Chapter 2
Darren’s post went out swift and decisive.
As if he had been preparing all along to shove me straight into the abyss.
Yes, I was insignificant in his eyes. But he forgot—our two packs had once built a foundation of cooperation.
The moment he made that post, the Elders acted without hesitation.
Every partnership with Elden Pack was severed.
That evening, my assistant brought the news, his expression grim.
“Elden Pack’s companies have already lost seven points in market value.”
I stared out at the night, dark and merciless.
Then my phone lit up. Darren’s name.
“Scarlett! Was this necessary? Can’t you be reasonable?”
His voice blazed with frustration, seething anger.
“It wasn’t me—”
I barely began before his cold voice cut me down.
“Explain it to the Elders! Tell them to reverse their decision!”
And then—only the empty buzz of disconnection.
He knew. He knew my parents were gone long ago, that though I carried Alpha blood, I held no power.
The Elders had never listened to me.
I stared at the dead screen, my fingers trembling.
Emily, my wolf, panted harshly inside me, her voice a raw snarl:
“Scarlett, he betrayed us first. This is what he deserves!”
Yes.
Who was it, with crippling OCD, who scrubbed his skin raw if I so much as brushed his hand—yet swallowed Paisley’s spit without a thought?
Who was it, who promised our wedding would go on as planned—only to abandon me before the nobles, making me a spectacle, a laughingstock?
He thought he could play both sides.
He thought he could control the narrative.
But in the end, he crucified me on the pillar of shame.
And now he dared to accuse me?
Sensing my doubt, Emily’s voice deepened into a growl.
“We did nothing. This was the Elders’ judgment.”
A cold realization clenched my chest.
The Elders were using the storm of public outrage to corner the Elden Pack into ruin.
By the next morning, the company stock plummeted again.
Headline after headline scrolled across my screen:
[Elden Pack enterprise market value down another ten points.]
My eyes stung. My mind blanked.
Then the phone vibrated again.
Darren.
This time his tone had softened, dripping with contrition.
[Scarlett, can we talk? This mess helps no one. The company is bleeding.]
[It’s all my fault. Don’t blame Paisley. She has nothing to do with this. It’s me. I just don’t love you.]
The words on the screen stabbed through my eyes.
My fingers clawed tight around the phone, trembling, before I exhaled long and slow.
Finally, I typed back:
[You should talk to the Elders. I haven’t touched Paisley.]
I still wanted to defend myself.
But his reply never came.
He still didn’t believe me.
When I opened Instagram, the first notification was a suicide note.
Signed: Paisley.
[It’s all my fault. If not for me, Darren wouldn’t be suffering.]
My breath vanished.
My chest split open, the world plunging me into a frozen pit.
I dialed my assistant with shaking hands.
Minutes later, the car skidded to a halt outside the company building.
Screams and alarms pierced the night.
I tilted my head back—wind whipped the rooftop.
Paisley stood at the ledge, clinging to Darren’s sleeve with both fists.
The gale tossed her hair, streaks of tears staining her cheeks.
His tuxedo was soaked where her face pressed, dark with her sobs.
I froze, my throat locking tight, whispering hoarsely—
“He never… let me touch him.”
The tide of public opinion turned on me in a heartbeat, blades sharper than steel.
“If he doesn’t love you, leave! What else can you do but bully?”
“No wonder no one loves her. Ugly and pathetic.”
Comments surged, cutting deeper than any claw.
I stood on the edge of the crowd, wind slashing my ears.
The world collapsed around me.
Emily howled in my mind, furious, raging.
But my heart…
My heart was already going still.
