I didn't want this Luna position anymore.

His reply came almost instantly:

"Stop being dramatic, Sylvia. Tonight I'm taking you to meet my parents to discuss our mating ceremony details. Be good."

His tone carried undisguised impatience and superiority. No awareness of how wrong he was. Still thinking I'd come running back the moment he beckoned like a well-trained dog.

I didn't reply. Instead, I followed the address on his note to find that elegantly decorated but unfamiliar house.

I needed to find my mother's ring. It was the only thing I cared about now—hoping it was still among the things he'd packed up and hadn't been thrown away like everything else.

The moment I pushed open the door, warm yellow light should have felt welcoming. Instead, it made my blood run cold.

The entire living room wall featured a walnut bookcase—exactly the "dream bookcase" Victoria had posted about on social media last week. Even the brass bookends were identical to the ones she'd circled in red hearts.

On the beige chenille sofa, a dusty pink houndstooth throw was casually draped. The coffee table held a brass tray with unfinished coffee, a faint lipstick mark still visible on the rim.

Her lipstick mark.

I stared at the vintage green cabinets in the open kitchen, remembering how I'd specifically told Marcus I wanted a minimalist white design. "Clean lines," I'd said. "Something that feels like us."

This wasn't us. This was all her.

Walking into the master bedroom on plush wool carpet, I stopped breathing when I saw the Monet water lily painting hanging above the headboard. Last month at the art museum, Victoria had pouted while pointing at this exact painting.

"It would be so nice to have one at home," she'd whined, tugging on Marcus's sleeve.

Marcus had just smiled and patted her head. "Maybe someday."

Apparently, someday was now.

I stumbled against the wardrobe, my pale face reflected in its mirrored surface. Inside, my few clothes hung crooked in the corner like forgotten afterthoughts, while taking center stage was Victoria's Chanel spring collection that I'd seen her wear in dozens of Instagram posts.

A faint scent of moonflower drifted from the balcony—Victoria's favorite fragrance.

I was allergic to moonflower. Marcus knew that.

The platinum pendant I'd saved for months to buy him—a traditional werewolf courting gift—lay forgotten on the floor beside the bed. Tarnished and discarded.

I picked up the necklace and threw it in the trash.

If he didn't want it, what was the point of keeping it? Better to throw it away and be done with it.

I contacted a moving company to take my belongings away.

As I was placing my luggage outside the door, Victoria suddenly arrived with her beta wolf.

Victoria's gaze swept over my few packed boxes, her tone dripping with contempt.

"Well, well, Sylvia. Moving out, are we?" She examined her manicured nails. "Though I suppose this junk really shouldn't be cluttering up the place anyway."

I tried to ignore her, focusing on my boxes. Just get out. Just leave.

But Victoria's beta kicked over my packed luggage, sending my belongings scattering across the driveway.

"Victoria, you're just too kind," the beta sneered. "Some people are born to pick up other people's leftovers. This house was originally a mating ceremony gift the Alpha prepared for you. But your standards were too high—you didn't want it. That's the only reason certain people got lucky enough to live here."

My hands froze on the box I was lifting.

This house had been meant for Victoria originally?

The beta continued rifling through my scattered belongings. "Though we should make sure certain people aren't using this move as an excuse to steal your priceless jewelry."

"I heard Miss Sylvia got sent for 'special training' for four months just to become a proper mate for the Alpha!" She laughed cruelly. "How was it, Miss Sylvia? Did you learn to behave? Finally realize you're not good enough to be a Luna?"

My fists clenched, nails digging deep into my palms until I felt blood.

So this so-called new home was just garbage that Victoria had rejected. Hand-me-downs. Scraps from the princess's table.

"Are you finished?" I stood up slowly, my voice deadly quiet. "If so, please leave. You're not welcome here."

Victoria's eyes gleamed with malicious delight as she picked up my mother's healing crystal ring from the entryway table. The ring I'd been desperately searching for.

"This ring looks quite nice." She turned it over in her fingers like she was examining a trinket. "Sylvia, why don't you give it to me as a little gift?"

"Put it down!" The words tore from my throat.

That was the only keepsake my mother had left me. The only thing that connected me to her memory. I would never let anyone defile it.

Victoria held the ring high, her eyes full of malice.

"Put it down? That's not impossible." Her smile was poison-sweet. "Miss Sylvia spent four months at training camp learning proper behavior. You should know how to please people now, right?"

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Get on your hands and knees at my feet and bark like a dog. Make me happy, and I'll give it back to you. How about it?"

Rage consumed me. White-hot fury that made my vision blur.

I'd lost everything now. My home, my future, my dignity. I couldn't swallow this humiliation anymore.

"You bitch—"

I stepped forward, but before my hand could even strike, Victoria suddenly cried out "Oh!"

The ring slipped from her fingers—deliberately—and she stepped on it with her designer heel, grinding it into pieces against the concrete.

"Oops," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

I roared and lunged at Victoria. She seemed to have expected this—she twisted her ankle deliberately and threw herself backward with theatrical flair.

"BANG!" A car door slammed shut. Marcus appeared in the doorway like an avenging angel.

"Sylvia!"

SLAP—

A vicious slap struck my face, the sound echoing through the evening air. My head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind my eyelids.

"You vicious woman! Victoria came here to comfort you, and you actually pushed her!"

Marcus helped Victoria up, frantically checking if she was hurt. His hands were gentle as they traced her arms, her face, looking for any sign of injury.

"I didn't push her!" I held my burning cheek, trying to explain. "She's the one who destroyed my mother's ring! She did it on purpose!"

Victoria leaned against Marcus's chest pitifully, tears streaming down her face on cue.

"Marcus," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I was just trying to help Sylvia pick up her ring. She didn't hold it steady, and when it broke, she got so angry she accidentally pushed me."

Her performance was flawless. Academy Award worthy.

"Please don't blame her..." Victoria sniffled. "It's just that my ankle might be twisted. It hurts so much..."

"Sylvia, it seems those four months at the academy didn't teach you anything." Marcus's voice was ice-cold. "A leopard never changes its spots!"

He scooped Victoria into his arms, his expression tender and protective.

"Victoria, it's okay. We're going to the hospital right now!"

As Victoria nestled in Marcus's arms, she passed by me and flashed a triumphant smile that he couldn't see. Her eyes sparkled with victory.

I slowly crouched down, my hands shaking as I picked up the broken pieces of the ring. Each fragment cut into my palms, mixing my blood with my mother's memory.

Tears streamed down my face, but they weren't tears of sadness anymore.

They were tears of pure, undiluted rage.

Marcus... Victoria... I bit my lip hard, infinite hatred growing in my heart like a cancer.

Then I looked up at the security camera mounted by the neighbor's door and smiled slightly.

The red light blinked steadily. Recording everything.

Victoria, since you want to hold such a grand mating ceremony, let me add some "excitement" and make this ceremony more "spectacular."

After all, the truth has a way of coming out.

And I had front row seats to your little performance.

Game on, bitch.