Chapter 2- Memories

Growing up, Owen and I had always known we were meant for each other.

We’d been childhood sweethearts, a bond that had only strengthened over time. Our families were close, both in pack and business.

My father was the Alpha of Crystal Pack and the CEO of Crystal Conglomerate, while Owen’s father led Jostum Pack and ran Jostum Conglomerate.

For as long as I could remember, our marriage had been planned, destined. We understood the expectations, so we had always been careful, respectful, and distant with the opposite sex.

Yet Reginald had changed everything.

It had all started with a simple act of compassion.

I’d first met her when she was little more than a bundle of bones, her appearance pale and malnourished compared to her peers.

I had met her at a charity event held by the company. She had this kind of sweetness about her, a charm that endeared her to everyone she met. I’d felt drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite explain, and I wanted to lift her out of her hardships.

But I didn’t have the resources to help her on my own, so I turned to Owen.

At first, he balked at the idea. Feeling that it was a waste of money, time and resources.

“I don’t have time to play these house games with you,” he’d scoffed.

I’d dropped the topic, feeling disappointed but not entirely surprised by his response. I still hoped I could help her and planned to do it in my own little way.

And then I was in a car accident.

I didn’t remember much from that time; only the blurred faces of nurses and doctors, the sterile smell of antiseptics, and the muffled voices of my parents.

But what I heard afterward was that Owen had gone to extraordinary lengths for me. He’d made desperate pleas to the universe, praying at temples and shrines, places he normally dismissed as nonsense.

Driven by his guilt, he’d even turned back to Reginald, supporting her in the name of accumulating virtue, hoping his good deeds might bring me back to him.

Remarkably, I did pull through. Within days, my condition had stabilized, and I was finally allowed home to recover. He’d come to visit me in the hospital, bringing a shy smile and a bouquet.

I remembered his words, laced with humor but sincere: “It seems Reginald has become your benefactor, Carly. You owe her.” He had laughed, and so had I, seeing it as nothing more than a joke.

But I had taken it to heart. From that day on, I treated Reginald like a sister. I shared what I had with her, from clothes to opportunities, lifting her up whenever I could. She became a part of my life, someone I trusted implicitly.

Or so I thought.

When I looked back, the warning signs were all there, but I’d ignored them.

She had crept into my life like a silent predator, building her nest in the quiet spaces I had opened to her.

I could feel that something had shifted between Owen and me, something neither of us wanted to admit.

Even as I sat across from him now, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of guilt, I could feel the tension that had grown between us, the silent friction.

As the memories of her subtle betrayals flooded back, I felt a sour taste at the back of my throat. I barely touched my food, poking at it listlessly until I finally set my spoon down. Owen noticed, his brow creasing as he asked, his voice filled with concern, “Is something wrong with the food?”

I looked down at the table, catching sight of the multiple chili-laden dishes scattered around. Owen knew I couldn’t handle spicy food. Yet it felt oddly symbolic of my situation now—overlooked, pushed to the side.

“Is the food not to your liking?” he asked, noticing I’d barely touched my plate.

I lifted my head to find him already realizing his mistake. His expression softened with regret.

“I’m sorry, Carly. I forgot you can’t eat spicy food,” he murmured, his tone apologetic.

Taking a breath, I readied myself to finally bring up what had been on my mind. The words were about to leave my lips when a familiar honeyed voice broke through the silence. The lilting voice floated from the doorway, one that sent a prickle of discomfort down my spine.

“Owen!”

I looked up, spotting Reginald at the door, her figure framed by a flowing white dress that accentuated her slender frame.

Her face lit up with a sweet smile, her eyes finding Owen before landing on me. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly replaced it with a friendly, if not slightly forced, grin. “Oh, Carly’s here too.”

Her smile, though practiced, had a strained quality to it when directed at me. There was a subtle note of indifference, something I might have mistaken for mere shyness once. Now, it felt like an insult.

I watched her, saying nothing.

