Nathan’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "How long have you known, Hannah?" he asked, his eyes blazing like twin embers.

I backed up a step, my palms raised defensively. “An hour, Nathan. I swear. That’s why I stopped you from going into the study room.”

Nathan’s jaw ticked, his fists clenched at his sides. “You shouldn’t have stopped me! I should’ve seen it with my own damn eyes. Let them know I’m not someone they can betray without consequences.”

“You would’ve made a scene!” I argued, my voice rising. “Your Dad is dying, Nathan. Do you really want his last memories to be you tearing the family apart?”

He flinched as if I’d slapped him, but the anger didn’t leave his face. “They already tore it apart, Hannah. Cecelia, of all people? And Dean? My own brother?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. Honestly, I didn’t know how to process it myself.

Nathan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You expect me to just stand here and do nothing?”

“For now? Yes,” I said, my voice softening. “At least until we figure out what to do. This isn’t the time to burn bridges. Not yet.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, his fury warring with something softer. Reluctantly, he nodded, but the tightness in his jaw told me he wasn’t convinced. Without another word, he stormed past me, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

I exhaled, slumping against the wall. “What now?” I muttered to myself. The weight of everything threatened to crush me, but there was no time to fall apart. Not yet.

Later that evening, I sat in my father’s study, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. His once-powerful presence was now a frail shadow, but his eyes were as piercing as ever.

“You want to sever the bond with Alpha Dean?” my father repeated, his voice weak but laced with curiosity.

"Yes, because Dean has betrayed me. He’s…” My voice cracked, but I forced myself to continue. “He’s been with Cecelia.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my words settling like a storm cloud. My father let out a weary sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they held none of the outrage I’d hoped for.

“Hannah,” he said slowly, “break up with Dean if that’s what you want. But don’t let their mistakes define your life. Let them have each other if that’s what they want.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Are you… Are you taking their side?”

“I’m taking no side,” he replied, his tone measured. “I’m asking you to choose peace over conflict. This family has had enough turmoil.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let the tears spill. “Right,” I said stiffly, rising to my feet. “Thanks for the advice.”

As I left the study, I almost collided with Dean in the hallway. His towering presence made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.

“There you are,” he said casually, as if nothing had happened. “Start preparing for Cecelia’s birthday. She’ll want everything perfect.”

I blinked, stunned by his audacity. He didn’t even mention my birthday from two weeks ago. No cake, no flowers, not even a word. Yet here he was, planning Cecelia’s celebration like it was the event of the century.

“Okay,” I muttered, not trusting myself to say more.

Dean gave a curt nod and walked away, his steps confident and unbothered. I watched him go, my chest tightening with a thousand unsaid words.

Once he was out of sight, I pulled the pregnancy test from my pocket. Two lines stared back at me, clear as day. My heart sank. I was carrying his child. And yet, I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing.

I needed to leave this place. Leave him. Leave all of them.

That night, I tried to convince myself to sleep, but the door creaked open, and Cecelia sauntered in. My eyes widened in shock. She was wearing my dress.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, sitting up.

Cecelia twirled in front of the mirror, a smug smile on her lips. “It looks good on me, doesn’t it? Thought I’d borrow it.”

“Borrow?” I hissed. “Without asking? That dress was Mom’s. She gave it to me.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re sisters, Hannah. We share things.”

Something inside me snapped. “We don’t share everything, Cecelia,” I spat. “Take it off. Now.”

She crossed her arms, her expression defiant. “No. You’re being ridiculous.”

I shot out of bed, my anger boiling over. “Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.”

When she didn’t move, I grabbed the hem of the dress, yanking it hard. The fabric tore with a loud rip, and Cecelia gasped in outrage.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, stumbling back.

Before I could answer, the door burst open, and Dean strode in. His eyes darted between us, landing on the torn dress in my hands.

Cecelia’s expression shifted instantly. Her lips quivered, and she clutched the torn fabric to her chest. “Dean,” she whimpered, “Hannah attacked me. I was just trying to borrow a dress, and she…”

My heart pounded as I stared at her, my fury giving way to disbelief. “You’re lying!” I shouted, but Dean’s face was already darkening.

“Are you out of your mind, Hannah?!" He scoffed.

Dean’s voice was sharp and unrelenting as he towered over me. “You need to stop treating Cecelia like an outcast, Hannah. She’s your sister.”

I blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity. My sister. Right. The same sister who had wormed her way into every corner of my life, tearing apart everything I held dear. And now he wanted me to be kinder to her?

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “I’m treating her like an outcast?” My voice shook, my emotions barely held in check. “Do you even hear yourself, Dean? I’m the one being treated like I don’t belong. Every time something happens, you’re always rushing to her rescue, not mine.”

He stiffened, his jaw tightening, but I wasn’t done.

“You leave me behind every single time,” I continued, my voice rising. “You coddle her, protect her, as if she’s your mate. So why don’t you just admit it, Dean? What is Cecelia to you?”

Dean’s gaze flicked to Cecelia, standing demurely by the door in the ripped remains of my mother’s dress. His hesitation was like a slap to my face. For a fleeting moment, I thought he might actually tell me the truth.

But instead, he turned back to me, his face a cold mask. “She’s like a sister to me, Hannah. That’s it. I don’t know what crazy idea you’ve gotten into your head, but you’re being ridiculous. Lunatic, even.”

My chest tightened. He was lying. I could feel it in my bones. But before I could respond, Cecelia stepped forward, her face the picture of innocence. “Hannah, you’re overthinking everything. Dean and I are just close. That’s all.”

Their lies came so easily, so smoothly, it made my stomach churn. How could they stand there and say these things, knowing what they’d done? Knowing how they’d betrayed me?

I swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Turning to Cecelia, I forced a bitter smile. “Well, since you’ve got the dress now, happy birthday in advance.”

