The glittering chandeliers and lively music at the party had lost their charm. I felt like an outsider among the laughter and elegance. Darius was nowhere to be seen, probably still with Princess Fraulein. I couldn’t bear to stay another moment.

Without saying a word to anyone, I slipped outside, the cool night air hitting my skin. A cab waited nearby, and I waved it down.

“Cornelia Village,” I told the driver as I climbed into the backseat.

The cab started moving, the soft hum of the engine the only sound. I leaned my head against the window, watching the lights of the city blur past. My heart felt heavy, weighed down by everything that had happened.

But then, an uneasy feeling crept over me. My hands grew clammy, and my heartbeat quickened for no apparent reason.

Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked the driver, trying to mask my fear.

He didn’t answer, his eyes wide and fixed on something ahead. I followed his gaze and gasped. Three massive figures stood in the middle of the road, their glowing eyes piercing the darkness.

Werewolves.

My stomach twisted in fear. Before I could think of what to do, the wolves lunged at the car. Their claws scratched at the doors, their snarls echoing in my ears.

“Drive! Please, drive!” I screamed at the driver, but he was frozen in terror.

I clutched the door handle, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. This couldn’t be happening.

Just when I thought all hope was lost, blinding headlights lit up the road. Another car screeched to a halt behind us.

A familiar figure stepped out, exuding confidence and authority. Vincent Doyle.

“Back off!” he commanded, his voice a low growl that sent chills down my spine.

The wolves paused, their snarls turning into uncertain whines. Vincent stepped closer, his posture radiating dominance. The wolves backed away slowly, their massive bodies retreating into the shadows until they disappeared.

I stared at him, stunned. “How… how did you do that?”

Vincent turned to me, his expression calm. “Get out of the cab. I’ll take you home.”

I didn’t argue. My hands shook as I climbed out of the car and into his. As I buckled my seatbelt, I glanced back at the cab driver, who still looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Let’s go,” Vincent said, his tone firm yet gentle.

The ride home was quiet. I kept stealing glances at Vincent, trying to piece together what had just happened.

“You’re safe now,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

I nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “You don’t need to thank me. Just be careful next time.”

When we reached my house, I hesitated before stepping out of the car. “Thanks again,” I said softly.

Vincent handed me a small card. “Here’s my number. If you’re ever in danger, call me.”

I took the card, feeling a strange warmth in his gesture. “I… I will.”

He gave me a nod and added, “Stay safe, Ingrid.” Then he drove off, leaving me standing by my door, my mind a swirl of emotions.

Inside, I leaned against the door, trying to process everything. My life had turned upside down in just a few hours.

Before I could gather my thoughts, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Darius.

“Ingrid,” he said, his voice steady but distant. “Where are you?”

“I went home,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

There was a pause before he said, “I’m staying with Princess Fraulein tonight. She had too much to drink, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”

The words felt like a dagger to my heart, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Okay. Take care of her,” I said, ending the call before he could say anything else.

I sank onto the couch, my chest tight with frustration.

Out of habit, I opened my social media app and searched for Princess Fraulein’s profile. Her latest post was the final straw.

A picture of her and Darius, his arm casually draped around her shoulders. The caption read [Reunited with the Alpha once again.]

Jealousy and anger churned inside me. I was nothing more than a secret, an afterthought in Darius’s life. Meanwhile, he was openly reconnecting with someone like her—a princess.

My gaze drifted to the card Vincent had given me. His words echoed in my mind: “You don’t need to let him treat you this way.”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone and dialed Vincent’s number.

He answered on the second ring. “Ingrid?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “Your offer… about marrying you. I’ll do it.”

There was a pause, and then he said, “Good. You won’t regret this.”

There was silence on the other end, and then Vincent’s calm voice came through. “Just call me when you're ready.”

As the call ended, I stared at my phone, unsure if I had just made the boldest or most foolish decision of my life.

The morning light streamed through the windows, but it did little to chase away the gloom that hung over me. I opened my eyes, hoping for a message or missed call from Alpha Darius. My heart sank as I reached for my phone—nothing.

He hadn’t come home.

I stared at the blank screen for a long moment before deciding to call him. Maybe he had a reasonable explanation. Maybe this wasn’t what it seemed. I dialed his number, the ringing echoing in my ears.

“Hello?” a soft, feminine voice answered.

I froze. My throat tightened as I recognized the voice. “Princess Fraulein?” I whispered, disbelief and dread mixing in my chest.

“Yes, this is Fraulein,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “Who’s calling, and why are you trying to reach Alpha Darius?”

My mind raced. Fraulein had no idea about me or what I meant to Darius—or rather, what I thought I meant to him. I couldn’t tell her the truth.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I must have dialed the wrong number.”

Before she could respond, I heard his voice in the background, light and warm. “Who’s on the phone, love?” Darius asked, his tone laced with affection.

Fraulein laughed softly. “No one important,” she replied, her voice growing fainter as they spoke to each other.

I hung up abruptly, my hands trembling. The phone slipped from my grasp onto the bed.

The silence of my room felt suffocating as I sat there, my mind replaying their voices over and over. My eyes wandered to the familiar corners of the space—the dresser where Darius would lean while teasing me, the bed where we shared countless nights together.

Tears welled up, spilling over as I buried my face in my hands. It was over. Whatever we had, whatever I thought we had, was over.

His greatest love had returned, and I was nothing but a fleeting distraction.

I stood, wiping my face with shaky hands. I couldn’t stay here. Not in this room filled with memories, not in this town where his name was on everyone’s lips.

I opened my closet and began packing, each item feeling heavier than the last. Every piece of clothing, every trinket, reminded me of him. The pain was almost unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going.

By the time I finished, my suitcase was packed, and my heart felt like it had been ripped apart. I dragged my luggage down the street, heading toward the train station. Leaving was the only option.

As I neared the station, a black car pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, and Vincent Doyle leaned out, his sharp features softening as he saw me.

“Leaving town, Ingrid?” he asked, stepping out of the car with an air of calm confidence.

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have a reason to stay anymore.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “So, you’re giving up?”

I frowned. “What else can I do? He’s made it clear where his heart lies.”

He stepped closer, his tone steady but firm. “Do you remember what I told you? About our deal?”

I hesitated, looking away. “I don’t know, Vincent. Everything feels so wrong.”

He placed a hand on my suitcase, stopping me. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But running away won’t fix anything. If you want to take back control, if you want revenge then come with me. Stay at my mansion. Let’s make Darius realize what he’s lost.”

His words lingered in the air, tempting and bold. Part of me wanted to keep walking, to disappear and start over somewhere far away. But another part, a stronger part, wanted to stand my ground.

“Okay,” I whispered, nodding.

Vincent took my suitcase and placed it in the trunk of his car. I climbed into the passenger seat, my thoughts spinning. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled away from the station.

As we drove, my phone buzzed incessantly. I glanced at the screen—dozens of missed calls and messages from Darius.

[Ingrid, where are you?]

[Why did you leave without telling me?]

[Come back. We need to talk.]

The final message was filled with fury: [COME BACK NOW!]

My chest tightened as I read his words, but anger quickly replaced the pain. He had no right to demand anything from me—not after what he had done.

I took a deep breath, opened a new message, and began typing.

[I’m leaving. I’m going to marry Vincent Doyle, your stepbrother. You can’t stop me. And I’m no longer your rebound.]

I hit send and stared at the screen for a moment, my hands shaking.

Then, I blocked him without hesitation.