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."

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft light over the room where Amelia stood, packing the last of her things. Her hands moved swiftly, folding clothes and placing them neatly into the suitcase. Every motion was deliberate, and precise—this was no ordinary task. This was the end of everything.

Her gaze lingered on the bed she had shared with Adam for the past three years. It was empty now, as it should be. Everything was about to change, and she had already decided. No more pretending. No more three-year contract. It was now done.

When she finished packing, she placed the divorce papers on the table. She stared at them for a moment, the finality of her decision sinking in. No more running after someone she never really loved. It was finally over.

Her hand hovered over the papers, gracing both of their signature. The alpha didn't even know he signed their divorce agreement. He was too busy thinking about Bridgette, messaging her every minute that he didn't notice he had already signed something this important.

It was ironic, and somehow funny.

As she walked towards the door, suitcase in hand, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. She turned just in time to see Asher standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Where are you going with that?” he asked, his gaze flicking between her and the suitcase.

Amelia didn’t even flinch. "I'm leaving, obviously." Her voice was calm, almost too calm, as if the weight of the decision had already been lifted from her shoulders.

Asher’s expression shifted to disbelief. It was as if until now, he could not adjust with the shift of Amelia's attitude.

"Your brother—Adam—he likes Bridgette," she said, a smirk laced on her lips. "You want Bridgette to be your sister-in-law, don’t you?"

Amelia’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes meeting Asher’s. "I took the initiative to divorce," she said flatly, the words ringing in the air like a death knell.

Upon hearing what she just said, Asher stood frozen, his shock evident. "What? You... you’re serious? You’re really going to divorce him?" His voice was hoarse as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Deep inside, he was overjoyed. He was waiting for this day eagerly. But at the same time, Asher was confused. The old Amelia he knew would rather die than divorce his brother.

Everyone in the pack knew how much Amelia had loved Adam—how she had done everything for him, for their pack. It wasn’t just devotion; it was obsession, a blind loyalty that the alpha had never reciprocated. Asher knew this as well as anyone, yet here she was, packing up her life and walking away without a second glance at the man she had loved for so long.

It was odd.

"Stop pretending," Asher muttered, his voice rising in frustration. "I know you love him. How could you divorce him? You’ve always wanted him, always..."

Amelia’s gaze hardened, and she let out a small, almost imperceptible laugh. "You can take a look at the divorce paper on the table," she said, her tone cool. "Convince yourself."

With that, she turned and made her way past him, toward the door. She didn’t need to say anything more. Her decision had been made, and there was no going back.

Asher reached out as if to stop her, but his hand dropped as soon as she passed. “Tell Adam,” he called after her, his voice tight with firmness. “Tell him where you’re going.”

Amelia didn’t stop. She didn’t even turn back.

But she did, for just a moment. Just long enough to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the hallway mirror. There it was again: the girl who had given up everything out of gratitude and accepted the deal, but finally, she could free herself now from the pretend-love she endured to show for so long.

Her heart twisted, somehow, she felt a little sorry for herself. Yes. The years of pretending—pretending to be in love when she was not, pretending to be what Adam needed, pretending to be something she wasn’t—had taken their toll.

She had wasted three years of her life, all for a love that wasn’t real.

And three years was enough. It was her time to achieve her dreams, to go to that exclusive university, and to avenge her parents.

She finally allowed herself to laugh, a low, hollow sound. "Shameless," she muttered to herself. "They've been so shameless."

She turned her back on the house and stepped out the door, her suitcase in hand, her mind already set on what came next. She wasn’t looking back anymore. Not at Adam. Not at Bridgette. Not at anyone.

The three-year contract was over. It was done. And now, she was free.

Every day from now on would be hers. No more pretending. No more hiding. She was free to chase her own dreams. Free to finally be herself.

Goodbye, Adam. Goodbye, everything. It was time to close that chapter and move on.

As she walked down the territory of the Lotus Pack, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of freedom. She breathed it deeply, a sense of peace settling over her. It had been a long time coming, but now, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

Amelia lugged her suitcase behind her, weaving through the bustling airport crowd.

As she waited for her taxi, her phone buzzed. The screen displayed Adam. A smirk curled her lips. Of course, he’d notice her absence now. He must have seen the divorce agreement by now, she thought.

She swiped to answer, holding the phone to her ear.

“What?” She said, her tone clipped.

“Where are you?” Adam’s voice was sharp, laced with irritation. “I just got back, and there’s no food on the table. What’s taking you so long? Get back here and cook something.”

Amelia’s fingers tightened around the phone. “I’m not coming back.”

"What?" His incredulous tone practically spat through the speaker. "Don't play games with me, Amelia. If you're trying to get my attention by acting like this, it won't work."

Upon hearing that, Amelia let out a humorless laugh, her irritation growing. "I'm not playing games. Cook your own freaking dinner. I'm done."

Adam's voice dropped, cold and condescending. "If you don't come back right now, I'll file for divorce. Don't push me."

The threat, one he'd wielded over her countless times, didn't have the same power it used to. Amelia's lips curled into a smile. She stopped outside the terminal and raised her gaze to the sky. "Go ahead."

Silence filled the line for a brief moment before his voice returned, tinged with disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," she said coolly. "File the papers. Make it official. It's overdue."

Before he could respond, Amelia hung up. She stared at her phone for a moment, feeling the last remnants of chains fall away. For years, she'd endured his empty threats, his neglect, and the cold loveless marriage--all for the sake of a contract. That contract was void now. She didn't have to endure anything anymore.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was a flood of text messages--everything from the Alpha.

[How dare you hang up on me first?]

[Where the heck are you?]

[If you don't answer, I'm filing for divorce right now!]

Amelia snorted and swiped through the messages, her amusement growing. For all his arrogance, Adam sounded more desperate than she expected.

She opened her contacts, scrolled to his name, and tapped Block without hesitation.