Gracie's POV

My hands trembled as I lifted the glass of cold water to my lips, forcing back the tears threatening to fall. Across the kitchen, Marcus smiled at me as he prepared my favorite meal, acting as if nothing had changed—as if he hadn't shattered me just moments ago of the truth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you for five years, Cie,” he said softly, using the nickname only he ever called me.

He plated the grilled beef, adding spices and a perfectly cooked sunny-side-up egg. “You need to eat more. You’ve lost too much weight.”

I stared at the food, my fingers tightening around the glass. My wolf growled inside me, urging me to lash out, to scream, to demand answers. But I held it all in, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The image of what I had seen earlier burned in my mind. The words they had spoken—betrayal woven into every syllable—didn’t just break my heart. They shattered it. Twice over.

At that moment, I would have rather died than face the truth.

My hands were still shaking as I set the glass down and moved toward the table. My gaze flicked to the knife. A cruel, bitter thought crossed my mind—I could drive it straight into his heart, make him feel the pain he had inflicted on me. Him and Anastasia.

Instead, I grabbed the fork, cutting into the beef with unsteady hands as tears finally escaped, sliding down my cheeks.

Marcus noticed immediately. “Cie, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

He reached for me, his warm hands gripping my shoulders as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Did something happen? What's wrong?”

His touch, his concern—it made me want to scream. He wiped my tears away so gently, and my heart ached. I wanted to believe this was just my imagination. A hallucination born from years of suffering.

But it wasn’t.

I loved Marcus. So much that it hurt.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with pain.

He smiled, tender and soft. “Is that all you wanted to say? I thought something was wrong.” His relief was evident as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then down to the tip of my nose. His lips hovered over mine, about to close the distance—

I stepped back.

The memory of him kissing my brother’s wife made bile rise in my throat.

“I’m just hungry,” I lied, forcing a bite into my mouth, even as my hands continued to tremble. The years in prison had broken me in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge. But the hope that the truth would come out, the thought of Marcus—those had been the only things keeping me alive.

Now, I wished I had died in there instead of learning this truth—that Marcus had never truly loved me.

“Gracie is here. We don’t want her to find out about us,” Marcus had whispered earlier, his hand caressing Anastasia’s face as she nuzzled into him like they were lovers.

I had never seen her like that with my brother. Never that affectionate.

“Yes, it’s best we keep it a secret for now—at least until the case is fully closed,” Anastasia had murmured, voice laced with pain. “I miss Lily. How I wish Gracie didn’t do it, but the truth is painful. I can’t hate her, though. She’s like a sister to me.”

She had spoken of me as if I were already guilty. As if I had done the unthinkable.

“How I wish it too.” Marcus had sighed. “The case has been reopened, and someone’s been digging up new evidence. But there are still discrepancies. If only I could do everything to help you find Lily, Anastasia. I know how much you miss your daughter. But Gracie knows where she disposed of the body.”

“Yes, she does.” Anastasia’s voice had hardened. “And you must find out where. Lily loved and trusted her. If she truly cared, she would confess.”

“I will, Anna. I will.”

The words had cut through me like knives.

Anastasia had never truly believed me. None of them had.

Now, Marcus poured my favorite berry wine, offering it with a smile. “Thank you,” I murmured, forcing myself to act normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, Cie,” he said, slicing the beef for me when he noticed my shaking hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you. The pack—there were so many responsibilities.”

“Why are your hands shaking?” he asked, brows furrowing in concern.

“My life in prison wasn’t easy,” I replied flatly, taking a sip of the wine. “You know, I wanted to end it all so many times. But I kept thinking of you, Marcus. And I held onto the hope that the truth would come out.” I met his gaze, swallowing hard. “I read the only letter you sent me over and over again for five years. It was the only thing that gave me hope.”

Marcus froze, the knife halting mid-cut. His eyes darkened with something unreadable. “What did they do to you?”

I hesitated.

Sometimes, I didn’t want to believe what the other prisoners had told me—that someone had paid them to make my life a living hell. That Marcus Delaver and my own parents had wanted me broken.

I had refused to believe it.

But now, I realized what a fool I had been.

Before I could answer, a furious voice cut through the kitchen.

“Why are you here?”

My father’s voice.

I turned to see him storming in, his face twisted in rage. His glare landed on Marcus, then on the food in front of me.