Cecelia blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but I didn’t wait for her to respond. I brushed past both of them, my steps purposeful as I headed outside.

The crisp night air hit my face, and I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me. The garden was quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to disappear. To leave all of this behind.

“Hannah?”

I turned to see Nathan walking toward me, his expression softer than I’d seen in years. His anger from earlier had dissipated, replaced by concern.

“You okay?” he asked, stopping a few steps away.

I shook my head, unable to lie to him. “No. I’m not.”

He hesitated, then stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “What happened now?”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope. Nathan had always been my protector in his own way, even when he was brash and impulsive. Maybe… maybe he was the answer.

“Nathan,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “I need your help.”

His brow furrowed. “With what?”

I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could second-guess myself. “I need you to pretend to be the father of my baby.”

Nathan stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, my tone firmer this time. “I can’t let Dean know. If he finds out, he’ll use the baby to control me. I can’t… I can’t let that happen.”

Nathan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps away. “Hannah, do you realize what you’re asking? People will think—”

“Let them think it,” I cut in, my voice rising. “Let them think whatever they want. We both know the truth. And we both know who the real cheaters are here.”

He stopped pacing, turning back to me. His expression was conflicted, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice breaking. “Nathan, I need to protect this baby. Please.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his jaw working as he processed everything. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you. But we need a plan.”

Relief flooded through me, and I managed a small, shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Later that night, I returned to my room, my mind spinning with the details of the plan Nathan and I had crafted. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

I pushed open the door, only to freeze in my tracks. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared at something in his hand.

The breath left my lungs when I realized what it was. The pregnancy test.

He looked up as I entered, his eyes sharp and unreadable. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, his voice low. “Is it mine?”

My heart pounded, the air around me growing thick and suffocating. This was it. The moment of no return.

I straightened my spine, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes narrowed, but before he could speak, I added, “But it’s not yours.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“It’s Nathan’s,” I lied, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Dean’s expression shifted, a flicker of shock breaking through his stoic mask. For the first time, he looked truly shaken.

And for the first time, I felt like I had the upper hand.

I stood at the edge of the kitchen, arms elbow-deep in sudsy water as I scrubbed a stubborn dish. The clinking of glass and the hum of chatter floated through the air as the maids flitted about, adding final touches to the extravagant party. Cecelia’s birthday. Dean had spared no expense—gold-trimmed tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and a cake so large it could probably feed a small village.

He treated her like royalty, like she was the goddess this entire territory had been waiting for. His mate, me? I was just another servant in the background, invisible.

I refused to let it bother me. Not when Nathan and I had our plan brewing. Every slight, every insult would soon be avenged.

"Still slaving away, Hannah?" Cecelia’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a knife.

I turned to find her leaning casually against the doorway, her red silk dress hugging her curves. She looked every bit the part of the spoiled princess, her lips curling in a smirk that made my skin crawl.

"Such a good sister," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Helping out with my party. Truly selfless."

I ignored her, dunking another plate into the water. She thrived on getting under my skin.

But then she took it a step further. "Though I can’t say I blame Dean for treating me better than you," she added, her voice lowering. "I mean, look at you—plain, pathetic, and desperate."

I froze, my hands tightening around the sponge. The anger bubbled up before I could shove it down. I spun around, fixing her with a glare.

"At least I’m not a spoiled brat who needs constant attention to feel important," I shot back, my voice calm but laced with venom.

Her smirk faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. Before she could retort, Dean appeared, his tall frame cutting between us like a wall.

"Hannah," he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "Don’t make a scene."

My blood boiled, but I forced a tight smile. "Maybe you should watch over your dog," I said, my voice sweet and cutting. "She’s the one barking, after all."

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. Cecelia let out a huff and stormed away, her heels clicking against the polished floor. I grabbed a towel and wiped my hands, barely sparing him a glance before heading upstairs.

Nathan stood by the window at the far end of the hallway, his gaze fixed on the crowd below. Cecelia and Dean were easy to spot in the sea of people, their laughter and flirtation loud even from here.

The tension in Nathan’s posture was palpable, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Still staring at them?" I said softly as I approached.

He turned, his expression dark. "It’s hard not to."

I nodded, understanding all too well. "Come on," I said, motioning toward my room. "Let’s talk."

Once inside, I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. Nathan paced the small space, his agitation rolling off him in waves.

"I want to expose them," I said, my voice firm.

Nathan stopped pacing and turned to me, his brow furrowed. "Now?"

I hesitated, the weight of our father’s declining health pressing on me. "No," I admitted, sighing. "It’s not the right time. Not with your Dad so sick. It would only stress him out."

Nathan’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded reluctantly. "You’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch them parade around like this."

His tone was bitter, and when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, my heart sank.

"I was going to propose to her tonight," he said, opening the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring. "For her 23rd birthday."

The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. Nathan’s heartbreak was raw and palpable, and it made my own pain feel insignificant in comparison.

"I’m sorry," I said softly, stepping closer. "But maybe this is a sign that she wasn’t meant for you. You deserve someone better, Nathan. Someone who won’t betray you."

He gave me a small, sad smile. "You’re kind, Hannah. Even when you’re hurting, you’re thinking of others."

His gaze lingered on me, and suddenly the air between us shifted. It was subtle at first—a strange, electric tension that made my pulse quicken.

"Nathan…" I started, unsure of what I was feeling.

But before I could finish, there was a sharp knock at the door.

We both froze, and when the door swung open, Dean stood there, his expression dark and unreadable.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The room fell into a tense silence. My heart pounded as I met Dean’s gaze, his eyes flicking between me and Nathan. I knew that look. He wasn’t just suspicious—he was furious.

And I like to see the jealousy in his eyes.