Chapter 2

The first thing I did after returning to our residence was to get rid of the rest of my breakfast.

Alexander came back not longer after.

Like an attentive partner, he had a bouquet of my favorite flowers, white roses still beaded with dew, in his hand.

"You look pale today, Ivy." He stepped closer, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. "How was breakfast?"

The lingering touch of his lips on my skin made my stomach turn.

Alexander knew what exactly had been in my breakfast. He knew how much wolfsbane I'd been made to swallow over the years.

And still, he could pretend to be this considerate.

"It was good. I liked it," I replied with a smile. But my gaze unconsciously drifted to the pocket of his cloak, where a strip of pale violet scarf peeked out.

My eyes widened. Delicate iris flowers were embroidered along the edge.

I recognized that scarf. It belonged to Sophia.

How blind had I been?

I suddenly felt that the wolf I had shared a bed with for years felt like a stranger.

I had always known Alexander and Sophia had dated when they were young. But after I became pregnant, she left the pack for a long time, only returning after I gave birth.

Back then, he had sworn to me that he would have nothing more to do with her. Seeing he had been unfailingly devoted to me and the pup, I generously chose to let the past go.

It turned out Sophia's departure had been to give birth to a pup who also carried Alexander's blood. It was to wait for the perfect moment.

Everything had all been a lie.

Noticing my gaze, a flicker of panic crossed Alexander's eyes.

"Oh, this?" He quickly pulled the scarf out, then casually grabbed the silver lighter from the table. "Sophia left it at the training grounds this morning. I must've picked it up by mistake."

The flame flared. In an instant, the scarf curled and blackened to ash in the firelight.

Alexander dusted off his hands and looked at me, eyes full of affection. "Ivy, you know that you're the one I love now."

Yesterday, I might have been moved by how quickly he tried to draw the line. Now, all I saw was how desperate he was to cover his tracks.

Alexander stepped forward and gently wrapped me in his arms. He rested his chin against the top of my head, and his voice was warm with a father's pride.

"You should've seen Lucas at the training grounds today. His burst strength and instincts were flawless. He's going to be a great Alpha who'll lead our Graystone pack into its golden age, just like what the prophecy says," he said.

I let Alexander hold me, my arms hanging loosely at my sides.

"Yes. He's excellent in every way," I said softly, testing him. "If only he could take after me and turn into a beautiful white wolf on the day he shifts. After all, those with white wolf blood are blessed with the protection of the Moon Goddess."

Alexander's body stiffened. Although he hid it well, I still felt the moment his muscles tensed as guilt flooded him.

Lucas wasn't my pup. He had no white wolf blood, so there was no way he would ever shift into a white wolf.

Alexander knew that better than anyone. Yet the next moment, he soothed me gently, saying, "He will. He'll be a very beautiful white wolf."

It was another lie.

Alexander released me and placed both hands on my shoulders, his gaze intent. "You have to show up at the succession ceremony tomorrow. As his mother and the Luna, you'll put the successor's token on him yourself. With the White Wolf royalty's recognition, his position will be unshakable."

"I know," I said quietly. "I'll be there tomorrow."

…

That evening, Alexander took Lucas to patrol the borders.

As the residence fell quiet, I went to the storage room alone. The things from the year I gave birth had been kept there.

I'd never dared to touch them before. A tight, suffocating ache would rise in my chest every time I got close.

Now, I realized that maybe my body had known it all along. It might have been warning me that something about that night was wrong all this while.

I dug through the yellowed baby clothes and worn strips of cloth from the bottom of the chest until my fingers finally found a bloodstained scrap of swaddling.

I picked it up, closed my eyes, and forced myself to focus on the faint scent of the pup that still lingered on it.

It wasn't Lucas at all.

The scent of the pup I had held every day for the past nine years and raised with my own hands bore no resemblance to what clung to this cloth.

Which meant my real pup had died that very night.

My grip tightened around the scrap, letting my tears slip free at last. But I quickly wiped them away.

I could cry until dawn, and it still wouldn't bring my pup back.

But tomorrow, I would make sure everyone knew that the successor they placed all their hopes on wasn't even my son.