Chapter 3

My parents and Harlow panicked instantly and rushed to Vivian's side.

She was struggling to breathe.

"A-Am I going to die?"

When Harlow saw her pale lips, his eyes turned bloodshot with panic.

"This looks like poisoning!"

Mom suddenly seemed to think of something and turned to look at me.

The next second, I felt a hard slap across my face.

I didn't even have time to react before I was knocked to the floor. My vision turned blurry.

"Ophelia! What exactly did you put in that pie? Do you hate Vivian that much?"

It hit Harlow. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with disappointment and disgust.

"That explains why you've been so obedient today. You didn't even talk back once. So you really were plotting something all along. You wanted to kill Vivian!

"Ophelia, how did I end up with a sister as evil as you?"

"Enough! Shut up, all of you! Hurry and get Vivian to the healer's den!"

Dad let out an angry roar.

Mom and Harlow immediately stopped paying attention to me.

Harlow scooped Vivian into his arms, and the whole family rushed out the front door.

I was left sitting there in a daze with one hand covering my swollen cheek.

It wasn't me.

I might not like Vivian's schemes, but I would never hurt her.

Scenes like this had played out far too many times over the past decade.

I knew perfectly well that no matter how I explained myself, they wouldn't believe me.

'Forget it. I'm leaving anyway. Let it be.'

Hearing the commotion, one of the maids nervously came out and tried to help me.

When she saw that my hands were swollen too, her eyes widened in shock.

"Ophelia, what happened to your hands? Let me treat them for you!"

"Thank you, but I'm fine."

Using her arm for support, I got to my feet, declined her help, and returned to my bedroom.

I picked up my diary. My thumb repeatedly brushed over its cover as countless memories came flooding back.

When I was eight, Dad hadn't yet risen to a high position within the pack.

The five of us lived crowded together in a run-down wooden cabin on the edge of the territory.

That winter was particularly harsh. To trade for enough food and animal hides, my parents hunted day and night. That left them with no time to care for three young pups.

Eventually, they talked about sending one of us to live with our grandparents in the desolate borderlands.

However, Harlow was about to enter the werewolf academy for his awakening training. It was a critical period in his life. Meanwhile, Vivian was a sickly Omega whom they simply couldn't bear to send away.

Seeing the worried looks on my parents' faces, I didn't want to make things harder for them. So I volunteered.

Just like that, I was sent away to the borderlands where the blizzard never ended.

Before I left, Mom rubbed my head and praised me through tear-filled eyes. She told me I was the most sensible and well-behaved child in the world.

No one told me that the price of being 'sensible' was spending eight years alone in that freezing wilderness.

During those eight years, apart from brief reunions every Christmas, I rarely saw my parents, Harlow, and Vivian.

The only way I could tell that things had improved back home was through the increasingly luxurious fur robes they wore every Christmas.

I kept waiting for the day they would finally bring me home.

I waited from the time I was a confused little pup until I became an adult. I waited until my elderly grandparents passed away one after another. Only then did I finally board a carriage back to my pack.

The old, drafty wooden cabin from my memories had long since disappeared.

In its place stood an imposing three-story villa in the center of the territory, and the room they had saved for me was tucked away in the darkest corner of the first floor.

It had none of the expensive weapons and military books that filled Harlow's room, and it also didn't have the fancy decorations adorned with gemstones that filled Vivian's.

It was insignificant, just like my place in this family.