The soft rustling of fabric accompanied Amelia as she folded yet another blouse and placed it into her suitcase.

The dresser held no keepsakes from her. The closet, half-empty, was filled with garments she’d bought herself. Not once had Adam thought to gift her something as simple as a scarf or a dress. Even her side of the nightstand was barren, save for the divorce papers tucked into the drawer.

She sighed, reaching under the bed for a small, dusty box. Inside were the thoughtful gifts she’d given Adam over the years: a leather-bound journal she had engraved with his initials, an expensive watch she saved months for, and a sleek pen she thought he’d use in pack meetings. All of them were untouched, forgotten.

“Let someone else appreciate these,” she muttered, setting the box aside for sale. Amelia thought that selling those things would be better than letting them all rot in the corner.

The sound of an engine outside drew her attention. She glanced out the window to see the sleek, black Maybach pulling up to the pack house driveway. Her stomach turned.

Asher. Asher, Adam’s younger brother, had been nothing but mean to Amelia from the day she married into the family. He was sharp-tongued and unapologetically hostile, his every word and action laced with disdain.

Having grown up alongside Bridgette, the woman he believed was destined to be Adam’s mate, Asher had built an image of what his sister-in-law should have been. Bridgette was familiar, kind, and deeply rooted in their world—a perfect match for his brother. But when she left, everything changed.

In her place came Amelia, a stranger in every sense of the word. To Asher, she was an intruder, someone who didn’t belong in their family. His bitterness toward her wasn’t subtle. He challenged her decisions, dismissed her efforts, and made it clear he saw her as an outsider.

She didn’t need to wait long. The door slammed, and heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Within moments, her brother-in-law appeared at the doorway, his smirk as sharp as a blade.

“Well, well,” Asher drawled, leaning against the frame with mock casualness. “If it isn’t the Alpha’s charity case.”

Amelia stiffened but didn’t stop folding her clothes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Selling things now?” He continued, nodding toward the box. “What’s next? A roadside stall? Or are you finally leaving this place for good?”

She calmly folded another blouse, her hands steady. “I don’t see how it concerns you, Asher.”

“It concerns me because I’ve spent the last three years watching you embarrass this pack,” he snapped, his tone turning cold. "Now that Bridgette is back, why don't you go back to where you truly belong?"

Amelia paused, her hands gripping the fabric in her lap. For years, she’d swallowed every insult Asher threw her way just to honor the deal she had with Aunt Camille, but now she didn't need to endure any of it anymore. The contract was done and she was leaving soon.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze for the first time. “I don’t belong here." She smirked, making Asher's eyes widen in shock. He didn't anticipate her response to be like that. Usually, Amelia would just bow her head and receive insults.

Her calmness seemed to unnerve him. Asher’s smirk faltered before he recovered. “Good riddance,” he muttered. Then, as if on cue, another car pulled up, this one far too familiar.

Amelia didn’t need to know who stepped out. She could feel the shift in the air, the way the energy around the house seemed to change.

“Looks like someone’s back where she belongs,” Asher said, his smirk returning.

Amelia turned her head as Bridgette emerged from the car. The woman was stunning, with flowing auburn hair and delicate, poised air. She carried herself like a Luna returning to her throne, her every movement graceful and deliberate.

Bridgette smiled warmly as she approached the house, her soft voice carrying up the steps. “Asher, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Bridgette,” Asher greeted, his tone dripping with affection. “It’s about time you came back. Things haven’t been the same without you.”

Amelia stepped aside as they exchanged pleasantries, feeling more invisible than ever. But then, Asher turned his attention back to her, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“Amelia,” he said with mock sweetness, “why don’t you help Bridgette with her luggage? It’s the least you can do.”

For a moment, the room felt still, as if the very house was holding its breath. Amelia met Asher’s gaze, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she straightened, her eyes flicking to Bridgette, who stood awkwardly by the door.

“No,” Amelia uttered, firm and composed.

Asher’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Amelia picked up her suitcase and walked past them without another word.

It wasn’t long before Adam arrived. The familiar growl of his engine made Amelia pause at the top of the stairs, her suitcase in hand. She descended slowly, her steps measured as she watched him step into the pack house.

Adam’s face lit up when he saw Bridgette, his smile wider than it had been in years. “You’re here,” he said warmly, pulling her into a brief hug.

Bridgette smiled shyly, glancing at Amelia as though hesitant. “I hope I’m not imposing,” she said softly.

