Chapter 3

Gasps and excited murmurs swam among the gathered crowd.

“A female wolf is pregnant? Does that mean things are finally getting better?”

“An heir, finally…”

“The breeder couldn't do it.”

“Of course not. She’s only human.”

The whispers cut deep, each one feeling like her chest was being clawed out by the sharpest claws. Daphne stared at Storm, quietly pleading for him to look at her, to deny it, to do anything. But his eyes stayed fixed on Katerina. His large hand gently covered Katerina’s own over her stomach, in a touch so tender it felt like acid being poured over Daphne’s heart. The tray slipped from her numb fingers.

Glass shattered against the marble floor, the beautiful cake she had made smashing into pieces. The loud crash stopped the entire celebration, leading every turned head toward her.

Storm’s dark eyes finally met hers. There was no comfort there, only a flash of irritation, as if she were an embarrassment he had to deal with at the worst possible time.

Daphne stood frozen among the mess, unable to look at Katerina’s face. She didn’t need to see the smug smile she knew was there.

“Vivi? Where is that girl?” Morwen called out. When the maid didn't appear, she snapped her fingers at one of the cleaners. “You, Kingsley. Make sure the breeder gets back to her room safely before she causes any more of a scene. She looks unwell, and we don’t need anything ruining this celebration.”

Daphne held Storm’s stare, her lips trembling as she fought to keep her face composed. Was he really going to stand there and let his stepmother speak to her like that? In front of everyone?

Storm’s jaw clenched as if he were grinding his teeth to dust, but he said nothing.

Kingsley stepped forward, reaching out to grab Daphne’s arm to haul her away. Usually, Storm would roar at any man who dared touch her, but today, he didn’t say a word.

Katerina leaned more into him, acting faint and tired, and he shifted his attention back to supporting her.

Daphne yanked her arm free from the cleaner’s grip. “Don’t touch me! I can walk on my own,” her fingers shook uncontrollably as she tried to gather her swimming feelings.

Kingsley frowned. “Mrs. Morwen gave orders—”

“I said, I can walk!” Daphne glared at him and then turned away before he saw the humiliated tears in her eyes.

She didn't look back, but she could feel the weight of the staff’s judgmental stares pressing her back.

Daphne sat on the edge of the mattress, still wearing the soft blue dress she chose with foolish hope that morning. Her hands lay limp in her lap. The floor was a minefield of the crumpled tissues she used to wipe her tears.

Downstairs, the sounds of the celebration were finally fading into a dull hum.

One more tear fell down her cheek and then another. She wiped them away roughly with the back of her hand, angry at herself.

“Don’t you dare cry over him,” she whispered fiercely. “Or over her.”

Crying wouldn’t fix anything. She had babies to think about now. Two little heartbeats that needed her strong, not falling apart. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat and forced herself to stand.

The vanity mirror on the far wall caught her reflection. Daphne stepped closer, staring at the woman looking back at her. Her long, ginger hair was a mess, and her pale skin looked washed out under the warm lights. Her blue eyes, usually so bright, were bloodshot and glassy.

She ran a hand down her body noticing how different she looked from the starving, hollow-cheeked girl Storm had brought home from the slums years ago. Her curves had filled out, her waist stayed slim, and her breasts had grown fuller with the pregnancy.

People called her beautiful, often admiring the pout of her lips or the fire in her hair, but right now, none of that helped smoothen things.

Beauty didn't matter when your opponent was Katerina Balvini. Katerina was the perfect choice, daughter of Alpha Dom Balvini who was the ruler of the powerful Mistmoon Pack, one of the biggest packs in the north.

Daphne pressed a hand to her stomach. “What happens to us now?”

Fear twisted in her chest right alongside the heartbreak. Would they throw her out tonight? Send her back to the Greyford Slums where she’d have to fight for every scrap again? The thought made her stomach turn. She couldn’t let that happen.

Daphne rolled her shoulders back, brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and took a deep, shaky breath. “You’ve survived worse,” she told her reflection quietly. “You survived losing Mom and Dad over a meaningless fight. You can survive this too.”

Storm didn’t know about the twins. If he knew they were healthy and strong, maybe the man who once carried her out of that forest and promised her safety would come back.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. “I have to tell him,”

She turned for the door, but she didn't even make it halfway down the hall.

“Going somewhere?” Lady Morwen stood at the end of the corridor, a thin leather folder tucked under her arm. Her smile was polite on the surface, but her eyes were devilish.

Daphne straightened her spine. “I need to speak with Storm.”

“How unfortunate. He’s quite occupied with more important matters right now.” Morwen replied.

“I’ll wait.”

Morwen stepped closer and held out the folder. “That won’t be necessary. Sign this.”

Daphne took it, frowning. “What is it?”

“Your release. The breeder contract is being terminated, effective immediately.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Daphne opened the folder with shaky fingers. The Blood Shadow Pack seal was stamped clearly at the bottom, but when her eyes found the signature…

It wasn't Storm's.

She’d seen Storm sign hundreds of documents. His handwriting was impatient, heavy-handed, and messy at the edges. This signature was too neat. A fake.

Daphne was relieved but also angry. “You expect me to sign this?”

“You’ve served your purpose,” Morwen said with a shrug. “There’s no point in dragging this out and embarrassing yourself further when you have nothing left to offer.”

Daphne felt heat rise in her chest. “You had nothing to offer either. You didn’t even give birth to Storm. A human like me did.”

Morwen’s face flushed red. “Ungrateful little brat! Aren’t you ashamed to live on someone else’s money and property? I won’t ask again. Sign it and get out.”

Daphne looked Morwen dead in the eye, took the papers, and tore them down the middle, then tore them again.

“No.” Daphne let the white scraps flutter to Morwen’s expensive shoes. “If Storm wants me gone, he can look me in the eye and say it himself. He doesn't need his stepmother to do the dirty work.”