Chapter 2

The rumors spread like wildfire overnight.

“Jackson’s mate refuses to breed.” The whispers rode the wind across territories.

I sent out scouts. The gossip was vicious.

“Did Alanna really take blockers? Did the Silvermoon Pack choose a barren mate?”

“What a hypocrite. She ignores her duty.”

“She probably cannot even have pups. The herbs are just an excuse.”

Someone spread the edited recording. They weaponized my words.

The gossip among the rogue wolves was even worse.

“If you are barren, just admit it. Stop hiding behind ‘freedom’.”

“She used the herbs as a cover story. She tricked Jackson into mating her.”

“She is just a social climber...”

In my last life, Bianca faced this fire.

She was the one childless for three years.

My soft heart shielded her. The flames engulfed me instead.

She used my ruined reputation as a stepping stone. She became the perfect, praised future Luna.

This time, I knew better.

How could a private feast conversation cross borders overnight?

Bianca was guiding this.

Bianca. You really went all in.

That night, Jackson wrapped his arms around me from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder. He let out a low growl.

“Alanna, is it true? You do not want a pup?”

He paused, his voice softening.

“If that is what you really want, I will take you away. We can start our own pack.”

I turned around. I cupped his face. I forced him to look at me.

“Of course I want your pups. Our pups.”

“Father gave us a chance. We cannot let it go.”

The wildness in his eyes slowly faded. He kissed my forehead, hard.

I leaned against his chest. But my heart was a frozen lake.

The pack’s power balance was long overdue for a change.

Father talked about laws. But he only wanted absolute control.

Julian was weak. Father could rule through him. Jackson was too strong. Father feared Jackson’s bloodline would steal his power. So, he protected Julian.

Julian controlled the timberlands. But Bianca controlled Julian. She packed the ranks with her own relatives.

The timberlands bled money. They were hollowed out from the inside.

Meanwhile, Jackson and I managed the mines and the warriors. We grew stronger every day.

And the key to it all was Bianca’s empty womb.

Because she could not conceive, she clung to the "firstborn rule." She held the succession hostage.

No one could get past her.

These days, she played her part perfectly.

In front of Father, she drank dark, bitter herbs every day. She forced tears into her eyes.

“Father, my body fails you.”

Father praised her loyalty. He comforted her.

“Take your time. Do not harm your body.”

But behind his back, she whispered poison. She told him I humiliated him at the feast.

She wanted me branded as a traitor.

But I was not worried.

She had no proof. And Father favored his firstborn.

Exposing her now would just look like jealousy.

This time, I needed a fatal blow.

In my previous life, after Bianca died, her secret medical file surfaced during asset division.

The diagnosis was clear in black and white: permanent infertility. Her womb was ruined by promiscuity at the Academy.

The clinic’s name, the doctor, the location, the date—I had burned it all into my memory.

In this life, I used my family pack’s influence. I secretly tracked down that underground clinic. Using my memories, I bought a copy of her confidential records.

The diagnosis matched perfectly.

I held the file close. My palm burned.

This was my trump card.

Back at our house, I opened a moonstone-inlaid wooden box. I hid the file in the bottom compartment.

The lock clicked shut.

I stared at the box. My gaze turned to ice.

Bianca, your filth will not touch me this time.

Whoever’s bloodline runs dry is the one who loses power.