Hailey's smirk was venomous as she held up the disgusting gift. "Evelyn, maybe if you wore my clothes, Brandon would love you a little more."

Her words dripped with mockery. "I almost feel sorry for you. In the Hartley pack, you're my stand-in. To Brandon, you're not even that. If I were you, I'd have bolted ages ago. You know, Brandon's got endless energy when he's with me, but-"

I couldn't take it anymore. My hand shot out, knocking the box from her grip, the contents spilling across the rooftop. "Enough!" I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. "Know your place, Hailey. I'm still Brandon's mate. Push me again, and I'll march downstairs and show everyone what you've been doing with my mate behind my back."

Before she could respond, Hailey crumpled to the ground, fake tears streaming down her face. "Evelyn, I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "I'll stay away from Brandon, I swear. If you hate me this much, I'll book a ticket and leave the pack tonight. I won't be in your way anymore."

Right on cue, Brandon stormed over, scooping Hailey into his arms like she was made of glass. Franklin charged in behind him, not even bothering to ask what happened before his hand cracked across my face. "Evelyn!" he roared. "Hailey's the true Hartley she-wolf. Know your place! If you ever hurt her again, don't expect me to care about our so-called family bond!"

The slap left my ears ringing, my cheek burning. I turned to him, lips trembling but voice steady. "She started it. She-"

Brandon cut me off, his brows furrowed. "Enough. We all know Hailey. She'd never start trouble. You must've done something to her."

He stepped closer, his voice cold. "I know you're upset I didn't claim you tonight, but we agreed to keep our bond secret. What's with the drama now? Evelyn, I'm disappointed in you."

He didn't stop there. "You're not coming home tonight. Stay here and think about what you've done." With that, he carried Hailey off the rooftop, leaving me behind.

I clutched my chest, fighting back tears, desperate to explain. I rushed to the door, but Brandon kicked it shut. The heavy wood slammed into my hand, and pain exploded through me. I collapsed, my hand bleeding, my body shaking. The agony was so intense I couldn't even scream.

Blood pooled on the floor, my hand torn open. I leaned against the wall, tears breaking free as I whispered, "Brandon, we're done. For good."

The servants found me and rushed me to the hospital, my hand a mess. The healer wanted to give me something to numb the pain, but I refused. I needed to feel it, to burn this lesson into my bones.

It took over a dozen stitches to close the wound. The healer warned me to take it easy or it'd scar. My hand was infected, so they kept me overnight.

My phone buzzed. It was Miles.

"Happy birthday, Evelyn," he said, his voice warm and steady.

My throat tightened, and my voice came out hoarse. "Thanks. You're the only one who's said that to me today."

He paused, picking up on the tremor in my voice. "You don't sound okay. You crying? Someone hurt you? Who?"

His concern wrapped around me like a warm blanket-the only kindness I'd felt all night. I forced a smile, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm fine. Just got caught up in a sappy TV show."

Miles went quiet for a moment, clearly not buying it, but he didn't push. "Alright. But lay off the late-night TV-it's bad for your eyes. I've got a birthday gift for you. I'll bring it when I come get you in a week."

Then, softer, he added, "If someone's messing with you, don't just take it. Tell me, and I'll handle it."

Brandon used to say things like that, back when I thought he cared. Now, he didn't even remember.

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Miles. It's late-you should get some rest."

After we hung up, I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, the pain in my hand fading for the first time all night.

The next morning, I woke with one goal in mind: get those papers drawn up to break my bond with Brandon. I called a lawyer and got to work.

I walked into the office, clutching two sets of papers, my bandaged hand throbbing under the layers of gauze. Brandon noticed right away, his brows knitting together. "What's wrong with your hand?"

When I didn't answer immediately, he jumped to conclusions. "You hurt yourself? Just because I called you out last night, you're pulling some self-harm stunt to get back at me?"

I almost laughed. He didn't even know his own door-slamming tantrum had mangled my hand. Typical. Whenever Hailey was around, I might as well have been invisible.

"It's nothing," I said flatly. "Just a scratch."

He wasn't buying it. The gash was too ugly to be "just a scratch." But before he could dig deeper, I shoved the papers at him. "Brandon, I need you to sign these. Now."

His frown deepened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He reached for the documents, but then his phone buzzed-Hailey, of course. After a few words, he grabbed his jacket. "I've got somewhere to be. We'll deal with the contracts later."

"No," I said, my voice firm as I pressed a pen into his hand. "These are urgent. Sign them now."

Hailey's call came through again, and I could feel my patience fraying. I flipped the papers to the last page and set them in front of him. "Sign, and you're free to go."

He shot me a look, clearly annoyed that I was "making a fuss." With a huff, he scribbled his name on both documents. "Happy now?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. We're good."

He turned and left, pausing at the door to toss out one last order. "Hailey's coming over for dinner tonight. You know she's picky, so make a few of her favorite dishes. I already talked to her about last night-she's willing to let it go, so don't hold a grudge. You're the older sister here. Cook her something nice as an apology."

And just like that, he was gone.

I stared down at my bandaged hand, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. Even with my hand torn up, he still expected me to bend over backward for Hailey.

That evening, Brandon showed up with Hailey in tow. The second they walked in, Brandon's nose wrinkled. "What's that smell?" He bolted to the back garden, where I was standing over a small fire, watching flames lick at the gifts he'd given me over the years.

Those trinkets used to mean everything to me. Once, when a servant accidentally ruined one, I'd lost it. Now, here I was, burning them to ash.

Brandon's face twisted with anger. He kicked the fire pit, scattering embers. "What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't flinch. "Spring cleaning. No room for this stuff anymore. Didn't you tell me this afternoon that Hailey's moving in? I needed to clear out a room."

His jaw tightened, but my excuse was airtight. He couldn't argue. Still, I could tell it bugged him.

Hailey clung to his arm, her voice syrupy. "Brandon, I do have a lot of stuff, but it's just old clothes. No big deal if they're gone."

He sighed, his expression softening. "Whatever. It's not like they were important anyway."

As he walked off, I stared at the smoldering remains of those memories, a faint smirk on my face. Not important. Right. Just like me.

In the dining room, Brandon's mood soured again when he saw the empty table. "I told you Hailey was coming for dinner. Why isn't there any food?"

I held up my bandaged hand, my voice flat. "Can't cook."

For a split second, guilt flashed across his face. He'd forgotten about my injury. But Hailey wasn't about to let him dwell on it. She tugged at his arm. "Brandon, since Evelyn didn't cook, let's just go out to eat."

I didn't want to watch them play their little lovebird act anymore. I turned and headed upstairs.

After a shower, my phone rang. It was Miles. He was talking about planning our binding ceremony, asking what kind I'd like. five years with Brandon, always hidden, never acknowledged-I'd never dared to dream of a real ceremony. I thought I didn't deserve one. But Miles? He made it feel so easy, like I was worth it.

I thought for a moment. "The beach," I said. "I'd love a ceremony by the sea."

Just then, the door swung open. Brandon stood there, eyes narrowed. "What ceremony?"