Chapter 3
Ella's POV
The butler knocked and entered, dressed in a tailcoat, carrying a silver tray.
He set breakfast before me with a respectful bow. "Luna, you have a board meeting at ten this morning, and at three this afternoon you're presenting the quarterly report to the Therapist Association. Your driver will be waiting downstairs at eight-thirty."
I nearly spit out my coffee.
"Luna? Board meeting? Therapist Association?" I snapped my gaze to Damian, my voice pitching up half a note without meaning to. "He's talking to me?"
Damian shot me a warning look. The message couldn't have been clearer: shut up, don't blow our cover.
He waved the butler off and poured himself a glass of whiskey — whiskey at seven in the morning, very werewolf of him.
"I looked into it," he said. "You're currently the most well-known wolf therapist in this city. People in the community call you 'Miracle Doctor Ella.' You've saved at least twenty lives. The entire Blackwood family's medical enterprise is under your name."
I stared at my hands.
These hands that three years ago could only cook and take notes — they could save lives now? I didn't even have a clear grasp of basic human anatomy.
"I don't remember any of it," I said. Obvious, of course I didn't.
"I know." He took a sip of whiskey. "But your body does."
Then he leaned in again, nose hovering just above the side of my neck, right over the mate mark. His pheromones hit me like a wall — thick, overwhelming, inescapable.
Three seconds. Five. Seven.
He jerked back, expression dark.
"Sorry." The word came out through clenched teeth, laced with obvious irritation. "Every time I get close to you, my wolf goes restless. It recognizes you. My mind doesn't."
"Then stay away from me," I said coldly — even though somewhere deep inside, half of me was screaming: don't go.
"You think I don't want to?" He drained the rest of his whiskey. "My wolf won't allow it. It knows you're its mate. It doesn't care whether I have my memories or not. It only cares whether you're here."
He produced a formal document with a gold-embossed cover, stamped with the Blackwood family's wolf-head wax seal.
The title read: Provisional Mate Relationship Memorandum.
I flipped through it.
Article One: Both parties shall present themselves as an affectionate couple in public.
Article Two: Neither party shall disclose the amnesia to any third party.
Article Three: The agreement remains in effect until the truth is established.
He was afraid I'd run to Lucas and spill everything.
"The annual shareholders' meeting is next week," Damian said. "Leaders from every major pack will be there. If word gets out that Graystone's Alpha and his Luna don't recognize each other — that the bond is broken — other packs will move on our territory before the weekend is over."
"So you want me to put on a performance."
He nodded. "In exchange — an apartment in the city center, fifty thousand dollars a month in allowance, and round-the-clock personal protection. In public, you have to act like my mate — hold my arm, smile, the occasional kiss on the cheek. No need to share a bed, but you must share a bedroom."
I let out a dry laugh. "Three years ago you wanted me gone from this city. Now you want to play the loving husband?"
Those gray eyes looked at me, something churning beneath the surface.
"Three years can change a lot. I have it harder than you do — at least you can pretend I'm a stranger. Every time I look at you, my wolf, every cell in my body is telling me 'she's yours.'"
I was quiet for a long time.
I couldn't fully understand what he was going through — the tug-of-war between reason and instinct, between memory and bond.
But I couldn't deny my own body's reaction either. My heart raced whenever I got near him. Something inside me reached toward him, whether I wanted it to or not.
In the end, I nodded.
The mate bond was already locked in place. I had no power to break it — not yet, anyway.
And I needed time. Resources. Answers.
"Deal."
He didn't smile. He just walked toward the door and said, without looking back, "Ella — whether you believe it or not, I don't want this either."
The door clicked shut.
The board meeting was scheduled on the thirty-eighth floor of Blackwood Group headquarters.
By the time I stepped into the elevator, my palms were already soaked. I discreetly wiped them on my skirt and prayed no one noticed.
The conference room was large. The long table seated twenty, and each seat had a gold-engraved nameplate in front of it.
Mine read "Luna."
Damian's seat, at the head of the table, was empty.
It didn't matter whether he showed up or not. Everyone in the room already knew who actually called the shots.
When I sat down, a dozen pairs of eyes swept toward me all at once.
But the one thing that gave me a small measure of comfort was this — the me from three years later had apparently done well for herself. Every person I'd encountered in the building today looked at me with respect, even admiration. None of the naked contempt and rudeness I'd known three years ago.
