Three Years a Guest, No Longer Your Daughter

Chloe turned my place card facedown, slid it beneath her plate, and took the chair beside my mother. She thought the flowers blocked my view.

A welcome-home banner hung over the hall. Elders, warriors, and pack representatives waited with drinks in their hands to meet the Alpha's long-lost daughter, whose name was now under somebody else's dinner plate.

“Nora, would you mind sitting down there?” Chloe pointed to the end of the table. “I've always sat next to Mom. Anywhere else would feel weird.”

My father signaled a server to bring another chair. I stayed where I was. “We agreed on the seating last night. Why's my place card under your plate?”

Her smile faltered. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It's just dinner. You're not seriously upset about this, are you?”

I pulled out the card and set it upright. “I'm asking why you moved it.”

The conversations nearest us died down. Adrian came over and rested a hand on Chloe's chair. He'd started handling most of our father's administrative work, and he'd grown used to people doing as he said. “Nora, everyone's waiting to eat.”

“Then I'd like to sit where we agreed.”

“Is a chair really worth all this?”

“Then ask her to take a different one.”

He frowned, as if that possibility hadn't occurred to him.

My mother caught my wrist. “Honey, she didn't mean anything by it. This is how we sat before you came home.”

“I know. Last night you asked where I wanted to sit. I said beside you, and you said yes.”

Her grip loosened. Chloe pushed her chair back with a scrape and stood. “I get it. I'm not your real daughter. It's time I got out of the way.”

Several people looked at me. I didn't take the bait. “Being their daughter has nothing to do with taking my seat. You have a place right there, on Mom's other side.”

Chloe glanced at the empty chair. Her eyes filled.

Cole set down his drink. “She's up. What more do you want?”

“For everyone to sit down so we can start my welcome dinner.”

He looked at our mother, apparently expecting her to handle me. Before she could speak, Chloe clutched the front of her dress, her breathing turning quick and shallow.

Lucas cleared some space and crouched beside her. Chloe had struggled with panic attacks since a frightening first shift. They'd told me about it when I moved in.

“Lucas can take her somewhere quiet,” I said.

My mother was already helping her up. Adrian grabbed a coat, and Cole went for the door. Nobody answered.

“I'm sorry,” Chloe whispered as they passed me. “I shouldn't have come.”

“You're allowed to be here. I haven't asked anyone to leave.”

The doors closed anyway.

A server stood beside our table holding the appetizers. My father waved him forward, then lowered his voice. “How much more of a scene are you planning to make, Nora?”

I looked at the empty chairs. “You invited the whole pack to meet me. You couldn't even keep the seat you promised me.”

“Chloe's unwell.”

“Lucas is with her.”

“Your mother needs to see that she's all right.”

“What about Adrian and Cole?”

His mouth tightened. I waited, but he picked up his glass instead of answering. I left the table.

I'd waited three years for this dinner.

They'd found me at twenty-two through a DNA test. Ruth, the woman who'd raised me, had just died. I remembered sitting in my tiny apartment with her sewing box in my lap while my mother cried and said she could finally bring me home.

After I moved into the pack house, the welcome dinner kept getting pushed back. Chloe needed time. My father had an Alpha summit. My mother didn't think it was a good year.

I learned to keep weekends open, then tell my coworkers I could cover a shift after all.

Tonight, my father had finally introduced me. Then he'd asked why I was embarrassing everyone.

On the terrace, my phone lit up. Maeve had sent a photo of her team outside their new clinic. My name was on the plaque beside the entrance.

It was the first reconstruction project I'd audited for Nightfall. The duplicate expenses I'd caught had paid for an extra overnight ambulance crew.

[Your office is still empty. The job offer still stands.]

I opened the reply box, then closed it. My initiation was tomorrow. [I'd give them one more chance.]

The terrace glass reflected the hall. My father had joined the elders, the band had started up again, and a server was clearing away my crumpled place card.

My welcome dinner carried on without me. Nobody came looking.