Chapter 6

Elara's POV

For the first time in five years, I arrived at the White Moon Estate not as the help, but as a guest.

I wore a black Dior dress. For Mia, I put her in the Elsa gown she never got tired of.

We stood in front of the full-length mirror together, and I looked at her—round cheeks, pale gold hair—and thought she was a thousand times lovelier than any fairy-tale princess.

Margaret had called it a themed cocktail event. I wanted Mia to feel comfortable enough to play with the other children.

As for me—the designer dress was my last courtesy to Margaret. The final gesture. After today, I was done dressing for her approval.

Celeste was there. I hadn't expected that.

Wasn't her daughter supposed to be dangerously ill? Funny how that maternal devotion had a convenient off switch.

I walked Mia through the entrance and into the main hall.

The most prominent couch was already occupied—a dozen or so ladies from the smaller packs were clustered around Margaret and Veronica, competing for attention. Celeste sat at Margaret's right hand, in the middle of unwrapping a gift. "I chose this especially for you. I hope you love it."

A yellow sapphire necklace. Rare. Expensive. The kind of thing you don't find twice.

Margaret turned it over in her hands like it was already a treasure, then reached out and clasped Celeste's hand with real warmth.

That was when Veronica spotted me.

She was on her feet before I'd made it three steps, arms open, face lit up with a hospitality that made my stomach turn.

"Look who it is—our resident human genius." She addressed the room like she was hosting an award show. "Let me introduce her properly, ladies. This is my dear brother's human mate—the one who, through sheer willpower, managed to drag her ordinary little family up from nothing."

A small shrug, a small smile. "Though I suppose there's only so far you can climb when you're working with such limited raw material. Human, after all. No matter how much help Orion offered—there are ceilings that genetics simply won't let you break through."

Under the table, my hand had balled into a fist.

Every time. Every single time, they did this.

I knew most of the women in that room. A handful of them were genuinely kind to me in private. Veronica knew that too—and she did it anyway, every time, in front of everyone, because it gave her something she needed.

I had never pushed back. Not once.

This time I thought about it. But then I thought: three days. Only three more days.

I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of a scene.

"I came to say happy birthday to Margaret," I said, keeping my voice light. "If there's nothing else, Mia and I will get out of your hair."

"Hold on."

Veronica's eyes had moved to my dress. The warmth evaporated.

"Did you even read the dress code? This is a themed event. What are you wearing?"

Margaret's expression cooled too.

She was dressed as a medieval queen tonight—formal court gown, crown, the whole production. The elaborate silhouette against her sharp, narrow face gave her a particular severity.

Something in my chest tightened instinctively. I'd never fully stopped being afraid of her.

But then Margaret exhaled and waved a hand, not even looking at me directly. "Leave it, Veronica."

She took Celeste's silky-smooth hand back in hers. "Celeste is the woman who actually belongs as the Luna of the White Moon Pack, and she's back right where she should be. Elara will be out of this family soon enough. Don't waste your energy."

In my hand, Mia's grip slowly tightened.

I could feel the effort it was costing her to keep quiet. Her small chest was heaving.

And that was when I realized I'd made a mistake.

I was a mother first.

I could absorb the humiliation for myself. But I could not stand here and let my daughter feel powerless. Not in front of this many people.

I took one step forward and let myself smile.

My voice came out easy. "Margaret, I'm just curious —"

"Why couldn't Orion marry Celeste the first time around?"

"Was that his choice?"

The smile on Margaret's face stopped moving.

Celeste's expression went tight.

Everyone in the room knew. It was one of those open secrets the werewolf world kept buried under polite conversation—Orion had been desperately in love with Celeste, and she had chosen to marry Damien of the Silver Wing Pack instead. Orion had been the one left behind.

Margaret's lips parted.

I went ahead.

"Maybe he wanted something pure, and underestimated what money actually buys." I kept the smile in place. "But I'm curious—what does Orion have now that he didn't have then?"