In Graystone, the me of three years later wasn't Damian's accessory. Not a Luna with a title and nothing to show for it.
I was a leader who could hold my own.
Too bad I had absolutely no memory of how I'd gotten here.
And worse still was the immediate problem: I couldn't understand a single thing on the meeting materials.
The moment the first slide appeared, my brain crashed entirely.
"AKX Inhibitor Phase III Clinical Trial Data." "Cross-Species Blood Biomarker Screening Report."
I recognized every letter individually. Strung together, they were gibberish.
A middle-aged Beta in a dark gray suit stood at the projector, rattling off a string of technical jargon that was completely beyond me.
"— Based on the inhibitor protocol Luna proposed last session, we ran a controlled trial on volunteers. Results show a 30% improvement in physical performance indicators, but adverse event rates increased by 9% —"
He stopped.
And looked at me.
Everyone looked at me.
Waiting.
My heart rate spiked. But my expression had to stay calm — I forced it to. The Ella Blackwood of three years later would know what he was talking about. The "Miracle Doctor" would have an answer.
I gave a small nod. "Continue."
My voice was steady. Thank God it didn't shake.
He kept going. Under the table, I had my fist clenched so tight my nails were digging into my palm.
It hurt. But the pain kept me present.
Every time someone glanced at me, I gave a slight nod.
"Mm." "Go on." "Double-check that data."
I had no idea if I was saying the right things, but from their expressions, it seemed like I wasn't blowing my cover.
My blouse, however, was soaked through.
"That concludes the Q3 overview for the medical division." The presenter closed his folder and sat down.
I let out a slow breath. Finally.
Then the CFO spoke up.
"Luna, one last item. Regarding the project gap left by Lucas Blackwood — would you prefer the original team to take it over, or should we pull people from headquarters?"
The CFO — a Beta in gold-rimmed glasses.
Perfect. I'd been looking for a way to ask about Lucas.
"Lucas? What project was he handling?" I kept my tone casual, like I was just checking in on routine business.
I'd asked the wrong question.
Every person in the room went rigid. Then silence — not the awkward kind. The fearful kind.
My stomach clenched hard. The Ella of three years later wouldn't be asking this.
"Lucas Blackwood," I said again, pushing through. "You all know who I'm talking about?"
No one answered.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses adjusted his frames and looked away.
The female manager beside him dropped her eyes to her folder and flipped through the same page over and over.
The secretary in the corner stared at her monitor, fingers hovering motionless above the keyboard.
The silence was thick enough that I could hear my own heartbeat.
Gold-rimmed glasses cleared his throat. "Luna, this matter —"
I'd had enough. I stopped caring.
"What happened to him?"
Another stretch of silence.
Under the table I had my skirt bunched up in my fist. My mind was screaming: stop, don't push it, they're going to suspect something.
The female manager closed her folder. Her voice dropped so low it was almost inaudible. "He was exiled. Two years ago."
"Exiled?" My voice jumped before I could stop it. I pulled it back down, but it was too late — I caught several people exchanging glances.
"A Graystone expulsion order." She kept her eyes on the table, not on me. "Permanently barred from family territory. Forbidden from contacting any pack member. Forbidden from —"
"That's enough." Gold-rimmed glasses cut her off and produced a practiced professional smile. "Luna, you know the details better than any of us. After all, it was because of you that — it was the Alpha's direct order."
I froze.
Damian had personally ordered Lucas's exile?
Because of me?
Lucas — his most trusted lieutenant. His own brother. Three years ago at Dark Moon, Damian had humiliated me without a second thought, but I could see he had a protective streak when it came to Lucas.
It was me he looked down on. Not his brother.
So what on earth had happened that made him drive his own flesh and blood out of the pack?
The fingers holding my pen were trembling slightly. I could feel every set of eyes in the room stuck to my face, crawling like ants.
Say something. Now. Right now.
"I know." I heard my own voice — dry, unfamiliar. "Just wondering how he's doing these days. Proceed with the previous plan. Meeting adjourned."
I had no idea what "the previous plan" was, but no one pressed me. They stood, gathered their files, and filed out of the conference room.
The last person out glanced back at me before quietly pulling the door shut.
I sat alone in the empty room.
I looked down at my hands.
They were shaking. I couldn't make them stop.
I needed the truth.
But first, I had to figure out how to actually be this "Miracle Doctor" — because at the next meeting, I wouldn't even be able to hold it together long enough to say "continue."
