C-3

Chelsea Wren POV

“Look who finally decided to show her face.”

Cressida’s voice floats from the living room the second Chelsea pushes open the door of the pack residence.

Gideon Wren sits between Prudence and Cressida like the three of them form a perfect little pack. Laughter still hangs in the air. Chelsea’s wolf bristles hard. She shuts the door and heads straight for the stairs without a word.

“Stop right there.” Gideon’s shout cracks across the room.

Chelsea turns halfway. “What do you want?”

“You vanished all night and stroll in like this house is a hotel. No greeting. No respect. Do you have any love left for your family?”

Chelsea’s laugh is pure ice. “Family? My mother is long gone. The male who calls himself my father might as well be dead too.”

Gideon slams his palm on the table. “How dare you, ungrateful girl!”

Cressida rubs his back with soft, practiced care. “Dad, don’t let her get to you.”

Prudence rises, voice dripping false concern. “Chelsea, that is no way to speak to your father. Look at your sister. Why can’t you learn from her?”

Chelsea’s smile turns sharp. “Learn what exactly? How to steal another female’s mate, or how to smile while you do it?”

Cressida’s face tightens. Prudence’s eyes flash.

“Chelsea, how can you say that about your own sister?” Prudence’s voice rises.

“I am the only pup my mother ever carried. I have no sister. Some desperate female used every dirty trick to pull a mated male away from his true partner. You took my father. Your daughter took the male I was supposed to claim. Like mother, like daughter. Both of you collect other wolves’ mates.”

Prudence’s cheeks burn red. “I have given everything to this household. I am not your blood mother but I am still pack. How dare you call me—”

“You are not pack. You are the shame my father dragged through the door. Lipstick on a pig does not make it a Luna.”

Prudence’s whole body shakes. Cressida steps in close, voice dropping so only Chelsea can hear.

“Interesting speech, Chelsea. You keep calling us the whores. But what does that make you? You could not even hold your own male. I never stole him. Everett came begging. One night was enough. He is already mine.”

Chelsea freezes.

Cressida’s next words land like claws. “I am carrying his pup. Your years together mean nothing. He loved you once. So what? I crooked a finger and he fell. Dad will hear the news today. We will announce the new mate bond soon. You will be erased.”

The room tilts. Chelsea’s wolf snarls so loud inside her skull she almost shifts on the spot. She turns, takes the stairs two at a time, changes out of the ruined white gown, and leaves the house before anyone can stop her.

Wrencrest Media House is already in full chaos when she walks in. The morning pack meeting is half over. The Pack Administrator’s glare pins her the second she sits.

“Wren, if your head is somewhere else, do us all a favor and stay home. We do not pay for daydreams.”

Honora Finch catches Chelsea’s eye across the table. The second the meeting ends, Honora hooks her arm and drags her straight to the nearest café.

“Talk. Now. You tried on the gown with Everett yesterday. Today you look like someone ripped your heart out. What happened?”

Chelsea’s control snaps. Tears she has held since last night spill hard.

Honora’s face goes white. “Chelsea. Breathe. Tell me.”

The whole ugly story pours out. The car. The call. The pregnancy claim. Every word.

Honora slams her palm on the table hard enough to rattle the cups. “That half-blood bitch. And Everett. Scum. I always knew something was off about him. I should have ripped his throat out the first time he looked at Cressida.”

Chelsea wipes her face with the back of her hand. “He knew how much I hated her. That is what cuts deepest.”

Honora leans in, eyes fierce. “Listen to me. Better you found out now than after the full moon sealed you to a traitor. You are stronger than both of them combined.”

Chelsea’s voice drops low and steady. “I am fine. Or I will be. Sooner or later Cressida and Everett will regret every second they treated me like prey.”

Honora opens her mouth to answer, but Chelsea’s phone lights up on the table between them.

A new message sits on the screen from an unknown number.

Luna Crowhurst. Estate. Sundown. Do not be late.

Chelsea Wren POV

“Move. Let me see.”

A pack of reporters cluster around one screen the second Chelsea and Honora step back into Wrencrest Media House. Voices overlap, sharp and greedy.

“This male was supposed to be the perfect heir. Look at him now.”

“Three hours in a hotel room with that female. The photos are crystal.”

“Everett Sloan’s image is finished. Prince of the Sloan pack, caught like a common rogue.”

One reporter waves them over. “Chelsea, Honora, get over here. Big story just dropped. Young Alpha of the Sloan pack spent the afternoon locked in a hotel room with a bar girl.”

Chelsea’s steps slow. Honora’s hand clamps her wrist. They push through the crowd.

Clear photos fill the screen. Everett’s mouth on a female’s neck. Hands under clothes. The timestamp matches the exact window Cressida claimed the pup.

Honora’s lip curls. She yanks Chelsea away before anyone can read their faces. “We’re not feeding that mess. Sit.”

Chelsea drops into her chair. Her wolf paces under her skin, claws itching. The phone buzzes. Everett’s name.

She answers because the rage demands it.

“Chelsea, I never thought you would sink this low.” His voice is pure accusation. “This is your revenge because I chose your sister?”

Chelsea’s fingers tighten on the phone. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Drop the act. Cressida already told me everything. You found out about us and leaked the photos. You called her a bar girl and pushed the scandal while she is carrying my pup. Even if I betrayed you, this is vicious.”

Cold floods every vein. He does not apologize. He does not explain. He blames her.

Chelsea’s voice comes out flat. “Yes. I wanted payback. Tell me, Everett, in all the years I stood by you, did I ever cut you first? You chose the betrayal. I chose the consequence. Sounds fair.”

“I do not even know who you are anymore. You turned into a spiteful bitch.”

“And I never knew you would crawl into my half-blood sister’s bed. If I was not enough you could have walked away clean. Instead you humiliated me in front of the whole pack. Who is the ruthless one?”

“You will regret this.” The line dies.

Chelsea stares at the dark screen. Ten years of loyalty reduced to a joke.

Honora leans in, voice low and furious. “You should never have taken the blame. You did not leak those photos.”

“I know.” Chelsea forces air into her lungs. “I am done bleeding for him.”

Honora’s eyes narrow. “The timing is too perfect. Right after you caught them. Almost like someone wanted Everett to point the claw at you.”

Chelsea’s mind clicks into place. “Cressida. She leaked it herself. She needed him to hate me completely so I am erased from his life. She even painted herself as the bar girl to look like the victim.”

Honora’s growl is pure pack. “That snake. She will burn for this.”

Across the Alpha Commerce Quarter, inside the highest floor of Crowhurst Holdings, Angus Reid places a thin folder on the desk.

“Alpha, the full report on Luna Crowhurst.”

Alastair Crowhurst takes it without looking up from the screen. Page after page. Birth. Mother’s death. Prudence’s takeover. The years of quiet cruelty. The long engagement with Everett Sloan. The mate bond betrayal only hours old.

His jaw tightens. The temperature in the office drops.

Angus continues, careful. “One more matter. The scandal trending under Wrencrest Media House at noon. The photos were released by Cressida Wynn. Aimed directly at the Luna. The Sloan pack has already called a press gathering. It may turn ugly for her.”

Alastair’s eyes lift, cold and sharp. “Where is she?”

“Still at Wrencrest Media House.”

Silence stretches one heartbeat. Alastair stands, reaches for the black coat on the stand.

“Ready the car. Call the Pack Administrator at Wrencrest. Tell him I am coming to discuss the entertainment project he floated last moon. Now.”