Nothing. The whole room knew the answer.

Celeste had come back for the power and the wealth—that was the story everyone told each other when the lights were low.

When Orion had been concealing his true identity as Alpha heir under his grandfather's orders—playing ordinary on campus, keeping his status quiet—Celeste had toyed with his feelings for years, drawn in by his affection, giving nothing back, making no promises. Until the day she announced she was marrying Damien.

It was only at her own mating ceremony, when Orion arrived with me on his arm, that Celeste finally learned who he really was.

I saw the regret on her face that day. Clear as anything.

Only Orion still believed she was blameless. He always had some version of the same line:

"She saved my life."

I had never figured out what she'd actually done. But it had always been enough to excuse everything else.

"You shut your mouth right now." Margaret rose to her feet, shaking.

"Orion is the Alpha of the most powerful pack in the world. His worth speaks for itself!"

She wasn't wrong. I shouldn't have poked at that particular wound.

"You're right," I said. "He's all of those things. He just couldn't hold on to the woman you wanted for him."

The implication sat in the room without me having to spell it out: if I hadn't been standing in the way, if Theodosius hadn't intervened, Orion would never have married a human at all.

Margaret's mouth was trembling. She raised her hand to summon the guards.

"Perhaps it's time you got a taste of White Moon Pack discipline."

I stood straight and kept my hand in Mia's.

They could sneer at me for being human.

But they seemed to forget that being human was also what made me untouchable under Newland City law.

They couldn't put a hand on me without legal consequence. Not here.

Margaret's jaw tightened—and I watched the moment she remembered.

The room went static with tension.

Then a man's voice cut through it.

"Luna Elara."

Someone stepped out of the crowd—a tall man in a white bespoke suit, black bow tie, the kind of composed ease that filled a room without demanding it.

"There you are."

I looked at him. Really looked.

He was handsome in a way that rivaled Orion—broader in the shoulders, with sharp, watchful eyes and a polished elegance that his expensive suit only emphasized. When he extended his hand, I caught the glint of what had to be a ten-thousand-dollar watch on his wrist, his knuckles scarred but somehow refined.

He smiled at me like we were old friends. "Orion asked me to keep you company. He's running behind."

I had never seen this man before in my life.

The murmur that moved through the room filled in the gap.

"Is that the Golden Crown Pack's Alpha—Samuel Kingscliff? I've never seen him in person…"

Samuel Kingscliff.

Orion's best friend. The one who had spent years in France growing the Golden Crown banking empire—which was why I'd never crossed paths with him before.

It was obvious what he was doing. Throwing me a lifeline.

I was grateful. I also knew Orion hadn't asked him to do a damn thing—this was Samuel's own call.

With his help, I got Mia and myself out of the crowd.

Once we were standing in the courtyard, near the garden wall, I told him, "I'm going to head back. I've done what I came to do."

I'd paid my respects. I could call it a night.

"I'll walk you." He said it without making a thing of it.

I smiled and declined.

The guest rooms were on the far side of the estate—quiet, off the main path. I'd chosen a small room that had been sitting empty, planning to spend the night and drive back in the morning. The mountain roads outside Newland were too treacherous to navigate after dark.

I turned the key, shut the door behind me.

Mia was already half-asleep on the bed, her small body curled into itself, forehead resting on the pillow.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pressed the back of my hand lightly to her forehead.

Slightly warm.

I told myself it was just the long day. Sleep would fix it.

I got warm water, wrung out a cloth, wiped down her face and neck, changed her into a light set of pajamas, tucked her in. Then I crossed the room to turn off the light.

Halfway there, Mia made a sound—small and strange, wrong in a way I felt before I understood it.

I turned.

She had pushed herself up, one hand cupped over her nose.

Crimson seeped between her fingers.

"Mom…" Her voice was frightened.

Dr. Landon's warning echoed in my head: The moment Mia starts bleeding from her nose without warning, with no way to stop it…

That was how the end began.