Owen, on the other hand, sighed and gave her a disapproving look. “Reginald, have you ever thought about knocking before entering?”

The irritation in Owen’s voice would have seemed real if I didn’t know about their affair.

She just laughed, waving off his irritation as if it were an endearing flaw of his. “Oh, I forgot! I’ll remember next time.” Then, glancing back at me with her usual charm, she added, “Mind if I join you for lunch, Carly? I’m starving after class.”

But her gaze remained fixed on Owen, as though my presence was merely a formality.

Owen didn’t wait for me to respond. “Of course, sit down if you’re hungry. There’s plenty here, and if you want more, order whatever you like.” His tone was easy, but his eyes flickered toward me, catching my expression.

Reginald took a seat to his right, smiling brightly as if this were all her right. “No need, Owen,” she said, giving him a warm look. “You’ve already ordered all my favorites.”

Owen’s expression faltered, his eyes snapped up to meet mine. For a second, he looked uneasy, almost guilty. I kept my face carefully blank, though inside, I could feel a bitter warmth pooling.

“Yes, do eat,” I said, gesturing to the spread. “Enjoy it all.”

Owen’s face softened slightly, though there was a question in his eyes, a silent plea to say something. But I stayed silent, unable to force the words out.

“Carly, if you want anything else, feel free to order,” he offered, passing me the menu, his eyes searching mine.

I took the menu and forced a smile, though I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “No, I think I’ll pass. I don’t have much of an appetite. Saw something this morning that completely put me off food.”

He frowned, the concern back on his face. “What was it?”

I kept my tone light, but every word felt like a needle as I continued. “Oh, just a friend of mine. Her boyfriend’s been cheating on her with a lady that has some sexually transmitted disease and unfortunately, he got it and is currently in the hospital.

My friend sent a picture of his groin area, and it was gross.”

I watched Owen’s face as I spoke. His expression tightened, the guilt flashing like a flare behind his eyes. I held his gaze, unwavering, letting the silence stretch between us.

“People like that... they don’t deserve to be buried,” I finished softly. “Don’t you agree, Owen?”

He swallowed, looking cornered. His response came hesitantly. “Yes... yes, of course.”

Her forced cheer didn’t fool me, not in the least. I could tell she was feeling guilty. Looking at her forced smile and how she evaded my gaze, I felt a flicker of satisfaction sparked in me.

“Carly,” Reginald said with forced enthusiasm, casting a sidelong glance at Owen. “Maybe… maybe that boy hasn’t felt anything for his girlfriend in a long time, right? It’s not as bad as you think.”

I scoffed; the sound raw even to my own ears. “If the feelings are gone, why not break up? Why drag things out? Reginald, you’re still young—you don’t know how some men think these days.” My words cut sharply, satisfying some deep itch that had been bothering me.

Owen glanced up, his eyes narrowing as I spoke, but I couldn’t care less. There was something about the way Reginald cowered beside him, looking almost small under his gaze. That made me wonder if she’d even considered the mess she’d walked into.

“If he actually loved his so-called ‘mistress,’ he wouldn’t hesitate to end things with his girlfriend,” I continued, unflinching. “But, of course, no decent man would do that, so he makes his lover act like a shameful, desperate sidepiece instead.”

I could see the shame bloom in Reginald’s face, her eyes darting away to avoid mine. A wave of satisfaction washed over me, even as Owen’s scowl deepened.

“Why are you getting so worked up over other people’s business?” Owen finally snapped, the tension in his voice evident. But he knew better than to meet my gaze for too long. He looked down, his face impassive, as though he couldn’t afford to let his emotions show.

I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Yes, Owen, I’m sure you’re above that sort of behavior,” I said, my voice thick with irony. The words hit him square, leaving him at a loss. That, at least, was gratifying.

Reginald, visibly flustered, shifted uncomfortably until the show finally wrapped up. She avoided looking at me entirely after that, choosing to keep her attention firmly on Owen or the floor.

After lunch, Owen suggested driving Reginald home, but I declined immediately. My heart still beat with resentment.

