“Did I hear that correctly?” Zevran Silverhaze’s deep voice rose in disbelief. “You value me enough to hand over your council shares?”

When I stayed silent, he let out a low laugh.

“Then I’ll accept them. But in exchange, I have a gift for you, Amarise. How about signing a lifelong pact with me?”

“You always loved wandering beyond pack borders, didn’t you? I’ve invested in a grand inter-pack travel chronicle. I’m still missing the right voice to lead it.”

I stiffened. “But I’m no longer young and my image—”

“It’s never too late,” Zevran cut in calmly. “Fifty-five is nothing. The Amarise I remember was the brightest Moon-Voice to rise from the High Academies.”

He didn’t ask what I had endured. His tone left no chamber for refusal, as if fate itself had already aligned.

“Forget Blackspire. Look forward. I’ll come for you when I return from this journey.”

He was still just as forceful as he had been in his youth.

After a long pause, I exhaled. “Alright. I accept, Zevran.”

Yes. My life was only beginning. This time, I would live it for myself.

Emric did not return to the pack manor that night.

At dawn, he sent a message ordering me to bring breakfast to the council tower. “Prepare two portions. We have company.”

For thirty years, he had refused anyone else’s cooking. Fevered or exhausted, I still rose before dawn to prepare his meals.

An hour later, I pushed open the doors of his office—and froze.

Corinne stood there in a pale-gold jacket and fitted skirt. At her feet lay my favorite painting, torn to pieces, scattered across the stone floor.

Where it once hung now stood a new sculpture.

My mind went blank. Then anger surged.

“Who did this?” I shouted. “That was my painting!”

Corinne widened her eyes and covered her mouth lightly. “Oh no. I thought it was useless clutter—it was so unpleasant to look at. I replaced it with my own work. I’ll give you another someday.”

That painting was the only piece Emric and I had ever completed together, during a journey we once called our most precious memory.

Emric, flipping through documents, didn’t even look at me. He took the thermal container from my hands.

“No need. That thing had no value. Now that Corinne’s piece is here, this office finally has taste.”

He brushed past me toward her, careless enough to knock me aside. I fell hard.

Broken frame nails pierced my palm. Blood spilled instantly, pain sharp enough to steal my breath.

As I struggled to rise, my gaze caught something in the corner—soft pink undergarments, casually discarded.

My chest tightened as if crushed by an unseen claw.

But Emric saw none of it. Not the blood. Not the truth.

When Corinne looked up at him with teary eyes and said softly, “Emric, there were nut seeds in the oat stew. I’m severely allergic. I almost died,” his face darkened at once.

Without hesitation, he dumped the meal I had spent an hour preparing into the trash.

Then he glanced at me on the floor with cold contempt.

“Stop acting weak, Amarise. Get up and clean that trash. And don’t ever put nut seeds in food again.”

With that, he led Corinne away to enjoy a luxury breakfast in the upper district.

My body shook. My palm throbbed. Hot tears finally spilled.

That evening, at Corinne’s celebration feast, I saw him holding her hand, refusing to let her carry even a small pouch.

“Hands that shape art should be treated like a goddess’s.”

Yet I had spent half my life serving him like a low-ranking pack servant—scrubbing, cooking, enduring—no one ever asking if I hurt.

At home, I dabbed salve onto my wound and began sorting through every gift Emric had ever given me.

Each festival, he bought things in pairs. I once thought it was thoughtfulness, until I saw the truth through a hidden crystal-feed. Everything he gave me, he gave her as well.

Not a single gift was meant only for me.

He simply could not let her lack anything.

By the time I finished, the sun was already sinking. I didn’t even fix my hair before rushing to fetch my grandson, Nolan, from the academy.

As Nolan walked out with his classmates, a few cubs laughed and pointed.

“Hey, Nolan, is that your grandma?”

His face flushed. Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! She’s our pack servant!”

Then he held up a magazine image of Corinne, radiant and refined. “This is my grandma. She’s a famous sculptor!”

My ears rang.

This was the cub I had raised with my own hands.

While my son and his mate managed pack affairs with Emric, I had fed him, healed him and sung him to sleep. And now he denied me.

To him, I was shame.

In the carriage, Nolan kept his head down, staring at his shoes or the passing road.

This time, I said nothing.

No scolding. No correction.

Only silence—and the quiet mockery of the woman I had become.

When we reached my son’s home, Nolan whispered, kicking the ground, “Grandma… aren’t you angry?”

I looked at him calmly. “Nolan, do you want a different grandmother?”

“If you do,” I said softly, “I’ll help you get one.”

I handed him to the nanny and drove away without looking back.

When I returned to the pack estate, exhaustion weighing on my bones, the first thing I saw was the moon-harp piano dumped on the lawn like scrap.

Inside, Ronan stood at the entrance, hauling several large travel trunks inside.

“Mother,” he said coolly, “Aunt Corinne will be staying within our territory for some time. She dislikes noise, so I cleared out your music chamber and turned it into a sculpting hall for her.”

I stared at him. In that moment, I understood—I no longer belonged. I was an eyesore, a remnant left behind, stubbornly occupying a place where I was no longer wanted.

That piano had been his eighth naming-day gift to me, bought with every coin he had saved that year.

He once sat beside me in the sunlight, laughing, fingers tapping the keys, clinging to my arm and saying he loved me most. That cub was gone.

Swallowing the ache, I forced a smile through the tears pressing at my eyes.

