"Miss Aurora? Are you alright?" The nurse's voice snapped me out of my daze.

I opened my eyes to see blood backing up in the IV line. A stark, dark red blood was backing up against the tubing, and it was quite scary.

"How long has it been like this?" My voice was hoarse.

"About seven hours." The nurse replaced the IV carefully, her tone cautious. "Why wasn't anyone watching you? Your arm is already swollen. Luckily, there's no infection."

"Where's your Alpha mate?"

"He's not my mate," I answered flatly.

Seven hours.

I closed my eyes, a bitter, almost mocking smile tugging at my lips.

"Thank you, I can manage myself." I pulled out the IV and walked out of my ward, ignoring the nurse's protests.

The hallway was busy with people coming and going.

"Did you hear? The Blackmoon Group's Alpha pulled out all the stops for Miss Clara last night. He called in every tech team. It was all over the news."

"They mobilized their best legal and PR teams, just to protect one foundation?"

"It's for Clara, though. She's the Alpha's favorite, you know."

The gossip at the nurse's station made me stop in my tracks. So, during those seven hours after he left, Damian had been busy working for Clara.

I drifted toward the elevators, numb, desperate to leave this place that smelled of disinfectant.

Somehow, I ended up outside Blackmoon Group's headquarters. It was just a short walk from the hospital.

Through the glass of the main lobby, I saw a scene that made my chest ache.

Damian was gently handing Clara a cup of coffee. My father sat next to her, chatting warmly with Clara, a softness in his eyes I'd never seen directed at me.

The three of them sat together on the couch, sunlight streaming through the tall windows, wrapping them in a golden glow.

The sight stung so much I had to turn away. I couldn't bear to see that a second time. Tears rolled down freely.

"Aurora," I told myself quietly as I walked away, "Who are you crying for? No one cares about you. Don't cry!"

Damian didn't show up after that.

I finished my treatment alone in silence. Once I had fully recovered, I was planning to leave the hospital.

At the front entrance, I ran into Damian. He looked tired, but his mood seemed good. Clara was clearly doing fine now.

"Get in the car." His tone left no room for argument and was filled with threat.

I didn't budge. "I'm going home."

"Home?" He gave a cold laugh, grabbing my wrist. "Or do you want them to target you again?"

After being shoved into the car, he handed me a tablet as he started the car. "A catalog for one of the top art galleries. Lots of masterpieces. I'm taking you out for a walk to clear your head. You've been holed up in there for too long."

I flipped through the catalog absently, barely paying attention. Suddenly, on page seventeen, a familiar painting caught my eye. It was one of my mother's last works.

My mother had been an artist, and that painting was her favorite.

After Elena married into our family, she claimed that "the deceased's belongings will bring misfortune" and forced my father to get rid of everything my mother left behind.

I thought that painting was destroyed. I never imagined it would show up at an auction.

"How much is this?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Damian glanced over. "The starting bid is five hundred thousand. The estimated selling bid is around two million."

Two million… Even if I sold all my jewelry, I could barely scrape together one million and five hundred thousand.

At the auction, I unexpectedly ran into Clara.

She wore an elegant white outfit, laughing and mingling with a group of art collectors.

As soon as she saw us come in, she made a beeline for us.

"Aurora! I told Damian I wanted to apologize, and I can't believe he brought you here. I know I was wrong that day. Will you forgive me?"

I looked at Damian, but he just kept flipping through the auction catalog in silence.

So that was the real reason for this trip. So Clara could apologize. The whole “clearing my head” excuse had just been a cover.

I felt empty inside, as if something inside me had been hollowed out, but I didn't even have any tears left to cry.

Clara reached for my hand, her eyes full of regret. "I really didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so excited. After being away so long, it's nice seeing everyone again, and I can't help but feel happy about it."

I pulled my hand away. "Are you done apologizing?"

Clara bit her lip, her voice trembling, almost about to cry. "I really do want to be your friend. We're family, aren't we?"

"Friend? Family?" I let out a cold laugh. "You think you deserve that?"

The auction was about to begin. I found a seat in the corner as I clutched my bidding paddle tightly.

This was my last chance.

The auction began. Famous painting after famous painting appearing on stage. I barely paid attention until my mother's painting was brought out.

"The next piece is 'Prayer Under the Moonlight.' Starting bid, five hundred thousand!"

The auctioneer's gavel rang out.

I immediately raised my paddle. "Six hundred thousand."

"Eight hundred thousand." Clara's voice rang out from the VIP section, as casual as if she were just making small talk about the weather.

"One million." I pushed on, gritting my teeth, sweat in my palms.

"One million and five hundred thousand." Clara was still perfectly at ease, even giving me a little smile.

My hand trembled. That amount was already past my limit.

People around us started to whisper, all drawn in by the bidding war. Some were guessing at our identities, others were discussing the painting's origins.

"This bidding war is quite exciting! Both of them must really want this piece."

"I heard it's from an old, prominent werewolf family."

"Two million." Clara raised her paddle with elegance, turning and smiling at me. "Why don't you give up, Aurora? It's just a dead woman's junk. Is it really worth it?"

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. This wasn't junk. It was my mother's most treasured painting.

The auctioneer began to count down, "Two million, going once… Going twice…"

"Wait!" I shot to my feet, turning toward Damian, sitting in the back row.

Only then did his gaze finally fall on me. Swallowing my pride, I stumbled over and grabbed his sleeve with trembling hands.

"Lend me money," I said quietly, almost pleading. "Please, I'm begging you."

Those words drained everything from me. I had never begged anyone for anything in my entire life.

I was Aurora. I had never bowed my head to anyone. Yet, I was willing to give up all my dignity for my mother's keepsake.

Damian looked at me, mixed feelings in his eyes. He slowly reached for his black card.