Owen offered to drive Reginald back to her dorm, and she hesitated, eyes darting between us.

“Owen, just take Carly home,” she murmured awkwardly, managing a timid smile. “I can get a taxi.”

Perhaps she was afraid I’d somehow disrupt her precious arrangement with Owen, or worse, cut off her little line of financial support. I could practically smell the fear on her. People could be so greedy—she wanted everything she could take. A free ride, my affection, and Owen all in one go.

Before I could voice my thoughts, Owen’s voice cut in, cold and commanding. “Carly can get home on her own,” he said with an edge that surprised me. “But you, Reginald—you shouldn’t be taking a taxi alone. It’s too dangerous with your school being so remote. I’ll take you back myself.”

The words stung, a bitter slap to my pride. If I hadn’t been his girlfriend, I’d have assumed he was standing up for her as if she was the girlfriend.

Reginald looked at me with a hint of embarrassment, opening the car door naturally, slipping into the seat beside him as if it were her right.

“Goodbye, Carly,” she said through the open window, giving a feigned, overly bright smile. “Be careful on your way back.”

I watched them pull away, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I felt a dull ache of betrayal settle in. It was laughable, really—Owen and I had known each other for twenty years. I never imagined I’d see this side of him, the side capable of deceit, the side I had been too blind to notice.

I turned on my heel, laughter rising within me as my heart twisted painfully. I walked home alone, each step marked with the bitter resolve to reclaim my own self-respect.

Anyway, I needed space, air, anything but him right now.

---

Owen returned late that night, his shirt reeking of alcohol. I was sprawled on the sofa, mindlessly watching TV when he stumbled in, his jacket slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He tossed a box onto the coffee table in front of me, the gold wrapping glinting under the soft light.

“It’s a new bag,” he slurred, collapsing onto the couch beside me. “Got it just for you. Thought you’d like it.”

I eyed him, unimpressed, and calmly slid over to the single sofa across the room, putting more distance between us.

He looked at me, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “What?” he muttered, reaching out as if to bring me closer.

“You reek of alcohol,” I replied simply, folding my arms as I held his gaze. “Take a shower first, at least.”

He lowered his head, sniffing his shirt, then silently got up, shoulders tense, and disappeared into the bathroom.

With a sigh, I leaned over and picked up the box he’d thrown. Opening it revealed a bright, cheery green handbag, the kind better suited for a carefree, younger girl. It was fresh and vibrant in a way that clashed with everything I liked.

My lips pressed into a tight line as I set the bag aside, picking up my phone for distraction. My feed filled with various posts, but one account in particular made me pause. It seemed oddly familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it. Curiosity piqued, I clicked through to the page.

As I scrolled, my heart began to pound in disbelief. Photos of the interior of a dorm caught my eye, each detail in the background so unmistakably familiar. It was Reginald’s. I’d helped her move in during her freshman year, setting up her space.

A cold chill swept over me as I continued scrolling. She hadn’t taken these photos in her dorm alone. Some of the backgrounds were painfully recognizable—she’d taken pictures in my own home. My blood turned to ice. Had Owen brought her here without telling me? Rage, thick and overwhelming, began to bubble up. My eyes glinted, changing color just to show how angry my wolf was as well.

Suddenly, I remembered his phone call earlier, where he’d asked someone to help her buy an apartment. My fingers shook as I swiped through more photos. Each accessory, each bag, each piece of jewelry… they were duplicates of gifts he’d bought me.

I stood up, heart pounding, and stormed into the bedroom. I flung open my closet, comparing my items to the pictures on her account. The realization hit hard, each truth like a knife slicing through my trust. He hadn’t just betrayed me with words—he had shared my life, my world, with her.

Tears blurred my vision, and I laughed bitterly at myself, my hand covering my mouth as I struggled to stifle the sound. My generosity, my trust, my love—it was all a joke. I’d offered my heart and been left with this cruel charade. I clenched my fists, the hurt and anger swirling into a fierce determination.

