CLOVER

Howard’s warning lingered in my mind: “Brace yourself, Clover. This is just the tip of the iceberg.” Yet after Tanya’s dramatic departure, he withdrew from me entirely. The distance between us grew, his cool and unreadable demeanor leaving me with more questions than answers. Was he avoiding me because of the kiss—or was there something more?

Howard’s absence, however, gave me time to bond with Blaire. She was the light in the mansion’s ever-present shadows. Her resilience and curiosity captivated me, and I found myself wanting to bridge the gap between us.

One quiet morning, I took the leap. As Blaire stacked her blocks, I softly said, “Hello.”

Her wide-eyed shock froze her in place, but as I smiled and signed, her delight was contagious. I told her my voice was a secret, one she had to keep. She promised with a vigorous nod, and for the first time in years, I felt a connection that eased the ache in my chest.

That connection was tested one afternoon when Blaire slipped on a block. I lunged, catching her just in time, a cry of her name escaping my lips. Relief flooded me—until I looked up and saw Howard in the doorway, his face a mask of shock.

“You can talk,” he said, his voice low and sharp.

Blaire’s small hands clung to me, her wide eyes darting between us as Howard rolled closer. His gaze was like a blade, cutting through every excuse I wanted to make.

“How long?” he demanded.

I swallowed hard. “Always.”

His expression darkened. “Your father made you stay silent, didn’t he?”

I nodded, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“And you never thought to trust me with this?” His tone softened, but the disappointment in his voice hit harder than anger ever could.

Blaire signed something, her small hands pleading for peace. Howard exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “This isn’t over, Clover,” he said firmly. “But Blaire comes first.”

That night, as I lay tangled in guilt and confusion, a knock startled me.

“Come with me,” Howard’s voice called through the door, steady and commanding.

I followed him down the dim corridors, my heart pounding with every step. His office felt colder than usual, the shadows clinging to the corners like secrets.

“Talk,” he said as soon as the door shut.

I hesitated. “I didn’t think you’d trust me if I spoke,” I admitted.

“Trust isn’t built on lies,” he snapped, then softened. “But it’s not irreparable either.”

His tone shifted suddenly, cutting through the tension. “The kiss was for Tanya to see,” he explained, his words a dagger to my chest. “She needed to know I’ve moved on. That’s all.”

I nodded, my voice steady despite the ache. “I understand.”

Howard’s gaze hardened, as though steeling himself for what came next. “Tanya and I were fated mates,” he began, his words sending a chill down my spine. “But no one could know. Our families were sworn enemies.”

Over the next moments, he unraveled a story of love, betrayal, and heartbreak. Secret meetings, a forbidden pregnancy, and Tanya’s decision to abandon not just him, but Blaire.

“She thought she succeeded in erasing the child,” he said, his voice cold. “But I ensured Blaire survived. I took her and severed all ties with Tanya.”

My mind reeled. Tanya’s bitterness, Howard’s guarded nature—it all made sense now. We were more alike than I’d realized: two people left broken by rejection, yet still standing for what we loved most.

“Why tell me this now?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

Howard’s smirk returned, softer this time. “Because you deserve to know. You’re not just Blaire’s mother. You’re my Luna.”

The weight of his words settled over me like a mantle I wasn’t sure I could bear.

As I turned to leave, Howard’s voice stopped me.

“One more thing,” he said, his tone darker. “Tanya’s visit wasn’t just about me. She’s hiding something—and I intend to find out what it is.”

The intensity in his eyes sent a chill down my spine. Whatever Tanya was hiding, I had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t just threaten Howard’s world—but mine as well.

CLOVER

The air in the Oakshade Pack’s manor was electric, a mix of grandeur and suffocating tension that wrapped around me like a noose. Lucille and Thomas’ wedding was everything I had expected—over-the-top, meticulously planned, and utterly hollow. My lavender gown, carefully chosen by Howard, felt out of place, a cruel joke in the face of my past with the groom.

Howard’s hand rested lightly on my arm as we entered the hall, his sharp eyes scanning the room with a protective intensity. He didn’t need to say it; I knew he was watching for any sign of trouble. The tension between us, forged from secrets and truths that had unraveled over the past few weeks, felt almost comforting now—an anchor in the storm of emotions I was trying to suppress.

Before we could take our seats, a servant approached me hesitantly. “Luna Clover,” she said softly, eyes darting nervously toward Howard, “Lady Lucille has requested your presence in the preparation room.”

Howard’s hand tightened on my arm. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for argument if I said yes.

I shook my head and signed, I’ll be fine. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded, his gaze lingering on mine as I followed the servant.

The bride’s preparation room was a gilded cage, every surface shimmering with opulence. Lucille stood in the center, her ivory gown clinging to her like armor, while Margot hovered nearby, a smug smile plastered across her face. Their twin expressions of mockery greeted me before a single word was spoken.

“Clover,” Lucille cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’m so glad you could make it. It must be... difficult for you, attending this wedding.”

I didn’t respond, keeping my expression neutral as I stepped further into the room.

Lucille’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing like a predator sensing weakness. “Do you know why Thomas rejected you?” she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial. “It was me. I told him you weren’t good enough. That you were cursed.”

Margot’s laugh rang out, high and cruel. “And he listened. Poor, mute Clover, left behind while we had our fun.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, but I refused to react. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Lucille stepped closer, her perfume sickly sweet as she leaned in. “We’ve been together ever since. Even before his rejection, I had him wrapped around my finger. And now?” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m pregnant. Thomas and I are starting a family. Something you’ll never have.”