“And you, Marcus! Why are you giving her that food and wine? Someone like her doesn’t deserve such luxury!”

Gracie's POV

I drained the last drop of wine and set the glass down on the table, my fingers trembling.

"She's still your daughter, Alpha Derick," Marcus said, standing up for me. If I hadn’t seen the truth with my own eyes, I might’ve been foolish enough to believe he actually cared. "She’s thin, she needs to eat. The council admitted there were discrepancies in the evidence. There’s a chance she didn’t abduct or kill Lily."

My father’s rage flared. "Money can make anything look like the truth!" he spat. "No matter how much Gracie tries to hide it, the truth always finds a way out! And it did! I am ashamed to have a daughter who murdered her own blood!"

His glare cut through me like a blade.

"I don’t want to see you when I’m here!" he barked, pointing at the doorway. "Get out of my sight, murderer!"

A lump formed in my throat, but I refused to let the tears fall. I lifted my chin, forcing myself to look him in the eye.

"Alpha—"

I cut Marcus off. "You don’t need to fight my battles, Marcus. I’ll do as he says."

I turned and walked out.

Marcus didn’t follow.

When I entered my room, I froze. My mother sat on the edge of my bed, her posture stiff, her eyes cold.

She stood as soon as I stepped in.

"You shouldn’t be staying in this room," she said flatly. "It doesn’t suit you anymore. A servant will move your things to a new room."

I opened my mouth to respond—to call her Mom—but the memory of her words stopped me. She didn’t want me to call her that anymore.

"Okay," I murmured instead.

She walked to the door but paused before leaving.

"Lily’s birthday is in three days," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "You’ll kneel at her empty grave and tell us where you hid her body. If you confess, maybe we can start to heal from the pain you caused." She took a breath, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. "If Kian were still alive, he would’ve killed you himself. And he would never have forgiven you—just like we never will."

The door shut behind her.

My tears fall as my knees gave out, and I crumpled onto the cold floor. Silent sobs wracked my body as grief and betrayal ripped through me, clawing at my soul.

I had no more family.

No more love.

Nothing.

But my wolf refused to give in. She wanted to fight. She wanted the truth.

I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

The damage was already done.

Soon, I’d lose my sight completely. The trauma of that day—the acid thrown at my face, the way my skull cracked against the stone floor—had left wounds my wolf couldn't heal.

And Marcus… If he had truly been loyal to me, maybe I wouldn't be this broken.

They put me in a small room near the servants’ quarters. I almost laughed. This was how much they despised me. They never saw me as their daughter.

At least it had a bed.

Unlike the freezing prison cell where I had to sleep on the floor, waiting for death. Not even my parents had sent me a blanket during those brutal winters.

The only warmth I ever received came from an unknown person. A thick coat. A heavy blanket.

"A murderer doesn’t deserve comfort," the guards had sneered.

A murderer.

Was I?

There were nights I almost believed it—almost wished it was true, just so the pain could end.

But it wouldn’t.

I barely slept. This new room was just another prison.

What was the point of staying here?

No one wanted me.

I stared at my reflection in the small, cracked mirror. My lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Tomorrow was Lily’s birthday.

I missed her.

That sweet, bubbly little girl.

Who did this to you, Lily?

Who?

The question had haunted me since the day she disappeared. Since the day we saw the pictur of her lifeless, bloodied body—though no one had ever found it who had sent it and then I was accused of it.

Who could do something so cruel to an innocent child?

I needed to get out of that suffocating room.

The whispers of the servants followed me as I walked through the halls. The murderer. The monster.

I kept my head down, my vision blurring as I accidentally knocked over a vase. It shattered against the floor. I bent down, reaching for the pieces when my head spun. My left eye couldn't see clearly anymore. I blinked hard, trying to focus.

"You!"

The furious voice made my blood run cold.

My father.

"How dare you!" he roared. "You murderer!"

Pain shot up my arm as he grabbed me, his grip so tight it felt like he was trying to break me. He shoved me away with disgust.

"I didn’t mean—" My voice faltered.

My stomach dropped.

The shattered vase wasn’t just any vase.

It was Kian’s urn.

My brother’s ashes.

"I—I didn’t—"

The slap came fast and hard.

My ears rang.

"You did it!" my father bellowed. "Just like you did to Lily!"