Pulling out my phone, I took photos of everything—the bags, the jewelry, the videos she’d posted. I saved each one as evidence. I knew this wasn’t simply a personal break; the entanglement of our families’ businesses and histories made it a complicated affair. But these images would make things a little easier.

When I walked out, Owen was buttoning up his shirt. He glanced up, catching my cold gaze.

“There’s a… situation at Reginald’s school,” he said, voice oddly shaky. “There’s been a string of incidents, and they still haven’t caught the guy. It’s not safe, so I’m going to pick her up. She’ll be staying here tonight.”

I watched him, the emptiness in my gaze reflecting the quiet anger building inside me. “Owen,” I said, my voice unwavering, “if you walk out that door, we’re done. We’re over.”

He froze, a look of shock passing through his eyes before it morphed into anger. “What’s that supposed to mean, Carly?” he demanded.

I sneered, crossing my arms. “Did I stutter?”

With a low, bitter laugh, he shook his head, casting me a scornful glance. “You’re being irrational. I have to go.”

Without another word, he turned, slamming the door behind him. As the echo faded, so did the last trace of patience I had left. I had nothing else to wait for.

I packed a few belongings, my heart oddly calm, and threw them into the back seat of my car. I drove straight to my family’s estate, where the silence was comforting, a welcome escape from the noise of betrayal.

Settling into the quiet, I composed a message in our family’s group chat, including snapshots of everything I’d uncovered. I added a simple statement: “Owen and I are over. The wedding is canceled.”

The response was immediate, a flood of messages filling the screen, but I ignored them.

Moments later, Owen’s name popped up in my private messages.

“Carly, delete the message!” he demanded. “What are you trying to do? Where are you? Let’s talk this over.”

I ignored him, blocking his number. Moments later, another notification popped up. It was from Reginald and it read:

“Carly, I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. But Owen and I… we truly love each other. If you’re angry, then take it out on me—don’t punish Owen for it.”

I didn’t reply to Reginald’s message. Instead, I took a screenshot of it and posted it on our shared group chat. I wasn’t the kind of werewolf to let others trample over me without consequence. If they wanted to play dirty, then I had no reason to show restraint or keep their secrets under wraps.

The moment the screenshot was sent, I braced myself. As expected, my phone rang with my parents’ number lighting up the screen. I answered, preparing myself for the wave of concern and anger I knew was coming.

“Carly, what’s going on?” my mother asked, her voice laced with worry.

I took a breath and recounted the whole sordid situation, sparing no detail about what I had uncovered. They deserved to know the truth just as much as I did.

My mother’s anger was palpable, even through the phone. “That’s it. I’m coming back,” she said, her tone firm. “I’ll book a flight right now and sort this out.”

It was a typical response from her, but I didn’t think it was necessary. I began to reassure her, telling her I could handle it and didn’t want her to worry. But before I could convince her, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a message from Owen’s mother:

[Carly, please come over for dinner tomorrow. Owen wants to explain everything to you.]

I was about to dismiss the invitation when another line followed.

[Owen’s grandfather knows, and he wants to see you too, as well as some elders of the Pack.]

That gave me pause. Their family patriarch, the one whose approval Owen had chased his whole life, wanted to see me? This wasn’t just any family dinner; it was an audience. Against my better judgment, I agreed.

The next morning, while I was sifting through my emails, my assistant called me with her usual monthly question. “Ms. Crystal, it’s time to allocate funds again. How much living expenses should be given to Miss Blackwell this month?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Don’t send her anything. Starting today, there’s no need to support her financially. She has other people to rely on now.”

Reginald had been dependent on me since she entered university, but I’d had enough. Over the years, she’d gone from being a humble girl to one obsessed with appearances and luxury, constantly upgrading her wardrobe with designer clothes while ignoring her responsibilities. I’d been torn about cutting her off for a while, but considering everything, I finally felt at peace with the decision.

Returning to work after that call felt like taking control back piece by piece.

