My teeth ground together so tightly my jaw throbbed, but I forced myself to speak clearly. “You keep waving around this so-called surveillance footage. Then let me see it. I won’t stand here while you stain my daughter’s name with lies.”

Matteo did not argue. He unlocked his phone in a few swift motions and thrust it toward me, the device nearly striking my chest as if he were presenting proof before a council of Elders.

The screen displayed security footage from inside the Strongclaw estate. A small figure entered the frame—a child wearing a dress identical to the one Elodie had worn that afternoon. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed her face, obscuring her features. Her steps looked slightly uneven as she slipped into Valeria’s bedroom.

The girl approached the vanity, pulled a small bottle from her bag, and emptied its contents into a jar of skincare cream. The recording ended abruptly there, cutting to black.

My gaze dropped to the timestamp.

Two days ago.

By that hour, my daughter’s body had already been reduced to ash beneath the sacred pyre.

A hollow sound escaped my throat, something between a laugh and a sob, while tears slid freely down my cheeks.

Valeria moved closer with deliberate grace, her voice trembling as though she were the injured party. “Serena, I’m not accusing anyone,” she said softly. “I only want to understand why Elodie would do this. She’s still young. It’s our responsibility to guide her before she grows up believing this kind of behavior is acceptable.”

Her performance made my blood burn.

I rose abruptly and spat directly onto the red, irritated skin of her cheek. “Stop pretending you care about my daughter,” I said, my voice icy. “You don’t even know who that child in the video truly is, yet you’ve already decided it must be her. Or are you so eager to take the Luna’s place that you’re willing to frame a five-year-old to get it?”

The last thread of Matteo’s restraint snapped.

Before I could brace myself, his boot drove hard into my abdomen. The impact stole the air from my lungs. My fingers loosened instinctively.

The urn slipped.

It struck the concrete floor with a dull crack. The lid flew off and rolled away. The container tipped over, and a pale gray cloud spilled outward, scattering across the rough ground beneath the stark hallway lights.

For a heartbeat, everything inside me went still.

All I could see was that fragile dust spread across the floor.

Then my scream ripped through the narrow corridor.

Ignoring the sharp agony twisting in my stomach, I fell to my knees and threw myself over the ashes as though I could shield them with my own body.

Matteo lifted his chin slightly and gave a subtle signal. Two pack enforcers stepped forward immediately, each seizing one of my arms and dragging me upright despite my frantic resistance.

My eyes never left the floor. My lips moved, but no sound emerged.

Matteo crouched in front of me, his voice lowering into a dangerous murmur. “Where is Elodie? I’m asking you one final time.”

I could not answer. My mind felt hollowed out.

He rose slowly, nodding to himself as though confirming his own suspicions. “So you choose silence. You think disfiguring someone is amusing?”

One of the enforcers handed him a bottle of medical alcohol.

He twisted off the cap and poured the liquid directly onto the ashes scattered across the concrete. The clear fluid soaked into the gray powder, turning it into a dark, sludgy paste.

Without hesitation, he crouched again, scooped up a handful of the mixture, and smeared it across my face.

The cold shock made my entire body shudder, but he only pressed harder, grinding the paste into my skin as though determined to make me feel every grain.

“Since you enjoy these tricks,” he said mockingly, “let me return the favor. How does it feel? Answer me. Can you hear me speaking to you?”

The alcohol seeped into the split skin his earlier slap had left behind. A fierce burning sensation tore through my face, contorting my features as I cried out in pain. My voice echoed down the aging hallway.

He showed no sign of hesitation.

“You want a separation?” he said coldly. “Fine. I’ll grant it. But forget about ever seeing Elodie again.”

He wiped his hands carelessly on one of the enforcers’ suits as though cleaning off dirt, then pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.

“Contact the authorities and find out where Serena is hiding Elodie,” he ordered. “Tell the lawyer to draft the separation papers immediately. I’m claiming full custody of my daughter.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before a hesitant voice responded.

“Alpha Strongclaw… Elodie has already passed. She was cremated. The accident occurred the night you attended the banquet with Ms. Castillo. She was struck by a motorcycle.”

The voice faltered, then continued more quietly. “We tried to reach you but couldn’t. On Luna Serena’s instructions, I arranged a burial plot. Today is the scheduled interment.”

The hallway fell silent.

The stillness pressed in on us, thick and suffocating, like the ashes still clinging to my skin.