes flashing only a second. *I will hide in the deep and never let you shift again. You are the Alpha. Act like it.*

Darian looked at me once and then slipped his hand slipping away, the world felt quieter.

My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin. I breathed slowly, grounding myself in the present. I was not the woman who had once come here hoping her family would be proud of her. I was Sylvia Thorne. I had survived a life that should have broken me.

The sleek Audi stopped before the house.

I stepped out alone.

The front door opened almost at once. Evelyn was standing there, her arm linked through Julian’s. She was dressed in a red, elegant gown. Her gaze flicked past me toward the car, as though she expected Darian to emerge from the other side. When no one did, her smile brightened so widely it looked almost painful.

“Where’s Darian?” she asked. “Didn’t he come with you?”

“He had business,” I said simply, smoothing the skirts of my dark dress.

“Business,” Evelyn repeated, her lips twitching with a poorly concealed smirk.

*I knew it, * her thoughts drifted down to me, sharp and smug. *He really is the same cold, distant man in my first life. The shopping trip was just a fluke. A rich man’s guilt payment. He probably can’t stand the sight of her. Maybe he wanted to look generous in public, but when it comes to family, he can’t be bothered. I bet it by next month, she’ll be eating dinner alone every night while he stays at his club.*

I looked at her, keeping my expression still.

Evelyn had been waiting for this. She’d dressed for an audience, and prepared her gifts. Darian’s absence was a small opening, and she intended to widen it.

“He had work to attend to,” I said. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” she replied. “You must be used to it by now.”

I walked past them into the house. Mother hurried over, her face arranging itself into a welcoming smile. “Sylvia, darling. You’re here.”

She hugged me lightly, then looked over my shoulder. “Where’s your husband?”

“An urgent matter came up. He may join us later.”

“Ah.” Her smile dimmed for just an instant. “Well, we can’t always expect busy men to rearrange their schedules.”

*If Sylvia can’t even bring him to a family dinner, what good is marrying into wealth?*

I kept my hands folded at my waist. I had heard enough of my parents’ thoughts to know their concern was never really for me.

Father stood near the dining room with Julian. The moment he saw us, his face warmed.“Julian, my boy!” he boomed, rising to clap him on the shoulder. “And what is this?”

“Just a small token, sir,” Julian said, his voice modest, though his chest puffed out slightly as he presented the bottle of whiskey on the table. It was a mid-tier brand, the kind you buy when you want to look like you know what you’re doing but don’t have the coin to back it up.

“Julian has such good instincts,” Mother said with a wide smile. “He knows how to make people feel appreciated.”

“He’s a hardworking young man, too,” Father added. “Ambitious. He’ll do very well for himself.”

Julian ducked his head modestly. “I’m still learning.”

*He has drive,* Father thought. *With the right support, he could build something substantial.*

Evelyn sat beside him, glowing with satisfaction.

I set down my coat and took the seat Mother indicated. No one asked whether I’d brought anything. No one asked how I’d been settling in. Their attention moved around me, finding every person in the room except the daughter who had arrived alone.

Then, my mother turned to me. Her smile didn’t vanish, but it thinned, becoming a tight, bloodless line. “Sylvia. You look nice. But you have a pretty face, You should do more with it.”

I met her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’re married now,” she replied, as though that explained everything. “A wife needs to keep her husband interested. Make an effort. Wear something feminine. Be warm and attentive.”

My fingers pressed lightly against the fabric over my knee.

Father gave a short nod. “Your sister understands how to make a marriage work. You could learn from her.”

The room seemed to narrow around me. Their criticism was dressed as advice, but I knew what it was meant to do: make me doubt my place in Darian’s home, make me feel responsible for any distance between us, make me more willing to give them what they wanted.

Evelyn lowered her eyes, playing modest. “I just try to make Julian feel appreciated.”

Her thoughts were anything but modest.

I watched her smile at Julian and felt something twist inside me. Not envy. Not anymore. It was the old ache of seeing my family distribute kindness by preference, then insist I had simply failed to earn any for myself.

Father reached for his glass. “A marriage isn’t only about money. A man with a successful household still needs affection. If you’re going to keep Darian’s attention, you need to put in some effort. It’s about softness, Sylvia. If you were a little more agreeable like your sister, perhaps your husband wouldn’t be looking for excuses to stay at the office.”

*And perhaps,* my father’s thoughts rumbled, *if she actually had some influence over him, we wouldn’t be struggling with the northern shipping taxes. She needs to get him to sign that investment for Julian. If she can’t even get him to dinner, she’s useless to us.*

Mother’s thought followed.

*If Sylvia asks, they’ll give her something. She’s their daughter-in-law. It’s only fair that she helps her sister. Julian needs a proper start.*

My jaw tightened.

