I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly. Squinting at the screen, I saw a flood of notifications—all from pack members. My stomach tightened as I scrolled through them.

"Have you seen what they've done?" Marcus's voice came through the door, his usually composed tone edged with anger.

I opened the curtains and felt my breath catch. Across the manicured lawn of our gated community, massive banners hung from trees and lampposts. "WHORE," screamed one in blood-red letters. "TRAITOR TO THE PACK," declared another. The morning sun made them glow with sickening visibility.

"They were put up overnight," Marcus explained, his face grim as he handed me a coffee. "Security cameras showed Emerald and two pack members doing it at 3 AM."

I sipped the coffee, letting its warmth steady me. "And social media?"

" Worse."

I opened Instagram to find Emerald's account had posted a professional-looking PDF—the same medical report from the christening, but now with highlighted sections and annotations. "PROOF: The Luna's deception!" The caption read. "How long has she been lying to us all?"

Comments flooded in beneath it:

"Always knew she was too good to be true."

"Alpha deserves better!"

"How could she bring another man's bastard into our pack?"

Bot accounts—I could spot them from the identical profile pictures and similar comment patterns. Emerald had planned this thoroughly.

My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled through the Silverveil Pack forums. Threads with titles like "The Truth About Our Luna" and "Who's Really Behind the Baby?" dominated the page. Members I'd known for years were posting vicious speculation about my "secret lovers" and questioning my "moral character."

"Mrs. O'Brien?" Marcus's voice pulled me back. "What do you want to do?"

I caught my reflection in the window—pale, shocked, with dark circles under my eyes. For a moment, I wanted to hide. To disappear with Liam and never face this humiliation again.

Then I straightened my shoulders. "Call my father."

---

Two hours later, I sat across from Dr. Ivan O'Brien in his private office at Seattle General Hospital. The space smelled of antiseptic and old books—a comforting combination that had anchored me since childhood.

"These reports," my father said, his surgeon's hands methodically dissecting the documents Emerald had produced. "They're forgeries."

"Can you prove it?" I asked.

He tapped a section highlighted in yellow. "This terminology—'oligoasthenoteratozoospermia'—isn't used in standard medical practice anymore. It was replaced by 'severe oligozoospermia' in the latest guidelines." He pointed to another section. "And this lab letterhead—the font is wrong. I've worked with Westlake Diagnostics for twenty years; their reports use Arial, not Calibri."

A knock interrupted us. Naya slipped in, her detective's badge glinting on her belt. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was hell."

"Find anything?" I asked.

She dropped a folder on the desk. "'Dr. Emerald Chavez' doesn't exist in any medical licensing database in the country." She flipped to a page showing a driver's license photo of a woman with the same name—but clearly not the same person. "This is the real Emerald Chavez. She's been dead for three years."

My father leaned forward. "So our Emerald..."

"Is a fraud," Naya confirmed. "And based on what I'm seeing in these reports, she's committed multiple felonies just with the forgery alone."

---

That afternoon, I sat in my home office with my laptop open to our bank accounts. Marcus stood guard outside the door as I systematically dismantled Benjamin's financial world.

First, the joint accounts—all three of them—frozen with a single click. Then the supplementary credit cards he'd used for "pack business" but which had paid for countless dinners with Emerald. Cancelled.

Next, I called the leasing company for the two luxury cars his mother drove around in—both in my name, both paid for with my money.

"I'm revoking authorization for all drivers except myself," I explained calmly to the manager. "Please arrange for their return by tomorrow."

"Of course, Mrs. O'Brien. Will there be anything else?"

I smiled, thinking of Benjamin's face when his card declined. "No, that will be all."

My phone buzzed with a text from Naya: "Just got word. Benjamin's at Tiffany's on Fifth Avenue, trying to buy Emerald a 'victory gift.'"

I closed my eyes, picturing the scene. The salesman's expectant smile as Benjamin handed over his black card—the one that had never been declined in his life.

"Would you like the gift wrapped, sir?"

"Yes, make it special."

"I'm sorry, sir. Your card has been declined."

The pack members shopping nearby would hear every word. Benjamin's face would flush that ugly shade of red it always did when he was embarrassed.

