Chapter 5

Simone’s POV

“Did you honestly think I would let you steal my life without a fight?”

The words hung in the air, sharp enough to cut. I stood at the edge of the dais, my breath hitching as I surveyed the crowd. Everyone looked at me with wide, pitying eyes. My sister, Scout, stood before the altar in my dress. It was a beautiful gown, silk and lace, but on her, it looked like a stolen prize.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the physical pain I had carefully manufactured. I adjusted my posture, favouring my left leg. Every inch of my body ached from where I had slammed myself into the brick wall of the pantry, but the dull throb was worth it.

Father pushed through the throng of pack members. His face was pale, his eyes darting between me and the altar. He reached out, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to pull Scout away from the judgment of the crowd.

“Wait,” Father said. His voice cracked. “There must be some misunderstanding. Scout would never do this.”

I let out a shaky, jagged breath. I leaned into Mother, who stood like a stone pillar at my side. She smelled of sharp perfume and cold ambition.

“Would she not, Father?” I whispered, loud enough for those nearby to catch.

Mother stepped forward, her hand gripping my shoulder with enough force to bruise. She glared at him. “Look at your daughter, Alpha. Look at her face. Look at the dress she ruined. Do you really want to defend the girl who did this to her own blood?”

Father looked at me. He saw the purple blooming on my cheekbone. He saw the torn lace at my collar. He hesitated, his jaw working as he tried to find words. The silence stretched thin, punctuated only by the low, angry growls rising from the back of the room.

“Simone,” he said, his voice dropping to a plea. “Are you certain about this?”

I let a single tear slide down my cheek. It felt cold against my skin. I made sure my lip trembled, just the right amount to look fragile.

“Are you seriously questioning her right now?” Mother snapped. Her voice dripped with pure vitriol. “She is your legitimate daughter. She is the one who was beaten and locked away while this girl stood here waiting to take her place. You are going to choose the omega who did this?”

The murmurs in the hall turned into a roar. Several of the pack elders shook their heads, their expressions hardening. Father looked as if he had been slapped. He shrank back, his shoulders slumped under the weight of their collective disdain. I had won. He could not protect her, not while I was standing here as the living, breathing evidence of her supposed betrayal.

I took a shaky step toward Scout. Each movement was deliberate. I stopped a few feet from her, letting my limp be painfully obvious. Scout looked small. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth slightly parted as if she were trying to breathe underwater.

“What did I do to deserve this, little sister?” I asked. My voice broke, cracking perfectly at the end.

I thought about the years of being second best. I thought about the way Father looked at her mother, the way he ignored the rules to keep her around. A surge of genuine, hot resentment washed over me, and it made the next part easy.

“I loved you,” I said, sobbing now. I let my hands drop to my sides. “I tried so hard to be a good sister. Even when I knew where you came from, I welcomed you. I even asked you to be my bridesmaid. I wanted you to share this day with me.”

I felt the crowd shifting. The women in the front row were dabbing their eyes. One of them let out a soft, sympathetic cry.

“I trusted you,” I continued. I took another step closer, my gaze locked on Scout’s horrified face. “I thought we were finally past the lies.”

My knees buckled. It was a practised motion, a graceful surrender to the gravity of my grief. I felt the air leave my lungs, and for a second, the world tilted sideways. I was falling, but I was not afraid.

Mother was there, her arms wrapping around me before I could hit the floor.

“Simone!” she screamed. The sound echoed off the high rafters. “Somebody help! She is fainting!”

I let my head loll back. I closed my eyes, slipping into the dark comfort of the lie. Through my eyelashes, I caught one last glimpse of Scout. She looked shattered. She looked like a ghost standing in the middle of a celebration.

She stood there, frozen and mute, while the world turned against her. I let a small, dark smile touch my lips, hidden from everyone but the cold, hard floor.

“You finally see it, don't you, Scout?”