There it was. Beneath the compliments and the scolding, they were still planning to use me as a path to someone else’s money.

I set my water glass down. “If you want to discuss Julian’s business, you can do so with him,” I said. “I won’t ask Darian or his family for money.”

The table fell quiet.

Father stared at me, bewildered. “No one said you had to ask for anything.”

“You were thinking about it.”

A shadow crossed Mother’s expression. “Sylvia, don’t be rude.”

“I already said no. I will not ask Darian for money, and I will not give you mine.”

“Oh, Sylvia,” Evelyn sighed, her voice dripping with fake pity. She reached across the table to pat my hand, though I pulled it away before she could make contact. “You don’t have to pretend. We all know how it is. You can’t ask Darian for money because you don’t have any real standing in that mansion, do you? You’re just a decorative piece he bought from Thorne. It’s actually quite sad.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, looking my sister dead in the eye.

“I think,” Evelyn said, her voice rising with the thrill of the attack, “that you are out of your depth. You always were. You think because you have nice fur that you’re better than us, but you’re still just the girl who had to beg for her tuition.”

I looked around the table. My mother was nodding slightly, her lips pursed in disapproval. My father was already reaching for the whiskey Julian had brought, his interest in me entirely gone.

“You’re right about one thing, Evelyn,” I said, standing up. “I did beg. I begged for the things that were my right as a daughter of this house. And you all told me I was worthless.”

My mother bristled, “Sylvia, enough.”

Evelyn gave a delicate laugh. “My sister’s probably tired, mother. It must be difficult to come without her rich Alpha, especially when everyone else has their husband here.” Her eyes moved over me, then settled on my empty place at the table. “Maybe he isn’t as attentive as he appeared at the mall,” she continued. “Sister, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. It happens. Some men are generous for a day and distant the next.”

The thought behind her words rang with relief.

I looked at her. “You seem very interested in whether Darian came with me.”

Her smile faltered and she looked around. “I’m only concerned about you.”

“No,” I said. “You’re relieved.”

Evelyn’s expression stiffened. I turned to my parents. “And you’re all very interested in whether Darian will give me money to pass along to Julian.”

Father’s voice hardened. “That’s an outrageous accusation.”

“Is it?” I asked. “You just spent the first part of dinner praising Julian for being ambitious and destined for success. Now you’re criticizing me for supposedly failing to please my husband. What do you think happens next? You ask me to prove I’m a good daughter by taking money from Darian’s family for your gains?”

Mother’s cheeks flushed. “We only want the best for both of you.”

“Then why does ‘the best’ always mean that I should give something up?”

No one answered.

My voice trembled, and I hated that it did. Not because I was afraid of them, but because the girl I had once been still lived somewhere inside me. The girl who wanted her mother to defend her. The girl who wanted her father to see that she was capable. The girl who had worked herself sick and still been called useless.

I took a breath and continued. “You didn’t pay for my education. You didn’t ask how I managed or whether I was exhausted from working, and you still called me useless. You never asked what I wanted to do with what I’d learned.”

Father’s face darkened. “That was years ago.”

“Yes. And somehow you still expect me to hand over everything I earn, the opportunities I’m offered, and now the resources of my husband’s family. You expect me to make myself useful to everyone, then criticize me for not being charming enough.”

Evelyn rose halfway from her chair. “No one is forcing you to do anything!”

“Not yet,” I said. “But the moment I refuse, you twist it into a story about Darian neglecting me.”

She drew in a breath. “You’re taking this too personally.”

“I think you’re the one who took it personally when you saw Darian carrying my shopping bags.”

A flush spread up Evelyn’s neck. Julian glanced between us, his easy smile gone.

I continued, still looking at my sister. “You said you prefer a simple life. That’s your choice. But you don’t get to use it to shame me for accepting something my husband offered freely. And you don’t get to pretend you know what happens in my marriage just because you’re hoping it resembles the worst!”

Her face went pale.

I could hear the sudden churn of her thoughts, but I didn’t need to listen. For once, I didn’t need to know what she was thinking to understand what she feared: that I might see through her, that the future she had tried to steal from me wasn’t as simple as she imagined.

"Sylvia, sit down," my father commanded, his face darkening. "You're making a scene."

"No," I said. "I'm leaving."

"And go where?" Evelyn mocked. "To an empty house? Darian probably isn't even at the office. He's probably—"

The heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open with a crash that shook the china on the sideboard.

Darian stood in the doorway. His coat was unbuttoned, his dark hair slightly windblown, and his eyes were a hard, flat grey that seemed to suck all the light from the room. Behind me, I could almost see the shadow of his wolf, large and hackles raised.

"He is probably what, Evelyn?" Darian asked, his voice dangerously soft.

The color drained from my sister's face. Julian actually dropped his fork. My parents gasped in shock.