“So this is how you treat your mother now.”

Unease flickered across his face—brief, awkward—when soft footsteps sounded behind him.

Emric stepped into the yard with Corinne at his side. His gaze was as cold as Ronan’s as it landed on me.

“Corinne fears the dark. Your chamber receives the most sunlight. Move out and let her stay there.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll take my things and leave.”

They had expected protest, perhaps tears. My calm answer clearly startled him.

“Amarise—”

“Oh, Amarise, you’re far too kind,” Corinne interrupted with a sweet smile. “Let’s live in harmony during this time.”

I didn’t look back. I turned and went upstairs.

One by one, I dragged out heavy storage bags. Each held years of silence, endurance and unspoken sacrifice.

When I tossed thirty years of memories into the disposal wagon, Emric followed, his brow furrowed.

“Why are you throwing away so much?”

“Just things I’ll never need again.”

My tone unsettled him. He reached into a bag and froze.

“These… these are the things I gave you.”

I smiled faintly. “Things from decades ago should’ve been discarded long ago.”

Just like certain people.

His expression darkened. “You used to cherish them.”

I had. Anything from him once made my heart light, clutching it as if it were the world itself.

But forever was too long. A heart soaked in betrayal couldn’t bear it.

I brushed past him. “There’s someone new in this house now. You never liked crowded spaces, did you?”

He seemed about to explain that Corinne’s stay was temporary, but I was already loading the last of my belongings into the carriage.

He sighed. “There’s a banquet tonight. You haven’t attended one in years. Come along with Corinne.”

He hadn’t brought me to a formal gathering in a long time. Since I aged and gained weight, I no longer fit beside him.

At the banquet grounds, they stepped out first.

The host smiled brightly. “Alpha Blackspire, your Luna is as radiant as she was in her youth.”

Emric didn’t correct him. He simply took Corinne’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“And this lady is…?”

Only then did he glance my way. A brief pause—then indifference. “She’s our aide.”

I stood rooted in place. I had expected it, yet it still felt like my chest had been split open.

Holding back the burn in my eyes, I lifted my head and walked inside with the last of my dignity intact.

Corinne clung to Emric’s arm, swirling her wine as they moved through the noble packs with ease, every inch a bonded pair.

I stood apart, a shadow watching from the edge. The laughter, the splendor—none of it belonged to me.

Then, without warning, sharp agony tore through my injured right calf.

In an instant, cold sweat soaked my back.

The old wound from the carriage accident flared violently. The leg that had once been shattered by moon-forged steel throbbed with every heartbeat. I had no choice but to ask for a chamber to rest.

What the banquet stewards gave me was a narrow storage chamber—cold, unlit, sealed off from the main halls.

The moment I stepped inside, a sharp click sounded behind me.

The door locked.

Outside, Corinne’s voice rang out, sharp with triumph.

“Emric has always belonged to me. You pitiful woman who chased him for decades—so what if you were bonded to him? His heart was never yours.”

“You saw it tonight, didn’t you?” she continued mockingly. “I sat beside him in the front seat of the wolf-carriage. This moon-silk gown? Your daughter chose it for me. This limited starsteel timepiece? Your son bought it. They all adore me—not you.”

My leg screamed in agony. Sweat poured down my face as I pounded on the door, my voice breaking.

“Take him. Take all of them! Just let me go to the healer’s hall. I’m begging you!”

“Dream on,” she said coldly. “I won’t let you ruin my night. Stay here and learn where you belong.”

A placard was hung on the handle—Do Not Enter · Under Moon Ward Maintenance. Her heels clicked away, fading into silence.

I collapsed onto the frozen floor, strength drained. Reaching for my communicator, my heart sank.

No power.

“Help me!”

I slammed my fists against the sealed door until my voice gave out. The chamber was too far from the main halls, the night too quiet. No one came.

At last, the pain swallowed me whole and darkness took me.

***

Two hours later, when the banquet ended, Emric still hadn’t seen me. Irritation creased his brow as he scanned the hall.

“Didn’t I tell her to behave and stay put? Where did she wander off to now?”

Corinne held his arm, guilt carefully painted on her face.

“Did she leave because you called me your Luna? If I’d known she’d be upset, I would have explained.”

Emric snorted. “Everyone tonight was pack nobility. With how she looked, she would’ve embarrassed me. Corinne, I’m glad you were there. You saved my dignity.”

“Amarise always exaggerates. Let her sulk. Let’s go back.”

Corinne cast a smug glance toward the storage corridor, silent victory curling her lips.

And I remained locked in that dark chamber, completely forgotten.

Not one person in that family remembered me.

***

The next morning, when Nolan needed to be taken to the academy, my son finally noticed my absence.

“Why isn’t she here yet? Do you know what time it is?!”

When my communicator went unanswered, he didn’t try again. He simply waved it off and told the nanny to handle it.

I was eventually released by a citadel attendant.

After recharging my communicator, there were no messages from Emric—no concern, no questions.

What greeted me instead was a blazing headline across the crystal screen:

[The reclusive Luna of Blackspire revealed to be a master sculptor. A perfect match—an Alpha of power and a woman of rare elegance.]

Weak and hollow, I stared at it and smiled bitterly.

Then my communicator rang.

For one fleeting second, I thought it might be Emric.

But the name flashing on the screen was Zevran.

The moment I answered, his voice came through, tense with worry.

“Amarise, I called you all night. What happened? Are you alright now?”