1

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I stumbled back.

My hands trembled, and the room tilted on its axis.

"Elena, calm down," I muttered, biting my lip. You have to stay calm.

It wasn't real. Marcus wouldn't do that. He loved me. He loved Rylan.

But the conversation echoed in my mind, every word a silver dagger piercing my heart.

I turned and ran for the stairs. I had to get out of there.

"Elena?" Marcus's voice called from his study, alerted by the sound. "Is that you out there?"

My pace quickened, but tears blurred my vision.

My foot missed the top step of the grand staircase, and I pitched forward.

The world tilted violently, my body tumbling, weightless. A groan of agony tore from my lips with each jarring impact, but even that pain was nothing compared to the despair crushing my soul.

"Elena!" Marcus's roar echoed through the mansion.

He was at the bottom of the stairs in seconds, catching me just before I hit the landing.

"Gods, Elena, what happened?" He knelt, pulling me into his arms. His face went pale when he saw the blood welling up around my ankle.

"I just fell," I said, instinctively trying to pull away, to stand.

"Don't move. Let me see." His hand brushed gently over my ankle.

A pained frown creased his brow. Of course. Through our mate bond, he felt a shadow of my pain.

I tried to push away the memory of what I'd heard, but just five minutes ago, this same man had been speaking coldly about making me atone for the rest of my life.

Now, he was acting like the most caring husband in the world.

The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.

"I'll get the first-aid kit." Marcus stood and quickly returned with herbs and bandages.

He helped me sit up, his movements practiced as he cleaned the wound, applied a salve, and wrapped it.

Just then, the wolf-fang pendant he never took off slipped out from under his shirt.

Under the light of the crystal chandelier, I saw the engraving on its base for the first time.

A single, deeply carved letter: C.

Not E for Elena. C for Cecilia.

My breath caught. The pendant he'd worn close to his heart for years—the one he’d had since the day we met—belonged to another woman.

"Elena? You're so pale." Marcus touched my cheek, his voice laced with concern. "Are you hurt somewhere else?"

My throat tightened.

His gentleness was a blade, twisting deeper into my heart with every soft touch.

"I'm fine," I said, pushing his hand away as I struggled to my feet. "I just… I need to lie down."

"I'll help you up."

"No," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can manage on my own."

Marcus looked at me, surprised, but didn't insist.

"Alright. Rest well. Call for me if you need anything." He caressed my cheek one last time.

I watched him walk away, the pendant already hidden again beneath his shirt—tucked safely against his heart.

I slowly made my way up the stairs.

Each step sent a spike of pain through my ankle, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing my heart apart.

Back in the bedroom, I shut the door and slid down against the cool wood.

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Rylan, covered in blood, reaching for me with his small hands and whispering, "Mommy, save me."