My phone buzzed again: "It's happening. He's losing it."

I set the phone down and returned to my computer. There was still more work to do. After all, if Benjamin wanted war, I would give him one he couldn't win.

I was reviewing the security footage from our gates when Naya burst into my office, her face pale and eyes wide.

"Chelsea, we need to talk." She closed the door behind her, her detective's instincts automatically scanning the room for listening devices.

"What is it?" I asked, setting aside the tablet showing Benjamin and his mother arguing with the guards.

Naya placed a thick folder on my desk. "It's about Emerald."

I braced myself against the desk. "Worse than identity fraud?"

"Much worse." She opened the folder, revealing surveillance photos of Emerald meeting with shadowy figures in abandoned warehouses. "We've been tracking her burner phone activity."

"And?"

"She's not just a con artist, Chelsea." Naya's voice dropped to a whisper. "She's connected to the Blackwood trafficking ring."

My blood turned to ice. "The child traffickers?"

Naya nodded grimly. "We've been monitoring their operations for months. Emerald's phone has been pinged at three different drop sites."

I stared at the photos, trying to process this revelation. "But why target Benjamin? Why our pack?"

"Because she's been 'procuring' children under the guise of adoption and surrogacy fraud." Naya's fingers traced a diagram of the trafficking network. "Wealthy families, private adoptions—perfect cover."

The implications hit me like a physical blow. "She doesn't just want to displace Liam," I whispered. "She wants to sell him."

Naya's eyes met mine, confirming my worst fears. "That's why we need to move carefully. If she suspects we know..."

I straightened my spine, forcing down the terror threatening to overwhelm me. "I need to see her face when she thinks she's winning."

---

The Bellvue Café was exactly the type of place Emerald would choose—pretentious enough to impress, public enough to create a scene. I'd arranged to meet my lawyer here, knowing Emerald would show up to gloat.

I spotted her the moment she walked in, her crimson dress cutting through the sea of business casuals like a knife. She made a show of checking her watch before approaching my table.

"Chelsea," she purred, sliding into the seat across from me. "How... resilient of you to be out in public."

I kept my expression neutral as I sipped my latte. The recording app on my phone blinked steadily in my pocket.

"Emerald." I nodded politely. "I didn't realize you were a café regular."

"Oh, I'm not." Her smile was venomous. "But I had to come see you after you froze Benjamin's accounts. Such a... dramatic gesture."

I set down my cup carefully. "Did you need something?"

"Just to deliver a message." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I will be the new Luna by the end of the month. And once I am, I'll make sure your little bastard is sent to the best orphanage money can buy."

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my face impassive. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes." Her eyes glittered with malice. "Benjamin agrees with me that the pack deserves a proper heir. Not some... outsider."

I reached for my phone, pretending to check the time while ensuring the recording was still running. "I see."

"Do you?" She leaned closer, her perfume suffocating me. "Because I don't think you understand what's coming. You've lost everything, Chelsea. The pack, your husband, your reputation."

I met her gaze steadily. "Enjoy the throne while it lasts, darling."

Confusion flickered across her face at my calm response. She'd expected tears, begging, perhaps even a scene. Instead, she got ice.

---

"Are you sure about this?" Marcus asked as we finalized the details for the live broadcast.

I nodded, checking the contract for "The Pack Truth" one last time. "It's the perfect trap."

"And if it backfires?"

"Then I'll deal with it." I signed my name with a flourish. "But it won't."

The production team had been ecstatic when I called. A live DNA test to prove the paternity of a pack Alpha's child? Ratings gold.

"Benjamin's agreed to be there?" Marcus asked.

"Of course." I smiled thinly. "The prospect of a public divorce settlement was too tempting. He still thinks he can get half my fortune."

"And Emerald?"

"Will be right beside him, planning her victory party."

Marcus's phone buzzed with a message. "Naya says the FBI is ready. They'll be in position during the broadcast."

I nodded, feeling a strange calm settle over me. "Then let's give them a show they'll never forget."

As I hung up the phone, I caught sight of Liam sleeping peacefully in his nursery across the hall. For him, I would burn Emerald's world to the ground.

