CHAPTER 18

Serena pov

Harold had just finished speaking when Martha emerged from the house, carrying an ornate, antique jewelry box. Her face was bright with smiles. I looked at that box, and a sour ache twisted in my chest. Martha set it on the table in front of me. Harold said, "This belonged to Adrian's mother. It was meant for his future mate—the betrothal gift. It's time it passed to you." Martha beamed beside me. "Well? Don't just sit there—open it!" I lifted my hand and brushed the fine rosewood lid. My throat tightened painfully. Once, this would have made me happy. It would have meant Harold finally accepted me. Now there was only regret. I took a steadying breath and slid the box back toward him. Drawing on the composure I'd honed in years of business battles, I spoke as calmly as I could. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have to disappoint you." Martha's face fell. "What's wrong? Did you fight?" She hurried to soothe me. "Couples argue. It's normal, perfectly normal." I shook my head. "It wasn't a fight." "We've become unbound." Harold's brows drew together sharply. He studied my face, silent, testing whether I was serious. My expression gave him no room for doubt. I wasn't joking. His frown deepened, the stern lines of his face turning colder. I had no intention of lingering. As I handed the pastries to Martha, I said, "I'll send you the baker's contact later. When Harold wants more, just order online—I've already arranged it so there's no long wait." My words brought tears to Martha's eyes. "What happened between you and Adrian?" I didn't want to talk about it. I'd only come to collect the items. And, I supposed, to say goodbye. Harold and Martha had always treated me well. "Pastries are delicious, but Harold, watch your blood sugar. I've booked your check-up for next month—Healer Samuel Shaw will reach out directly." "If I have time in the future, I'll come visit." I was always thorough like that—in work and in life. I didn't say anything more sentimental. After taking the supplements from Martha, I left. "How could this happen?" Martha murmured, saddened. "Everything was fine…" … Once in the car, I calculated the drive. From the Hall house back to the pack office, I'd arrive right around lunchtime. I planned to eat there—my medicine was at the office too. Two days earlier, while getting the wound on my forearm treated, I'd run into Henry—the healer I'd stood up before. He'd dragged me into his office for a proper exam. The results weren't good. He told me my body was severely depleted after the miscarriage, and my stomach was in poor shape. It would take serious time to recover. First priority: eat on schedule, take the medicine. Strictly. He'd even made me promise. I'd kept to it these past two days, and today would be no different. But halfway back, Adrian called. He told me to bring the items straight to him. I asked where he was. He said out for lunch. At the same time, Elena's voice drifted through the phone, clear as day. "Adrian, anything you feel like eating? Or should I order?" "You choose," he said. "I'm not picky." I nearly laughed out loud. Afraid it would come out rude, I hung up and texted him instead. "Send location." Adrian not picky? That had to be the funniest thing I'd heard all day. I'd never met a wolf as fussy as he was. Refused most vegetables, no mutton, no fish. Obsessed with shape and texture. Take braised ribs—he'd only eat pieces cut exactly the same size. Anything misshapen got left behind. No sticky or glutinous foods either. A whole list of quirks. In ten years, the number of times we'd eaten out alone could be counted on one hand. Every time, I'd researched menus in advance, terrified of disappointing him. And now he told Elena he wasn't picky. The double standard was staggering. I was truly enlightened. While I fumed silently, the location came through. I opened it, zoomed in—and froze. Tranquil Brook. Of all places. I closed the chat, opened his private contact, and searched our history for "Tranquil Brook." Messages popped up instantly. From March last year to this past Valentine's Day. Seven times. Seven times I'd told Adrian I wanted to eat there. The owner, Chloe Reed, was someone I'd met on a project. I'd seen her promoting the restaurant online—the style, the menu, everything I loved. I'd wanted to try it. But in the year and a half since it opened, I never had. Every time I mentioned it to Adrian, he was either busy or agreed and then canceled last minute. After enough cancellations, I stopped wanting it so badly. After Valentine's Day this year, I never brought it up again. I couldn't even remember the last time we'd eaten out alone. It felt like forever ago—long enough that memories were starting to blur. The ache passed quickly. I opened navigation. The time estimate sparked a flare of anger. Tranquil Brook sat on the east side of Jendris pack territory. I was currently on the far west. I'd miss lunch entirely. Damn it… My mouth itched to curse. … I crossed nearly the entire Jendris pack to deliver the items to Tranquil Brook. Adrian and Elena had already finished eating and were waiting at the entrance. I didn't know how long they'd stood there, but impatience was written all over Adrian's face. Elena, by contrast, was polite. She took the items from him and said, "Thank you for the trouble, Serena." My stomach was hurting, which didn't help my mood. I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "No trouble. It's what I deserve." Elena blinked, startled. Adrian frowned and shot me a cold look. "What's with the sarcasm?" Tch. Quick to defend her. No surprise—white moonlight privilege.