“Not at all,” Adam reassured her quickly. “You can stay here as long as you need while the renovations are done. Amelia won’t mind, will you?”

He turned to Amelia, his expression expectant.

In the past, this moment would have set her heart racing with fury and jealousy. She had mastered the art of playing the part—acting heartbroken, pained, and possessive—just as everyone expected a devoted Luna to be. It was how she fooled them into believing she truly loved him.

But now, she didn’t need to pretend anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.

“Of course not,” she said, a small, composed smile playing on her lips. “I’m happy to help.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard. Asher, standing nearby, shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. In the past, even the mere mention of Bridgette’s name would have triggered Amelia’s anger or jealousy. Yet here Bridgette was, standing right in front of her, and Amelia looked entirely unaffected.

For a moment, the room felt heavy with unspoken questions. Adam’s gaze lingered on her, puzzled, while Asher frowned, as though trying to decipher the shift in her demeanor.

Amelia caught their reactions and felt a quiet amusement bubbling within her. She almost laughed at their stunned expressions, their inability to comprehend the calm in her voice, and the indifference in her gaze.

It was funny, really—how she had once played this part so convincingly, bending herself into someone she wasn’t for the sake of appearances. But now, none of it mattered. She would be leaving soon, free from this charade.

A banquet was arranged to happen before her departure.

The grand hall shimmered with opulence, the glow of chandeliers casting warm light over rows of lavishly set tables. The room was alive with chatter and the subtle clink of crystal glasses. Pack members were gathered in clusters, their hushed conversations rippling through the air like the hum of a restless forest.

Seated quietly at a chair behind Adam, Amelia maintained her poise. Her placement, however, spoke volumes. Beside the Alpha sat Bridgette, radiant in her carefully chosen gown. The contrast wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. Amelia—the supposed Luna—was relegated to the background, while Bridgette took the place of honor at Adam’s side.

Adam rose to address the room, his commanding voice silencing the crowd. “Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the strength of our pack but also to honor the connections that make us unbreakable.” His tone was steady, but there was an unmistakable warmth when he glanced at Bridgette. “I’d like to introduce Bridgette, who is not only dear to me but to our pack. She’ll be staying with us from now on.”

The room rippled with murmurs, eyes darting between Amelia and Bridgette. Amelia caught snippets of whispers.

“So, she’s the real Luna.”

“The fake one should step aside. Everyone knows she’s not strong enough.”

“She never even got the Alpha's affection. That says it all.”

From across the room, Asher leaned back in his chair, his smirk sharp and cutting. “Well, isn’t this fitting,” he drawled, loud enough for Amelia to hear. “The Alpha’s Luna sits in the shadows while the real Luna shines.”

Amelia met his gaze, her expression calm, almost amused. The remarks weren’t new. For three years, she’d endured such petty jabs, each one met with the same practiced indifference. Inside, however, she couldn’t help but find it amusing how little they understood.

Adam’s voice broke through again. “Bridgette,” he said, signaling a servant forward with a small, ornate box. “This belonged to the previous Luna, a symbol of strength and unity within our pack. It’s time it was passed down.”

Amelia’s eyes flicked to the box as it was opened, revealing an intricately designed silver necklace, its centerpiece a luminous moonstone. She’d heard of it before—a treasure meant to signify a Luna’s rightful place beside her Alpha.

But Amelia had never received it.

“As the Alpha,” Adam continued, his tone brimming with purpose, “it’s my honor to entrust this to you.” He placed the necklace into Bridgette’s waiting hands.

The room erupted with whispers.

“She deserves it.”

“Bridgette is a true Luna. Not like her.”

“No wonder Amelia never got it. She’s weak.”

Amelia allowed a faint smile to curve her lips, though her amusement was far from kind. He couldn’t even wait until I was gone. He had to do it here, in front of everyone. It’s almost laughable.

Well, it was not as if the Alpha knew she would be leaving him soon.

And it was laughable, in its own twisted way. The Alpha, so sure of his righteousness, had no idea she would soon leave this charade behind. The irony made her want to laugh outright.

The evening continued with performances in the center of the hall. She-wolves danced gracefully to the rhythm of steady drums, their movements fluid and mesmerizing. The pack watched, captivated, the earlier tension melting into a semblance of calm.

But not for long.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—a she-wolf, her demeanor tense and charged. Her steps were deliberate, her gaze locked on Adam as she approached his table.

“Alpha Adam,” the woman called, her voice carrying a tremor of rage. She clutched a dark, ominous box in her hands. “You killed my husband!”