The stage was set. The players were in position.

And I held all the cards.

The studio lights blinded me as I adjusted my position in the makeup chair. Behind the scenes of "The Pack Truth," I could hear the production team scrambling to prepare for what they thought would be the scandal of the year.

"Mrs. O'Brien?" A woman in a dark suit approached, flashing a badge. "I'm Special Agent Sarah Chen with the FBI. We need to finalize our arrangements."

I nodded, gesturing for her to sit beside me. "Are your people in position?"

"Front three rows are all ours," she confirmed, her voice low. "The moment Emerald confirms her involvement on camera, we'll move in."

Naya appeared at my shoulder, her detective's instincts making her scan the room constantly. "The recording equipment is ready. We've bypassed the studio's feed—what the audience sees will be what we want them to see."

I studied my reflection in the mirror, applying a final touch of lipstick. The woman staring back at me wasn't the broken Luna from the christening. This was a woman ready for war.

"The DNA test is legitimate," I said to Sarah. "But the real evidence is in these files." I handed her a thick folder. "Emerald's financial transactions with the Blackwood syndicate. Money laundering, child trafficking—it's all there."

Sarah's eyes widened slightly as she flipped through the pages. "This is enough to bury her."

"Not just her," I replied, thinking of Benjamin's smug face. "Both of them."

---

The lights dimmed as the show began. I sat rigidly in my chair, watching Benjamin take center stage. He'd dressed impeccably for his performance—a tailored suit that I'd paid for, a watch I'd gifted him, and the practiced expression of a wounded Alpha.

"Our viewers are tuning in from across the country," the host announced, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "Today, we're here to resolve one of the most shocking scandals in pack history."

Benjamin leaned forward, his eyes glistening with tears that I knew were as fake as Emerald's medical degree. "I came here today seeking truth," he said, his voice breaking perfectly. "As Alpha of the Silverveil Pack, I deserve to know if the child my wife carried is truly mine."

The audience murmured sympathetically. I caught sight of Emerald in the wings, her crimson dress catching the light as she prepared to make her entrance.

"Joining us now is Dr. Emerald Chavez," the host continued, "who has conducted extensive testing on Alpha Benjamin's fertility."

Emerald glided onto the stage, every inch the professional in her white coat with fake credentials embroidered on the pocket. "The medical evidence is clear," she stated, her voice carrying authority she hadn't earned. "Alpha Benjamin's condition makes natural conception virtually impossible."

She turned to me, her smile venomous. "Which raises the question—whose child is Chelsea really carrying?"

The audience gasped. I remained silent, letting them dig their graves deeper.

"Chelsea," the host prompted, "would you like to respond to these allegations?"

I reached for the folder beside me. "Actually, I'd like to present some evidence of my own."

Emerald's smile faltered slightly as I handed the folder to the host.

"Inside, you'll find documentation proving that Dr. Emerald Chavez does not exist in any medical licensing database in the country."

The host's eyes widened as she flipped through the pages.

"That's absurd," Emerald sputtered, but I could see panic flickering behind her eyes.

"Is it?" I asked calmly. "Then perhaps you can explain why Dr. Ivan O'Brien, Chief of Surgery at Seattle General Hospital, has provided this statement."

The studio screens flickered to life, displaying my father's professional testimony. His authoritative voice filled the studio: "I have reviewed the medical reports attributed to Dr. Emerald Chavez and can confirm they contain multiple inconsistencies with standard medical practice."

Benjamin's face paled as he turned to Emerald. "What is this?"

Before she could answer, I pressed another button on my remote. Emerald's voice filled the studio—the recording from our meeting at the café.

"I will be the new Luna by the end of the month," her voice sneered through the speakers. "And once I am, I'll make sure your little bastard is sent to the best orphanage money can buy."

The audience fell silent. On the monitors showing social media feeds, I watched as the tide began to turn. Comments that had been viciously attacking me moments before now expressed horror and disgust—at Emerald.

"Chelsea," Benjamin stammered, "I didn't know—"

"You didn't know?" I cut him off, my voice ice-cold. "Or you didn't care?"

Emerald stood frozen, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her as federal agents began moving toward the stage.