Seth’s voice sliced through the air like a whip. “How long, Aimee? How long have you known?” he demanded, eyes blazing with fury.

I instinctively stepped back, hands lifted in surrender. “Just an hour ago. I swear, Seth. That’s why I kept you from going into the study.”

His jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck straining. “You shouldn’t have stopped me! I needed to see it for myself. To show them that betraying me comes at a cost.”

“You would’ve exploded!” I shot back, my voice trembling with frustration. “Your father is dying, Seth. Do you really want his final memories of you to be chaos and yelling and broken trust?”

He recoiled like I’d physically struck him, but the fire in his eyes refused to die out. “They shattered the trust first, Aimee. Carolyn and Florence? My own brother?”

I didn’t reply. There was no justification. No comfort I could offer that wouldn’t sound hollow.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. He raked a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. “And you want me to just stand here? To sit on my hands while they play house behind my back?”

“For now?” I said softly. “Yes. Just until we decide how to move forward. You can’t burn everything down while your father’s on his deathbed.”

He stared at me, breathing heavily. The rage in him simmered, but something gentler flickered underneath. After a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod. But the rigid line of his jaw told me the storm inside him hadn’t passed.

Without another word, he brushed past me, his footsteps pounding down the hallway like war drums.

I leaned against the wall, my body sagging with exhaustion. “What the hell do we do now?” I whispered into the silence. But there was no answer—just the oppressive weight of everything falling apart.

---

Later that night, I sat in my father’s study. The room still held echoes of power and command, but he was only a fragile echo of the man he used to be. His eyes, though, still pierced through everything.

“You want to end the bond with Alpha Florence?” he repeated, voice thin but laced with interest.

I nodded, my fingers tightening on the hem of my sleeve. “Yes. He betrayed me. He’s been… with Carolyn.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. It filled the room like fog. My father exhaled slowly, eyes closing. When he opened them, the rage I expected was nowhere to be found.

“Aimee,” he said, his tone deliberate, “if Florence has broken your trust, leave him. But don’t let bitterness become the cornerstone of your future. Let them be together, if that’s what they’ve chosen.”

His words felt like a slap. “Are you… siding with them?”

“I’m not siding with anyone,” he answered calmly. “I’m asking you to choose peace over vengeance. This family’s seen more than its fair share of destruction.”

I bit my tongue, holding back the tears. “Fine,” I said, standing abruptly. “Thanks for the advice.”

---

I didn’t make it far before running into Florence. He was leaning casually in the hallway, as if nothing in the world had changed.

“There you are,” he said, like he’d been looking for me. “Start planning Carolyn’s birthday. She’ll want everything flawless.”

I stared at him, stunned. Not a single word about my birthday—just two weeks ago. No gesture. Not even a half-hearted greeting. But here he was, already fussing over Carolyn’s celebration.

“Alright,” I murmured, forcing my face into neutrality.

He nodded and walked away without a backward glance. I watched his retreating figure, my throat tightening with unsaid words.

When he was gone, I pulled the small stick from my pocket. Two pink lines. Clear. Unforgiving.

I was pregnant. With Florence’s child. And I couldn’t let him find out—not like this.

I had to leave. Leave him. Leave all of them.

---

That night, I was trying to lose myself in sleep when the door creaked open. Carolyn waltzed in like she owned the place. My breath caught.

She was wearing my dress.

“What the hell, Carolyn?” I snapped, sitting upright.

She spun slowly in front of the mirror, a sly smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t I look amazing? Just thought I’d borrow it.”

“That dress belonged to Mom,” I said through clenched teeth. “She gave it to me.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re sisters. We share.”

“No,” I hissed, standing up. “We do not share everything. Take. It. Off.”

Carolyn folded her arms, defiance radiating from her posture. “You’re being dramatic.”

My patience snapped. “If you won’t take it off, I will.”

When she didn’t move, I reached forward and tugged. Hard. The fabric tore down the side with a loud rip.

Carolyn gasped, stumbling backward. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she screeched.

Before I could respond, the door slammed open, and Florence barged in. His eyes darted between the scene: Carolyn clutching the torn dress to her chest and me standing there, breathless with fury.

