Galilea's POV:

I didn't sleep. The night stretched long and cold, filled with the frantic beating of my own heart. By dawn, the panic had receded, leaving a chilling clarity.

I paced, bare feet silent on the polished floorboards, scanning every detail. Then I saw it. In the corner near the floor: an old ventilation grate, brass tarnished with age.

I knelt and examined it. Rusted screws, frame slightly loose. I pulled a pin from my hair and worked at the edge, prying and scraping. Minutes later it came free with a soft groan.

Cool, musty air wafted out. The shaft was dark, but I could hear muffled voices below. I pressed my ear to the opening.

It was Eleanor and Rosalie.

"But Mother," Rosalie's voice was thick with false sympathy, "isn't it too cruel? Sending her to that beast?"

"It's necessary," Eleanor replied, voice hard. "This secures your path to the Prince. With Galilea married off to a brute like Barnes, no one will question your suitability. The Thornes will have a powerful—if unstable—alliance."

"But what if she finds out?" Rosalie whispered. "About where she really came from?"

My breath caught. I pressed my ear harder against the cold metal.

Eleanor let out a short, sharp laugh, entirely without warmth. "Find out what? That she's not the daughter of some distant cousin? That we found her swaddled in rags in a blizzard—the only survivor of a rogue camp destroyed in a pack war?"

The world tilted. My blood ran cold.

A foundling. An abandoned baby. Not family. Not even a distant relation. Just a stray they'd picked from the mud.

"She is nothing, Rosalie. A wolfless nobody. We gave her a name, a roof, twenty years of a life she never would have had. It's time she repays that debt."

The last thread of feeling I held for this house snapped. Those twenty years weren't kindness. They were an investment. And now they were cashing in.

I heard them mention a dowry—a small sum, just for appearances. Then footsteps fading.

Slowly, carefully, I fit the grate back into place. My hands were steady, but everything I'd believed lay in rubble. I stood, face pale in the morning light. The girl who'd loved this family, who'd craved their approval—she was gone. Someone colder stood in her place.

I walked to the door and began to knock. Not frantically. Steady, rhythmic thuds.

After a minute, the lock turned. A guard cracked the door open. "What do you want?"

"I want to see Eleanor and Harold," I said, voice even. "Now."

He scoffed. "You're in no position to make demands." He started to close the door.

"Tell them," I said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. He paused. "Or when I become Luna of the Black Moon Pack, the very first order I give will be for your head."

His eyes widened. He saw something in my face that hadn't been there yesterday. He hesitated, then nodded and left.

Minutes later, I was escorted to the study. Eleanor, Harold, and Rosalie were all there, faces caught between annoyance and curiosity.

I was shoved into the center of the room. I didn't look at the guards. I looked at the three people who'd crafted my life from lies. A strange, serene smile touched my lips.

"You wanted to see us?" Harold demanded, impatient. "To beg? It won't work."

"No," I said softly. "Not to beg."

I took a breath and then, in that same calm tone, I repeated their conversation. Word for word. The beast. Securing Rosalie's path. The blizzard, the rogue camp, the wolfless nobody picked from the mud.

With every word, the color drained from Eleanor's and Rosalie's faces. They stared, mouths agape, eyes wide with undiluted horror. Harold looked from me to his wife, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning, furious understanding.

When I finished, the silence was absolute.

I let it hang, savoring their shock.

"So," I said, smile widening. "Now we can discuss my dowry. Not what you'll give me. What I'll take."

Galilea's POV:

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Harold broke it first. He rounded on his wife, face purple. "You told me she was my cousin's child! You lied to me for twenty years?"

Eleanor flinched, unable to meet his gaze. Her silence was confession enough.

Then his fury pivoted to me. "And you! After everything we've given you, you dare stand there and threaten us?"

A laugh escaped my lips, cold and humorless. "Given me? You gave me a borrowed name and a life of servitude. You raised me as a tool. Don't speak to me of gratitude."

I met his furious gaze without flinching. "I will marry Enzo Barnes. But not for the Thorne family. For myself."

I paused, letting the weight settle. "My price is ten million gold coins."

Eleanor gasped. Rosalie looked ready to faint.

"You're insane!" Harold's fist slammed down on his mahogany desk. "That's half our liquid assets!"

"It's the price of your silence," I countered. "The price of Rosalie's future. If you refuse, my first act as the future Luna Barnes will be to request a private audience with the Alpha King's mother. I will tell her everything. How the noble Thorne family picked up a wolfless stray and passed her off in a political marriage. How you deceived your Alpha. How you risked a strategic alliance on a girl with no name and no bloodline."

I let my gaze drift to Rosalie, now openly weeping. "I wonder how the royal family will feel about that. Do you think the Alpha Prince will still be so eager to court the daughter of such a deceitful house?"

Every word was a dart, striking at the heart of their ambition.

Harold stared at me, chest heaving. A businessman. A pragmatist. I could see the calculations behind his eyes—weighing the cost of the money against total social ruin.

In his mind, I was already dead. He was sending me to a monster who'd kill me within weeks, if not days. Once I was gone, the money—along with whatever compensation the royal family might offer for my tragic death—would be his to reclaim. Not a loss. A temporary investment.

I saw the shift in his eyes. Fury replaced by dark, predatory cunning. He thought he could outsmart me.

He straightened his jacket, expression morphing into one of grave sorrow. "Very well, Galilea. If that's what you feel you are owed, the family will provide it. Consider it a final parting gift."

He was lying. I saw the greed and contempt. But I didn't care. His motives were irrelevant.

"I want it deposited in a sealed trust with the Ironhold Vaults in the neutral territories," I said, retrieving a small, engraved token from my pocket. "Before the wedding. My associates will handle the collection."

The days that followed blurred—silent meals, locked doors. But on the morning of the wedding, as I sat alone in my room for the last time, a familiar static whisper brushed against my mind. Shadow. The Ironhold Vaults confirm receipt. Ten million gold coins, sealed under your token. It is done. I closed my eyes, letting the quiet satisfaction settle over me. The money was secure. My first war chest was armed.

The wedding itself was pathetic. A simple, cheap dress they'd provided. No ceremony. No guests. I was handed over to the Black Moon Pack like cargo.

Not a single member of the Thorne family came to see me off.

As the black car pulled away, I looked back at the grand house that had been my prison for two decades. Nothing. No sadness, no nostalgia. Just the cold, clean feeling of a debt settling.

In the study I'd just left, they were celebrating. Harold and Eleanor, toasting their cleverness. Rosalie, dreaming of becoming a princess. All certain they'd won.

I settled back into the leather seat, watching the city give way to wilderness. I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind—not to the Thornes, but to my true family.

Phoenix Knight. The funds are secure. Initiate Web Weaving protocol. Start in the capital.

Grim satisfaction settled over me. I was driving toward a monster's lair, into a future of violence and uncertainty. But for the first time in my life, I was not a victim.

I was a player. And I'd just funded my first move on the board.