Chapter three

The letter lay on her nightstand, untouched. Every time she reached for it, fear stopped her.

The handwriting was elegant but unfamiliar. Looping letters she had never seen before. No return address. No indication of who had left it.

Part of her wanted to tear it apart without reading a single word. But another part, the part that still held onto hope even after everything, could not let go.

Morning came far too soon.

Serena had not realized she had fallen asleep until the pale gray light crept through her curtains. Her body ached. Her eyes were swollen. Her head pounded with a dull, persistent throb.

She sat up and looked around the room. And it was then that she truly saw everything.

The gifts were everywhere. On her dresser,on her shelves and the small table by the window.

Damien had given her a music box that still played the melody he once said reminded him of her, Kieran’s leather journal sat beside it. Lucien’s carved wooden wolf rested on the shelf.

Serena stared at these objects and felt her heart crack open all over again.

She picked up the music box and wound the key. The melody filled the cottage, soft and sweet and utterly unbearable. She slammed it shut.

She gathered everything in her arms. Every single thing they had given her over the years.

She carried them to the small fireplace in the corner of the cottage and knelt down, holding the music box over the cold hearth.

She could not drop it.

Her hands shook. Her vision blurred. She tried to let go, but her fingers would not obey.

She thought of Damien’s laugh. Kieran’s fierce embrace. Lucien’s quiet devotion.

She thought of the way they had looked at her across the ballroom while introducing their fated mates. Like she was a stranger. Like she meant nothing.

She still loved them and that was the worst part.

Serena lowered the music box and set it aside. She could not destroy them. She could not let go. She was not strong enough.

She sank onto the floor and stared at the cold fireplace. No tears came this time, and somehow that hurt even more.

The morning passed in a haze.

Serena eventually forced herself to bathe and change into a simple dress. She had work at the bakery. Mrs. Willow would be expecting her. She could not afford to lose her job. It was the only thing she had left.

The walk to the village felt longer than usual. Every step was heavy. Every glance from a passing pack member felt like a knife.

By the time she reached the bakery, the rumors had already spread.

“Did you hear? She actually thought she’d become Luna.”

Serena lowered her head and kept walking.

She pushed open the bakery door and tried to ignore the whispers. Mrs. Willow was behind the counter, kneading dough with practiced efficiency. She looked up and smiled when she saw Serena.

“There you are, dear. I was starting to worry”.

“I am fine,” Serena lied.

She tied on her apron and began arranging the morning pastries. The work was simple. Familiar. It almost made her forget.

Then the women walked in.

Three of them, young…pretty…wearing expensive dresses.

They were regular customers. They had always been pleasant to Serena before. But today they were not pleasant.

“Well, well,” one of them said, looking Serena up and down. “Look who decided to show up.”

Serena kept her head down. “Can I help you?”

“Help us?” Another woman laughed. “You cannot even help yourself. I heard you spent the entire banquet staring at the Alpha heirs like a lost puppy.”

“At least she has something to stare at,” the third woman added. “Three beautiful fated mates. Much better than a wolfless orphan.”

Serena’s hands trembled as she arranged the pastries. She could feel her face burning.

She wanted to run. She wanted to disappear. But she had nowhere to go.

The women continued their cruel remarks, their voices growing louder. A few other customers turned to watch.

No one intervened. No one defended her.

Until Mrs. Willow stepped out from behind the counter.

“That is enough.”

Her voice was sharp, unyielding. She stood in front of Serena like a shield, her flour dusted hands planted on her hips.

“This girl has worked for me for three years. She has never been anything but kind and hardworking. I will not have you spreading ugly rumors in my bakery. Leave now, or I will ban you from this establishment permanently.”

The women stared at her, mouths open.

“You cannot do that,” one of them sputtered.

“Try me,” Mrs. Willow said.

The women exchanged glances. Then, without another word, they turned and walked out.

The bakery fell silent.

Serena could not hold back the tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Mrs. Willow pulled her into a warm embrace. “Do not thank me, dear. You do not deserve any of this. Those men were fools to let you go.”

Serena wanted to believe that. But she could not.

She finished her shift in silence. The customers were kinder after Mrs. Willow’s intervention, but Serena still felt their eyes on her. Still heard the whispers behind her back.

She walked home that evening with a heavy heart.

Staying in Blackwood meant enduring more humiliation. But leaving meant having nothing.

She sat on her bed and stared at the letter she had set aside the night before.

Her fingers trembled as she broke the seal.

She unfolded the paper, her eyes falling on the first line.

“If you are reading this, then the time has finally come for you to learn who you really are.”

Serena’s breath caught.