Her expression morphed in a heartbeat. She looked up at Florence, her lip trembling. “She attacked me,” she whispered. “I just wanted to borrow the dress, and she—”

“You liar!” I shouted. “You’re twisting everything!”

But Florence’s glare was already locked on me, his voice ice-cold. “Have you completely lost your mind, Aimee?”

Florence loomed above me, his tone cutting like steel. “You’ve got to stop treating Carolyn like she’s some sort of exile, Aimee. She’s your sister.”

My eyes widened. The nerve. My sister? The same girl who had slithered her way into every part of my life, dismantling everything that once brought me joy. And now he expected me to be gentle with her?

A dry, humorless laugh escaped me. “I’m the one isolating her?” I asked, my voice trembling, barely keeping the storm inside at bay. “Are you actually listening to yourself, Florence? I’m the one who’s constantly being pushed aside. Every time there’s trouble, you don’t even glance in my direction. You go running to her.”

His shoulders tensed, jaw clenched. But I wasn’t finished—not even close.

“You always leave me behind,” I continued, louder now, each word a blow. “You guard her like she’s yours to protect. Like she’s more than family to you. So tell me, Florence—what is she to you?”

Florence’s eyes flicked toward Carolyn, who stood quietly by the doorway, wearing the tattered remnants of our mother’s dress like it was her own. His momentary pause was more telling than any confession. For one breathless second, I thought he might finally come clean.

But he didn’t.

He turned back, face set in stone. “She’s like a sister to me. That’s all. I don’t know what kind of insane fantasy you’ve let take over, but you sound paranoid. Delusional, even.”

My heart twisted. He was lying. I knew it. I felt it deep in my chest, like a pulse that wouldn't go away. And before I could answer, Carolyn stepped closer, her voice laced with false concern.

“You’re reading too much into things, Aimee,” she said sweetly. “Florence and I are just… close. Nothing more.”

Their deception came so effortlessly, so smoothly, it made me sick. How could they lie like that? How could they pretend nothing had happened—when everything had?

Blinking back tears, I turned to Carolyn and forced a smile that tasted like ashes. “Well, since you’ve got the dress now… happy early birthday.”

The slight flinch in her eyes was satisfying, but I didn’t wait to see her react. I walked past them, chin high, each step fueled by fury and heartbreak.

The cold air outside struck my face as I stepped into the garden. I sucked in a breath, trying to still the chaos in my chest. The night was still, broken only by the wind rustling the leaves. In that moment, I imagined disappearing—leaving all of this betrayal behind me.

“Aimee?”

I turned to find Seth approaching, his expression calmer than I’d seen in ages. The fire from earlier had cooled, replaced by something quieter. Concern.

“You alright?” he asked, stopping just short of me.

I shook my head slowly. “No. Not even close.”

He moved closer, one hand gently resting on my shoulder. “What happened?”

I looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time in days, something inside me eased. Seth, in his own flawed way, had always looked out for me. Maybe he was the only one who ever truly had.

“I need your help,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His brow furrowed. “With what?”

I took a breath that shook on the way out. “I need you to pretend you’re the father of my baby.”

He froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, stronger now. “I can’t let Florence find out. If he knows, he’ll use the baby against me. I can’t let that happen.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “Aimee… that’s a huge ask. Do you realize what people will assume?”

“Let them,” I snapped. “Let them whisper. Let them believe whatever they want. We both know the truth—and we both know who the real liars are.”

He stopped and turned toward me, something softening in his eyes. He looked like he was still weighing it all, but there was a flicker of understanding behind the conflict.

“You’re really serious,” he murmured.

“I am,” I said, voice cracking. “I have to protect this child. Please, Seth.”

There was a long pause as he studied me. Then, finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it. But we need to figure out the details. Carefully.”

Relief hit me so hard it made me sway. I gave him a faint, trembling smile. “Thank you.”

That night, I returned to my room, mind buzzing with the plan we’d pieced together. It was messy, fragile, but it was a beginning.

But the moment I pushed the door open, my breath caught in my throat.

Florence sat on the edge of the bed, his back slightly hunched. In his hand was the thing I’d prayed he wouldn’t find. The pregnancy test.

He looked up slowly, his gaze unreadable, sharp.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low. “Is it mine?”