"Damian!" Clara burst over, tears in her eyes as she grabbed his hand. "You can't help her go against me!"

She started crying instantly.

"I really love this painting, Damian, please."

Damian's hand froze in midair.

I watched him, desperately waiting for his choice.

For a second, I almost believed that maybe this time, he would choose me. Maybe, just once, he would stand by my side.

After a long silence, he slowly pulled his hand back.

He didn't even look at me, and said quietly, "Let her have it."

In that instant, my entire world collapsed.

"Two million, third and final call! Sold!" The auctioneer's gavel slammed down, every strike pounding into my chest.

I watched as Clara claimed the painting, despair almost spilling out of my eyes.

After the auction ended, I blocked Clara's path.

"What do you want for the painting?" My voice was hoarse. "I'll pay you three times the price. Six million."

Clara tilted her head, pretending to think. "I don't want money. Money means nothing to me."

"Then what do you want?"

"Alright, then. I want you to admit in front of everyone that your talent in design is fake," Clara said.

People nearby started to whisper among themselves.

She didn't stop there.

"And I want you to grovel at my feet and apologize. Admit that you've bullied me your whole life," she added, her smile sickly sweet.

Everyone stopped to watch. Several people pulled out their phones, eager to record.

I closed my eyes. My knees started to buckle. For my mother's only keepsake, I was willing to give up even my last shred of pride.

Just as I was about to kneel, Clara suddenly started laughing.

"Oh, I forgot to mention! I already shredded the painting. Why would I ever keep something like that? What a shame! It was such a beautiful painting, too, but it belonged to a dead woman. You'll never get it back."

Time seemed to freeze.

All sound disappeared, except for the sound of my own heart shattering.

My mother's last work, destroyed by this cruel woman.

Her pale face flashed through my mind. That painting was her favorite.

But now…

Before I even realized it, I grabbed a heavy silver trophy from the table and smashed it down onto Clara's arm.

"Ah!" Clara's scream echoed through the auction hall.

Blood instantly soaked Clara's white dress. Her right arm was broken, and she curled up on the ground in pain.

I looked at her calmly as she lay in a pool of blood.

"I prefer to have my revenge on the spot. That's just who I am." My voice was eerily calm. "You always have to pay the price if you destroy something that someone treasures."

Guests around us gasped, stepping back in shock. Some people shrieked while others started recording on their phones, and a growing crowd whispered anxiously.

"Oh my god, she actually hit her!"

"That was a silver trophy… Do you know how bad that is for werewolves?"

"Clara's arm is ruined!"

I ignored all of it and left that suffocating room. Then, heavy footsteps pounded behind me.

"Aurora!"

Damian's voice thundered with a rage I had never heard from him before.

I stopped and turned around slowly.

He was marching toward me from the crowd. A small, expensive vial of healing potion in his hand. It was clearly meant for Clara.

There was fire in his eyes—a fury I had never seen before.

"Why did you hurt her?!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard it felt like he would break my bones. I looked at him, a bitter smile forming inside.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "She destroyed my mother's painting."

"Even if she did, you can't hurt her!" Damian snapped at me. "She's always been so fragile! Do you even know what silver can do to her?"

That was the final straw. The thing that broke me completely.

So, it didn't matter what she did, or how much she had hurt me. In his heart, Clara would always be the one who couldn't be touched, the precious treasure.

And I? I was always the troublemaker who never matured.

Damian let go of me and rushed to Clara, immediately checking on her injury.

"Does it hurt?" His voice was full of concern. "Don't be scared. I'll fix it."

Clara leaned weakly against him, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts, Damian. Is my hand ruined?"

"It won't be. I won't let anything happen to you." Damian carefully poured the potion on her wound.

I stood there, watching it all, feeling everything inside me turn to ice.

"Get security," Damian ordered his men, not even looking back at me. "Lock Aurora up in the isolation cell for attacking a pack member."

The isolation cell.

It was where the Pack punished criminals who broke laws. The walls were made of pure silver. It could bring great harm to the werewolves inside.

If one were lucky, one would get away with rotting skin. If not, one might end up with neurological damage.

"Damian…" I tried to speak, but his cold eyes silenced me.

"That's enough," he said, his voice cold. "You have to face the consequences this time."

Two Pack Guards came over and locked silver cuffs around my wrists. The instant the cold metal touched my skin, the searing pain made me shudder.

As I was dragged away, I looked back one last time. Damian was still holding Clara, taking her for medical help—he never once looked at me.

As if I had never mattered at all.

The heavy silver door into the isolation cell clanged shut. Silver walls glared under the lights, and even the air itself felt full of something that made every werewolf's skin crawl.

Those three days in the cell were the worst days I had ever known.

I slid down the freezing wall, letting the silver cuffs bite deep into my wrists, leaving bloody marks.

I lost all sense of time, until I heard footsteps from outside.

A group of unfamiliar Pack Guards burst in, eyes full of malice.

"So this is the one who hurt Miss Clara?"

"She doesn't look like much."

I got to my feet, staying wary, but the silver cell had sapped my strength.

"Who sent you?" I asked weakly.

"Alpha Damian, of course. He said you needed some punishment," the leader replied.

I couldn't believe it. Even if he wanted to punish me, I never thought he'd go this far. But I couldn't think anymore as the pain overcame my senses.

The first punch slammed into my stomach, making me bend over.

Then came the second, the third…

I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound.

"Still trying to act tough?" one of them sneered. "Let's see how long you last."

I lost track of how many blows I took. Eventually, I collapsed on the floor, blood dripping from my lips and staining the silver floor.

Three days later, Damian finally came to let me out.

"Did you learn your lesson this time?"

That familiar voice echoed through the door.

I looked up, and saw Damian standing there with vision blurred, his voice colder than ever.