The words hit like a blow, but I kept my mask in place, my face unreadable. Instead, I met her gaze and signed, Congratulations.

Lucille’s smirk faltered, just for a second, before she recovered. “Run along, then,” she said dismissively. “Your crippled husband is probably waiting.”

Her words echoed in my ears as I left the room, my heart pounding. The hallway felt too small, too quiet, until I saw Howard at the far end, waiting. His sharp gaze softened when it met mine, and he wheeled toward me with a calm that steadied my trembling hands.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

I forced a small smile and signed, Nothing important. Let’s get this over with.

Howard didn’t press, but his eyes lingered on mine, as if he could see every crack in the mask I was desperately holding together. Together, we entered the hall, the ceremony already starting.

The doors to the altar opened, and Thomas stood there, waiting. His gaze flicked to me, lingering for a moment too long, and something unreadable passed through his eyes. But it wasn’t his expression that made my heart stop.

Tanya stood among the guests, her posture regal, her gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over Howard and me. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips, her eyes locking on Howard with a gleam of intent.

She was planning something. I could feel it in my bones.

And as the first chords of the wedding march filled the room, I couldn’t help but wonder—was I walking into a celebration or a trap?

CLOVER

The wedding celebration was a spectacle—all golden grandeur and hollow laughter. Guests danced and mingled, their voices a symphony of feigned joy. I lingered at the edges, Howard’s steady presence at my side, though even he couldn’t silence the storm brewing inside me. My lavender gown felt suffocating, an emblem of the farce unfolding around us.

A servant approached, her voice barely audible over the revelry. “Luna Clover, Alpha Logan requests your presence in his office.”

Howard’s hand tightened on the armrest of his wheelchair. His eyes locked onto mine, a silent question: Are you sure?

I nodded and signed, I’ll be fine.

He hesitated but finally said, “Call if you need me.”

The manor’s hallways were too familiar, each step dredging up memories I’d rather forget. When I reached my father’s office, the door loomed heavy and foreboding. I pushed it open, and there he was, Alpha Logan, seated behind his massive desk, his presence a suffocating weight.

“Close the door,” he ordered, his voice as sharp as I remembered. I complied, the sound of the latch echoing in the tense silence. “Sit.”

I obeyed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

“How is the Red Obsidian Pack treating you?” he began, his tone deceptively casual. “Obeying your Alpha husband like a good little Luna?”

I nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.

His eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. “What is Howard hiding? High fences, locked gates—what’s behind them? Tell me his weakness.”

My silence was his answer.

His face darkened, and he rose abruptly, circling the desk. “Speak!” he demanded. “You’ve been mute long enough. It’s time to prove your worth.”

I shook my head, my refusal stoking his fury. His hand shot out, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “You will speak!” he bellowed.

When I didn’t, his palm cracked across my cheek, the force of it leaving my vision blurry. Pain flared, but I bit back tears, refusing to crumble.

“You’re nothing without me,” he sneered. “Unwanted. Useless. Don’t forget that.”

A growl echoed in my mind. Enough, Cleo snarled.

“Stop it!” The words erupted from me, my voice reverberating in the room. Logan froze, his shock mirrored in my own trembling limbs.

The door burst open. Thomas and Lucille rushed in, their faces pale with disbelief.

“Clover,” Thomas said, his voice hushed. “You can talk?”

I ignored him, locking eyes with my father. “You will not lay a hand on me again,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside. “I am not yours to control.”

Thomas stepped forward, but before he could reach me, Howard’s presence filled the doorway like a thundercloud. His wheelchair moved with commanding precision, his voice low and lethal. “Don’t touch her.”

Thomas froze, his hand dropping. Howard’s gaze shifted to Logan, cold and unyielding. “If you ever hurt her again, I will end you.”

For the first time, I saw fear flicker in my father’s eyes. He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare.

Howard turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Come with me,” he said softly.

The ride back to the Red Obsidian Pack was silent, tension thick in the air. Howard’s jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When we reached the mansion, he paused only to glance back at me. “Come to my room.”

I followed, confused and hesitant. Inside, he motioned to the bedside drawer. “There’s a first aid kit. Bring it here.”

I retrieved it, handing it over. Howard opened it and gestured for me to sit. “You’re hurt.”

Realization struck as I touched my cheek and saw the faint bruises on my wrists. Reluctantly, I sat. He dabbed antiseptic on my skin with surprising gentleness. “You didn’t deserve what he did to you,” he said, anger simmering in his tone.

“This is the first time anyone’s cared for my wounds,” I signed, my hands trembling. Tears threatened to spill, but I looked away.

Howard stilled, his hand resting on mine. “Not anymore,” he said softly. “You’re not alone here.”

His words stirred something fragile inside me. As he cleaned the cut on my cheek, his eyes met mine, and for a moment, the weight of the world lifted.

But the moment shattered with a sharp knock at the door. A guard entered, his face tense. “Alpha, Tanya and Thomas are at the gates. They’re demanding to see you.”

Howard’s expression darkened. “Keep them outside. Don’t let them in.”

The guard nodded, but the tension lingered. Howard’s gaze bore into mine. “They’re here for something. And I won’t let them have it.”

Another knock, softer and hesitant, broke the silence. My heart stilled as realization struck. There was only one person it could be.

“Blaire,” Howard murmured, his voice filled with equal parts fear and resolve.