Toric tensed every muscle, braced for my questioning, my collapse, or hysterical sobbing and clawing—but I did none of that.

I just knelt in the center of the living room, hugging that portrait, crying so hard my whole body shook. My tears soaked the face of 'Toric' in the frame.

His expression stiffened for a moment, clearly not expecting me to accept his 'death' so readily.

After all, in the news that had reached the tribe, it was clearly Silas—the twin brother with the crescent-shaped birthmark on the inner side of his right arm—who had been killed by the silver dagger.

"Luna..." He reached out awkwardly as if to support me, but I grabbed his wrist.

My nails dug viciously into the bandage wrapped around his forearm. That spot should have held the crescent moon birthmark, but he had gouged it out to impersonate his brother.

Pain made his muscles spasm, but he forced himself to endure it when he met my tear-filled eyes.

"Grieve properly," his Adam's apple bobbed, "Alpha's spirit in heaven wouldn't want you to keep suffering like this."

"You're right." I suddenly let go of his wrist and wiped away my tears. "I should pull myself together."

After all, from today onwards, I, Thalia, was officially a widow. That meant I wouldn't need anyone's permission to terminate the pregnancy I was carrying.

People always said Toric and Silas were so alike even their own mother couldn't tell them apart.

Toric himself believed that after removing the birthmark, impersonating his brother would be flawless.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

Even without that birthmark, no matter how perfectly he mimicked Silas's gait and tone, some things could never be faked.

Moreover, I was his mate. How could a mate fail to recognize their other half bonded by the mate bond?

In my past life, I was foolish enough to grab every pack member, screaming hysterically to prove: "The one alive is Toric! Silas is dead!"

But Toric stubbornly refused to admit it, and Evelyn even slapped me publicly: "Can't stand being a widow, so you try to steal someone else's man?"

Gradually, the looks from the pack shifted from pity to annoyance.

It wasn't until I was tested and found pregnant that I regained a flicker of hope. I thought, once the child was born, Toric would surely acknowledge us, right?

During that time, he was indeed gentler. Although he still insisted he was 'Silas', he would come to take care of me.

When the infant's cry filled the delivery room, he grasped my sweat-soaked hand and said, "You've worked hard, Thalia!"

That single sentence banished all my doubts.

Silas had only ever called me “Luna”.

Exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke, the cradle was empty.

Toric sat by the bed, his face etched with deep sorrow: "The baby... couldn't be saved. Sudden respiratory distress."

Once again, he spoke those words to me:

"Luna, grieve properly..."

I stumbled out of the pack clinic. My wolf soul, overwhelmed by grief, dissipated.

I became a madwoman.

"Toric" was dead. My child was dead.

"Silas" rightfully ascended to the Alpha position and moved with Evelyn into the luxurious mansion in the west, living a life envied by all.

As for me? I became the laughingstock of the Shadowmoon Pack.

"Toric's back! Toric's back!"

Day after day, I sat on the weather-worn stone at the crossroads, shrieking at every passing man. Children followed me, laughing and mimicking my madness:

"Toric's long dead! Crazy woman!"

Their laughter pierced my temples like silver needles. I leaped up: "My child! Give me back my child!"

They scattered like frightened rabbits.

And so, I drifted between madness and lucidity for three whole years.

Until one night, in a hallucination, I saw my child standing at the edge of the woods, beckoning to me.

I chased after him into the darkness, only to step into nothingness and plummet into a hunter's trap lined with sharpened spikes.

When the Betas found me, my abdomen had been pierced by a silver spike. Blood soaked through the faded fabric of my skirt.

Out of respect for my former status as Luna, they probably sent word to Toric.

In my final moments, I finally saw him again. Perhaps out of pity for the dying, or confident I posed no threat, Toric knelt by my bed and confessed the truth.

"It was Silas who died." His voice trembled. "But Evelyn loved him so much... I couldn't bear to see her heartbroken..."

So that was it.

Because the three of them had grown up together since childhood, both brothers had fallen for Evelyn.

Evelyn had ultimately become Silas's mate, a fact Toric had always resented.

This time, while grieving his brother's death, he also saw an unexpected chance to mend that old regret.

How laughable!

Because he couldn't bear his first love becoming a widow, I had to bear the consequence of losing my husband?

What about all the promises he made to me when we formed the mate bond?

Were they just empty words to convince himself to let go and accept her choice?

What shattered me even more was when Toric told me that the child I had birthed hadn't died back then.

Because Evelyn was frail and couldn't bear children, he had taken the baby and given it to her to raise.

"I thought he'd have a better life in a complete family," Toric justified himself, completely missing how my knuckles turned white gripping the sheets.

Tears of regret fell, not for the approaching death, but for having wasted a lifetime on such a man.

I wanted to tear apart his hypocrisy, to curse him with the most venomous words for eternal unrest—but I no longer had the strength to even lift my hand.

As darkness swallowed my consciousness, only one thought remained:

"Such bitter resentment..."

"Luna, the most pressing matter now is to help Alpha settle his final affairs." Toric's voice yanked me back to the present.

"You're right, Silas." I deliberately stressed the name, watching his pupils contract with guilt. "We should let Toric rest in peace."

Since he was so desperate to be Silas, so eager to be with Evelyn, I would grant him his wish. Let him live forever in this lie, forever his brother's shadow.

At the funeral, I cried so hard I nearly fainted.

Pack members, their own eyes red, supported my trembling shoulders, believing my grief was for my 'deceased' mate.

What they didn't know—

My tears were for my past self.

Memories flooded back.

My first meeting with Toric wasn't at the solemn Luna Queen ceremony, but in a coffee shop in the Shadowmoon Pack.

Their sandwiches were famous, but always piled high with cucumber slices, which I hated.

Having forgotten to tell the owner, I ended up with the one bearing the thickest cucumber slices.

I was painstakingly picking them out when I felt eyes on me.

I looked up and met a strikingly handsome face.

His gaze was intense. I turned away, my cheeks flushing.

Later, guided by the Luna Queen, we became mates. Toric's gentle attentiveness made me fall for him quickly, especially his habit of patiently picking the cucumber out of my sandwiches.

But it wasn't until my deathbed in my past life that I learned this habit wasn't formed for me.

I wasn't the only one who hated cucumber.

"Seeing you pick out the cucumbers reminded me of Evelyn," Toric's confession still echoed in my ears. "But after she was with Silas... I never had the chance to do that for her again..."

How utterly laughable.

I had simply become his vessel for fulfilling an old regret.

The ceremonial fire crackled. The burial offerings from the pack members turned to ash in the fierce flames.

My fury burned hotter than the leaping fire. I suddenly turned and rushed inside, returning with an armful of cherished items which I threw into the blaze.

"Luna!" Toric recognized them instantly, his face contorting. He lunged forward to stop me but was driven back by the searing heat.

"Those were Alpha's gifts to you!" His voice was hoarse with urgency. "You treasured them so much!"

It was true.

Every gift had been carefully stored, treated as precious.

Now, they twisted and blackened in the flames, just like the deceived me of my past life.

"Precisely because he gave them, I must burn them!" I cried, tears streaming, my voice trembling perfectly. "Keeping them only brings more pain!"

Toric's fists clenched white. "At least... keep one or two..."

"What use are dead things when the person is gone?" I snapped sharply. "Can they replace the living?"

Packpeople around murmured in agreement: "Silas, let Luna vent her sorrow..."

Toric's lips trembled, and he finally retreated silently to the side. In the firelight, his expression was a spectacle to behold.

Wrong.

I sneered inwardly.

The bitter one isn't me.

It's you, the coward who doesn't dare claim his true identity.