Gasps swept through the hall.

With a violent motion, she opened the box, revealing a bubbling black liquid. The acrid scent hit Amelia’s senses immediately. The liquid hissed, its malevolence palpable.

The woman was a rogue who slipped into the banquet with the help of her witch friend. In the past, Alpha Adam participated in a rogue hunting contest and killed the rogue woman's husband. Since that moment, she vowed to kill the evil alpha. Even if she had to put her life in danger, she urged her witch friend to give her the acid. She would kill the Alpha of Lotus Pack no matter what.

“I’ll make you pay!” The woman screamed, hurling the acid toward Adam.

Time slowed. Bridgette’s shriek cut through the chaos as Adam yanked her down, the pair dodging under the table just in time. The acid splattered against his chair, sizzling and eating away in the polished wood.

But not all of it.

Amelia’s sharp eyes tracked the remaining arc of liquid. It was coming toward her because Alpha Adam dodged the acid together with Bridgette under the table.

Time seemed to slow as the deadly substance hurtled closer. She growled, trying to pinch herself to get her act together.

Teleport, she thought to herself. Save yourself! No one else will.

But if she teleported now, in front of so many witnesses, her secret would be revealed. The Rising Moon bloodline--her rare and coveted ability-- would no longer remain hidden.

No one knows, she reminded herself, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Not Adam. Not Aunt Camille. No one.

Her mind raced. If her identity was exposed, it wouldn't end here. Wolves across the world would come for her. Rogues, packs, witches--everyone. They'd hunt her for the power she carried in her veins.

But the acid was mere seconds away. She had to make a choice!

Do it now! Or get hurt!

Her breath hitched. She had to decide.

Amelia gritted her teeth as the black liquid splashed across her arms and shoulders. A searing pain shot through her body, a white-hot fire that surged from the burns on her skin, sharp and unbearable. The acid had burned her flesh, leaving deep welts where it had touched. The skin around her arms and shoulders was already blistering, red and raw, and the pain made her stomach twist in revolt. It felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out, her whole body radiating the heat of the burns.

She stayed as still as she could, the only movement the tremble of her hands as she clenched them into fists, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry out. The pack was too distracted by the commotion, too preoccupied with Bridgette’s supposed peril.

"You're hurt." The Alpha was moving toward her, his face creased with concern, but just as his eyes locked on her, Bridgette’s high-pitched scream tore through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

“Oh no!” Bridgette’s voice was filled with exaggerated distress as she cradled her hand dramatically. “It hurts so badly! Please, help me!” Her voice quivered as she leaned toward Adam, her fingers gingerly brushing against the very tip of the acid, the smallest amount of contact that had left only a light red mark on her skin. It was nothing, nothing at all, but Bridgette acted as though it were the end of the world.

Amelia's lips curled into a wry smile at the absurdity of it all.

Bridgette, her eyes wide and her voice thick with false tears, turned to Adam, clutching his arm with both hands. “Alpha, I think Luna needs to be looked after first. Please, she’s been hurt far worse than me. You must help her.”

The words were honeyed and fake, dripping with an insincerity Amelia had grown far too accustomed to. She saw through it—knew exactly what Bridgette was trying to do.

Adam, ever the dutiful Alpha, hesitated for a split second, his gaze flicking between Bridgette and Amelia. But then, without a second thought, he turned completely to Bridgette. “Of course,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll get you to the infirmary.”

The irony of it was almost laughable.

She could feel the stares of the pack, some of them still watching, some of them looking away, as they tried to figure out what was happening. Amelia had been the Luna, the one who stood by Adam’s side for years. But tonight, she was nothing more than a backdrop to Bridgette’s theatrics. Her heart thudded in her chest, not with bitterness, but with a strange, detached sense of amusement.

Adam, oblivious to the true state of things, gently helped Bridgette out of her seat, ignoring Amelia entirely. “Let’s get you to the hospital, Bridgette. Stay close.”

Bridgette’s exaggerated sobs only grew louder, and she pressed herself against Adam, clearly savoring the attention. Amelia could only watch, her gaze growing colder, but still, no anger flared inside her. She was done pretending.

And Amelia was left alone.

Her mind was already elsewhere, detached from the scene around her. The pain in her arms and shoulders pulsed relentlessly. She stood, her breath shallow and strained, and made her way out of the banquet hall.

Her destination was clear—the infirmary.

