Chapter 3: I Stopped Obeying

POV: GUINE

My family called me selfish for refusing to pay their debts, but not one of them asked why I had spent my entire first life paying them.

By mid-afternoon, news of my signed rejection declaration had spread through the Moonstar estate like wildfire. I had barely finished packing my private ledgers into an iron-bound chest when my mother, Lady Vespera, and my uncle, Lord Reginald, burst into my quarters without knocking.

"Guine! Have you completely lost your mind?" my mother cried, her voice rising to a sharp screech as she swept into the room, her heavy silk gown rustling loudly. "You dare publicly humiliate Alpha Kael? You speak of formal mate rejection as if your marriage were a childish game!"

Uncle Reginald slammed the heavy oak door shut behind them, his round face flushed with rage. "You are destroying this family's future over a petty marital disagreement! Kael is a powerful Alpha. Do you have any idea what will happen if the Draven household withdraws its financial protection from our line?"

I stood beside my writing desk, slowly smoothing down the front of my charcoal velvet dress. I looked at both of them, feeling an eerie sense of detachment.

In my first life, this exact dynamic had controlled me completely. I had worked endlessly to keep my relatives comfortable, quietly liquidating my own assets to pay off Uncle Reginald's foolish investments and smoothing over my mother’s lavish spending. I had genuinely believed that family loyalty was a sacred duty. In return, they had treated my generosity as an endless obligation, draining me dry right up until the day they watched Kael leave me behind to die.

I recognized the manipulation immediately, and it no longer had any power over me.

"My decision is final," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "The rejection ritual takes place tomorrow morning."

"You selfish, ungrateful girl!" Uncle Reginald roared, taking an aggressive step forward. "You will cancel this madness right now! I have urgent financial obligations due by the end of the week. You promised to cover the trade draft from the southern house!"

"I promised nothing," I replied, holding his furious gaze. "And I will no longer be paying your gambling debts, Uncle. Not now, not ever."

He choked on his breath, his eyes bulging in sheer shock.

Before he could shout again, a sickening wave of sound surged into my mind. My new ability forced its way through the air, laying bare the ugly truth behind their red faces.

(If she doesn't sign that draft today, the creditors will seize my estate by Friday! Uncle Reginald’s unspoken thoughts screamed in his mind, wild with panic. I already promised them Guine’s personal gold as collateral! She has to submit!)

Beside him, my mother’s silent thoughts were just as cold.

(If she leaves Kael, my invitation to the high-society winter galas will be revoked. I will be laughed out of the noble circles. She must be forced to apologize to him, even if she has to crawl on her knees.)

Their spoken accusations suddenly seemed pitiful compared to their ugly, unguarded thoughts.

"Guine, think of your family!" my mother pressed, placing a heavily ringed hand over her heart, trying to squeeze out a tear. "Kael is a good man. Whatever small mistake he has made, a proper Luna forgives her Alpha."

"A small mistake?" A cold smile touched my lips. "Tell me, Mother, if my money is meant for the family's honor, why did Uncle Reginald's trade report state that the draft was for grain, when the ledgers show it was sent directly to a card house in the upper district?"

Uncle Reginald gasped, stumbling back a step. "I... that is a lie! Who told you such slander?"

"I know how to read ledgers, Uncle. And I know how to track where gold goes," I said softly, watching his excuses collapse under the weight of his own panic. "Furthermore, I have already issued strict orders to the head steward. Effective immediately, no supplies, grain, or funds from my family's stores are to be sent to Kael's relatives without my written authorization."

"You can't do that!" Uncle Reginald barked, his voice cracking. "Those stores belong to the family!"

"They belong to the Ravenshade name," I corrected him sharply. "Which is mine alone. Now leave my room."

He sputtered, looking to my mother for help, but she was staring at me as if I had suddenly transformed into a stranger. Realizing they would get nothing more from me, Uncle Reginald let out an angry curse, pulled my mother by the arm, and stormed out, slamming the door hard behind them.

Once they were gone, I walked toward my adjoining dressing room to inspect my belongings. My brow furrowed as I opened the heavy wooden wardrobes and storage chests. Several large velvet boxes that contained my personal jewelry, rare books, and ancestral Ravenshade documents were missing.

I pulled the velvet bell cord to summon the senior housekeeper, Mrs. Gable.

The older woman entered a moment later, bowing nervously. "You called for me, Lady Guine?"

"Where are the storage chests that were kept in the corner cabinet?" I asked, keeping my tone clipped. "The ones containing my mother's heirloom silver and my private records."

Mrs. Gable swallowed hard, fidgeting with her apron. "Lady Vespera instructed us to move them to her carriage earlier this afternoon, my Lady. She said... she said you would no longer be needing them here."

They had already begun plundering my property before I had even left the building.

"Fetch them back immediately, Mrs. Gable," I commanded, my voice cold as ice. "Every single box. If they are not back in this room within twenty minutes, I will have the pack guards arrest you and my mother for theft of private Ravenshade property."

The housekeeper's face drained of all color. "I... right away, Lady Guine!" She hurried out of the room, tripping over her skirt in her haste.

Within fifteen minutes, every stolen box was returned to my quarters. I spent the remainder of the evening carefully auditing my personal property, separating every shred of Ravenshade wealth from the Moonstar Pack's possessions, and packing them securely into heavy traveling trunks.

Before the sun set completely, I sat at my writing desk, sealed a letter with wax, and dispatched a private courier to the local magistrate responsible for recording formal mate rejections. I needed the legal proceedings locked in stone before Kael or my family could orchestrate a scheme to stop me.

I sat by the window, watching the pale moonlight pool across the floor. In less than fifty days, that same light would curdle into a poisonous nightmare, but tonight, I was fighting a different kind of monster.

A quiet knock sounded at my door near midnight. A young page boy slipped a letter under the frame and hurried away.

I picked it up and broke the seal.

The magistrate’s reply arrived shortly before midnight.

My rejection has been accepted for formal proceedings, but Kael has submitted a counterpetition accusing me of emotional instability and demanding that my finances be placed under family supervision.