Since my father had handed over the reins to me after graduation, work had been both my solace and my focus, especially with him retired and traveling with my mother, while my brother handled the Pack’s duties.

But today, as I settled back at my desk, the door swung open without warning. Owen stepped in, his face clouded with frustration, so thick that I was sure that they could become tangible.

“Carly,” he snapped, his voice seething with barely controlled anger. “Do you know what you did by posting that screenshot in the group? Grandpa was so furious he nearly had a heart attack!”

I folded my arms and stared at him coolly. “And how exactly is that my fault, Owen? You made your own choices; I just stopped hiding them for you. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you.”

My words hit their mark. Owen’s face tightened, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to rein in his emotions.

After a moment, he spoke in a softer, almost pleading tone. “Carly, it’s all a misunderstanding. I only think of Reginald as a sister. Nothing happened between us, I swear.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

His eyes dropped, and he added, “When you come over tonight, tell my family not to drag her into this mess. We can forget this happened and move forward as planned. Our families expect us to get married, and I… I don’t want to disappoint them.”

His tone, his reasoning—everything about his words made me feel a surge of nausea. Did he really believe I was that desperate to keep him?

I couldn’t keep the contempt out of my voice as I replied, “Owen, do you seriously think I need you to survive?”

For a second, he looked taken aback. Then, with a sigh, he softened his tone even more.

“Carly, let’s be rational. Our families have so much business together, and they’re close friends. Even our Pack’s share close boundary. If we let this escalate, it will strain things between them, which isn’t worth it. You’re angry now, but think about the bigger picture.”

I shook my head, feeling a strange sense of detachment as he spoke. Was he seriously asking me to brush his betrayal under the rug for the sake of family connections?

I met his gaze and replied with cold clarity. “Owen, if you cared so much about the family ties, maybe you should have thought about that before doing this. You brought this upon us, not me.”

He clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “Alright, yes, I made a mistake,” he conceded, though his expression barely softened. “But let’s be real—every man needs some freedom. Reginald is nothing compared to you. You’ll always be the one I want by my side.”

His words filled me with a disgust I couldn’t hide. “So, you’re saying I should be grateful for that?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You’re just a self-centered, typical wolf trying to relieve your guilt. Frankly, I’m done. Go marry whoever you want; it doesn’t involve me anymore.”

His face fell, and he stammered as he took a step toward me. But I held up a hand, cutting him off.

“If you don’t want me to call security to escort you out, leave on your own,” I warned. There was no place for him here anymore, and I wasn’t about to waste another breath arguing.

By the time he stormed out, my resolve had only strengthened.

Later that afternoon, I arrived at the Jostum family’s estate as agreed.

The moment I entered, I saw Owen kneeling in the center of the hall, looking as if he’d been there a while. Bernard Jostum sat on the sofa, his face a hardened mask of authority.

“Grandpa,” I greeted softly, my voice steady as I approached.

Bernard’s gaze softened slightly. He motioned for me to come closer. “Carly, I’ve been informed of everything,” he said in a tone that demanded respect. “I asked you here to hear your perspective. Owen made a grave mistake, and he will face the consequences. But I want you to decide the terms.”

If this had been a year ago, I might have caved. But now, my mind was clear, and I knew exactly what I wanted.

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I began, my voice unwavering. “But there’s nothing left to decide. Owen and I are over. Whatever you do with him now is a family matter, and it has nothing to do with me anymore.”

The entire room fell silent and even became chilly. Owen’s mother, who had been pacing nervously nearby, shot me a desperate look, but Bernard raised a hand, stopping her before she could speak.

Bernard took a deep breath and asked quietly, “Carly, are you absolutely certain? Marriage isn’t a decision to take lightly, but if you end things, there will be no going back.”

I met his gaze and nodded. My decision was made.

Owen’s eyes found mine, desperation evident as he finally broke his silence. “Carly,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’ll end things with her. I swear, you’ll never hear her name from me again. Can’t you forgive me… just this once?”