The air grew thick, suffocating, as my pulse raced in my ears. This was it—the point of no return.

I stood tall, locked eyes with him. “Yes. I’m pregnant.”

His expression barely changed, but I caught the flicker in his eyes. I didn’t let him speak.

“But it’s not yours,” I added firmly.

The silence that followed felt like an explosion in slow motion.

“It’s Seth’s,” I lied, each syllable stabbing me from the inside.

Florence’s mask cracked. His eyes darkened with shock, confusion, something raw.

And in that moment, for the first time, I had control. For the first time, he didn’t know what to say.

And it felt like power.

I stood by the kitchen sink, my hands submerged in warm, soapy water as I scrubbed at a stubborn plate. The sound of glass clinking and light chatter filled the air as the maids hurried around, adding finishing touches to the lavish birthday celebration. Carolyn’s special day. Florence had spared no expense—gleaming crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed tablecloths, and a cake so large, it could easily serve a small town.

He treated her like royalty, like she was the one meant to rule this territory. Me? I was nothing more than a shadow in the background, a mere servant to them both.

But I refused to let it get to me. Not when Seth and I were working on something much bigger. Every insult, every slight would be paid back in time.

"Still at it, Aimee?" Carolyn’s voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking.

I turned to see her leaning casually against the doorway, her red silk dress clinging to her curves. She looked every bit the part of the pampered princess, a smug smirk on her face that made my skin crawl.

"Such a good sister," she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Helping with my party. Truly selfless."

I ignored her, dunking another dish into the water. She thrived on trying to get under my skin.

But then she took it too far. "I can’t say I blame Florence for treating me better than you," she sneered, lowering her voice. "I mean, look at you—plain, pathetic, and desperate."

My hands stiffened around the sponge. Anger surged up, but I shoved it back down. I spun around, locking eyes with her.

"At least I’m not a spoiled brat who needs constant attention to feel important," I shot back, my tone icy but cutting.

Her smirk faltered briefly, but she quickly regained composure. Before she could fire back, Florence appeared, his towering figure placing itself between us like a wall.

"Aimee," he said, his voice cold and commanding. "Don’t start something."

My blood boiled, but I forced a tight smile. "Maybe you should keep your dog on a leash," I retorted, sweet as venom. "She’s the one barking."

Florence’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say another word. Carolyn huffed in annoyance and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. I grabbed a towel, wiped my hands, and barely spared Florence a glance as I headed upstairs.

At the far end of the hallway, Seth stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the crowd below. Carolyn and Florence were easy to spot, their laughter and flirtation cutting through the air even from here.

Seth’s posture was tense, fists clenched at his sides.

"Still watching them?" I asked quietly as I approached.

He turned, his face dark. "It’s hard not to."

I nodded in understanding. "Come on," I said, motioning toward my room. "Let’s talk."

Inside, I closed the door behind us and leaned against it. Seth began pacing the small room, his frustration palpable.

"I want to expose them," I said, my voice firm and unwavering.

Seth stopped, his brows furrowing. "Now?"

I hesitated, the weight of our father’s deteriorating health pressing down on me. "No," I confessed, sighing. "It’s not the right time. Not with your father in such bad shape. We can’t risk adding to his stress."

Seth’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "You’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch them flaunt it like this."

His voice was bitter, and when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, my heart sank.

"I was going to propose to her tonight," he said, opening the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. "For her birthday."

The words hit me like a punch in the stomach. Seth’s heartbreak was raw, and suddenly, my own pain seemed small in comparison.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly, stepping closer to him. "But maybe this is a sign she wasn’t the one for you. You deserve someone better, Seth. Someone who won’t betray you."

He gave me a sad smile. "You’re kind, Aimee. Even when you’re in pain, you think of others."

His eyes lingered on me, and suddenly, the air between us shifted. A subtle but undeniable tension crackled in the space, and my pulse quickened.

"Seth…" I began, unsure of what I was feeling.

But before I could finish, there was a sharp knock at the door.

We both froze, and when the door opened, Florence stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable and dark.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The room fell silent, and my heart raced as I met Florence’s gaze, his eyes darting between Seth and me. I knew that look—he wasn’t just suspicious; he was furious.

And I couldn’t help but enjoy the jealousy I saw in his eyes.