The walk felt long, the weight of her injuries dragging at her every step. She could feel the acid still working its way deeper into her skin, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. But despite the agony, Amelia kept her pace steady. She had never been one to flinch in the face of pain.

When she reached the infirmary, she didn’t wait for anyone to tend to her. Instead, she found a seat on one of the cots, ripping the sleeves of her dress away from her skin to assess the damage. The burns were deep, dark patches of charred skin that oozed with a sickening, blistered fluid.

The sting was unbearable, but Amelia refused to show weakness. She’d suffered far worse.

As she sat there, waiting for the healer, her mind drifted. She wasn’t angry with Adam—at least, not in the way others might expect. She wasn’t bitter. The whole situation was just so… predictable. And funny. Because she knew the truth of it. She was leaving soon. All of this, the fake Luna role, the pack’s expectations, the tension with Adam—it would all be over. She was just waiting for Camille’s word.

Camille had been negotiating with the university, trying to ensure that Amelia’s return would go smoothly. Once everything was settled, once the papers were signed and the details confirmed, Amelia would leave. It was a matter of timing. There was no need for drama, no need for fights. She simply had to wait for Camille to send the confirmation.

And when that came, Amelia would walk away from this farce forever.

It was only a matter of time.

--

The phone call came through unexpectedly. Amelia stared at the screen, her heart beating slightly faster as she saw Camille’s name flash. She had been waiting for this, knowing the conversation was inevitable.

"Amelia," Camille’s voice crackled with a faint hint of excitement as she picked up. "I’ve got some news for you. Can you come meet me at my house?"

Amelia’s stomach fluttered with anticipation, and for the first time in days, she felt a sense of calm settle over her. This was it—the moment when everything she had been working toward would finally fall into place.

"Of course, Aunt," Amelia replied, her voice steady. "I’ll be there shortly."

The drive to Camille’s house felt longer than usual, though in truth, it was only a matter of minutes. Her mind was focused on the conversation ahead, wondering what Camille would say. When she finally arrived, Camille greeted her with a warm smile, ushering her inside.

"So," Camille began, settling herself comfortably into the couch, "I talked to the principal of that university you were concerned about. It’s all good, Amelia. You’re free to return anytime you wish. I’ve already vouched for you." Her voice was filled with quiet pride, and Amelia couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in her words.

Amelia’s heart swelled with gratitude, and she leaned back against the couch, her breath finally releasing from her chest. "Thank you, Aunt. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me." She met Camille’s gaze, her voice calm but steady. "I’m ready to go tomorrow. I want to leave tomorrow."

Camille’s eyes brightened, and she nodded immediately. "Okay, then. I’ll book your plane ticket, arrange everything you need for university. It’ll be done."

Amelia felt a wave of relief wash over her at the simple act of Camille’s support. There was no need for further words, but they both knew how much this meant.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Camille asked, her voice soft but caring.

Amelia hesitated for a moment, then shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile. "No, Aunt. That’s everything. I couldn’t thank you enough." She met her aunt’s eyes, trying to convey the depth of her appreciation without words. "I’ll never be able to repay you for this."

Camille’s smile faltered slightly, her gaze softening as she studied Amelia closely. "You don’t have to thank me, Amelia. You've done enough."

There was a brief silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Amelia knew Camille understood the weight of her decision, and that understanding was all she needed. But then, there was one last thing that had been bothering her—one last request that she had to make.

"I just have one more thing," Amelia said, her voice steady but firm. "If Adam asks where I’ve gone, please... don’t tell him. Tell him you don’t know." Her words came out almost in a whisper, but Camille’s sharp gaze caught the underlying tension in her voice.

Camille blinked, surprised by the request. "You didn’t want to tell him you were leaving?" She asked, her tone one of disbelief.

Amelia gave a small shake of her head. She thought to herself, What would I tell him? Should I tell him that I got close to him on purpose, that I played the perfect Luna because I was paid to do so? Should I tell him I was just doing a deal? Or should I tell him that I frantically chased after him, pretending to care, just so I could pull him together from the wreckage of his past relationship? Amelia let out a slow breath, shaking her head. None of it matters anymore. His first love, Bridgette, is back. Even if I leave, he won’t care.

"I don't want to inform him, Aunt."

Camille’s expression softened, her gaze sympathetic as she reached out to gently touch Amelia’s arm. "Amelia, I understand. You’ve had enough of all of this." There was a long pause as Camille let her words settle. "You don’t need to explain. I won’t tell him anything. You’re free to leave with no strings attached."