I touched my cheek, feeling the warmth of my own blood from where his ring had cut me. My fingers were shaking.

I looked at him—at the man who was supposed to love me.

And for the first time, I realized…

I would never be his daughter again.

Gracie's POV

"Never come here again! I told you! Didn’t you understand? You’re the daughter of evil! I have no daughter!"

My father's voice thundered through the room, filled with nothing but hatred. No warmth. No love. Just disgust.

Why was I still here?

What was the point?

Tears welled in my eyes. "I'm sorry… I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Take her away! Back to her room!" my father ordered.

Two guards grabbed me roughly, dragging me away like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t the daughter of the Alpha—like I wasn’t even human.

They tossed me inside my room, and I hit the floor hard. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, numb.

Why did I come here?

The pain inside me was unbearable, suffocating.

Why was I still living? To be branded a murderer for something I didn’t do? To be hated by my own family? Betrayed by the man I once loved?

What did I do to deserve this, Moon Goddess?

My wolf whimpered inside me, feeling my anguish. She wanted me to be strong, to fight for the truth.

But what was left to fight for?

I pushed myself up and looked at my hands—bloody, covered in cuts that wouldn’t heal fast. It would take time.

I was done.

I was never the type to hate anyone. Maybe that was my biggest flaw. Maybe I was a fool for still caring about people who despised me.

I laughed—a hollow, bitter sound that echoed through the small room. It felt like I was going insane.

When Lily’s birthday arrived, I went. The entire pack was there, celebrating her memory like she was still alive. I stood at the back, watching as they placed a framed photo of her on the makeshift stage. She was so young, so beautiful.

I was wearing the dress she had chosen for me—a simple blue one.

Anastasia approached with a pitying smile. "Did Mom ask you to come, Gracie? You really shouldn’t be here…" She acted concerned, but I saw right through her.

Marcus was by her side. He didn’t even bother pretending to care. He wouldn’t look at me. He was ashamed.

My mother appeared out of nowhere, gripping my arm tightly and dragging me forward.

Straight to the empty casket.

"Kneel," she commanded, her voice cold. "And tell us where our Lily is."

Like I wasn’t their daughter. Like I was nothing.

My father stormed toward us, his fury crackling in the air. "Are you out of your mind, My Luna?! You brought her here?"

"It’s best that she’s here," my mother replied. "She needs to repent for what she’s done. She needs to tell us where she hid Lily’s body."

I stared at the casket.

If I died, would they care?

No.

They’d celebrate. They’d say justice had been served because a murderer deserved to die.

"My Luna, Alpha Derick… Please don’t do this," Anastasia pleaded softly, clutching Lily’s favorite doll—the one I picked for her, the one my brother Kian had gifted her.

My breath caught.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

Kian was so happy when I chose that doll. Lily had loved it. She carried it everywhere.

And the next day… Kian was dead.

Killed in a rogue attack while handling border disputes. He was supposed to be Alpha. But that future never came.

The entire Redmoon Pack mourned.

I never even had the chance to grieve.

Because right after Kian was gone… Lily disappeared.

My gaze flickered to Marcus. He was looking at me now, and for the first time in a long time, there was pity in his eyes.

"Anastasia’s right, Alpha Derick," he said carefully.

"You still defend the woman who murdered our only son’s daughter?" my father snapped. "I can’t believe you’re this blind, Alpha Marcus!"

Marcus's jaw tightened. "Is love really that easy to throw away, Alpha Derick? She’s your daughter. And I still care about her."

"Care?" My father let out a bitter laugh. "You care for a murderer?!"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd—wolves from allied and neighboring packs, all whispering about me. About the disgrace of the Redmoon Pack.

"She’s not my daughter anymore!" my father declared, voice full of venom. "After what she’s done, she deserves it! She deserves to die for killing Lily!"

I saw it then.

Marcus’s face flushed—not with anger, but with shame.

Not shame for me.

Shame for himself.

For defending me in front of others.

He wasn’t doing this for me. He was doing it to salvage his own reputation.

He never truly loved me.

Because if you love someone, you stand by them. You believe in them.

I thought Marcus knew me better than my own parents. But he didn’t.

No one did.

Slowly, I stepped forward.

I knelt before the empty casket.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Silence fell.

They were waiting.

Waiting for me to confess.