At the pack’s charity auction, Beckham George, the Alpha heir of the George Pack, bid fifty million dollars on a gemstone necklace symbolizing eternal love. The room buzzed with anticipation as he held up the necklace, his Alpha aura commanding attention. He turned to me, his voice steady yet tinged with arrogance, and proposed. The crowd erupted in applause, their admiration for him evident. They all seemed certain I would accept. After all, I had pursued him relentlessly since I was welcomed back into the Mason Pack, and our four years in college were marked by my unwavering devotion.

But they all seemed to forget.

Back then, when I was suffering from a rare heart condition and needed urgent surgery, Beckham accused me of faking my illness after Ruby Simmons, the rising influencer from the Simmons Pack, planted doubts in his mind. He cut off all my access to pack resources, publicly denounced me, and left me to face the brutal backlash alone. My biological parents, the Alpha and Luna of the Mason Pack, turned their backs on me, and my friends distanced themselves. Without the support of my pack, I was expelled from the hospital.

Disheartened, I left the Mason Pack and returned to my adoptive parents, Holland and Mr. Ortiz, the Alpha and Luna of the Ortiz Pack. Once my health improved and I was able to rejoin society, both packs and mutual friends urged me:

"In all these years, Beckham has ignored countless eligible mates. His heart is only set on you, Kiana. He’s been waiting for you to come back so he can mark you as his mate."

"All of that is in the past. He’s overlooked your mistakes. What more could you ask for?"

==============================

Just as I entered the auction hall, my biological mother, Luna Laylani Mason, pulled me aside. Her sharp eyes bore into me, and her tone was cold. "Kiana, have you even considered the pack?"

"You left home over something so trivial, disappearing for four years. What kind of daughter does that?"

I kept my head down, adjusting the hem of my Victorian-style dress, ignoring her remarks. I had already endured the consequences of desperately seeking acceptance from my biological pack. She continued her tirade, and as I remained silent, she grabbed my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin.

"Did you hear me? For four years, Beckham has been searching everywhere for you, ignoring even the most accomplished mates."

"After you left, he went public to defend you, pleading with the packs not to target you. Such a proud Alpha heir stooping low for you—how could you abandon him for your own freedom?"

Her voice escalated, drawing the attention of those around us. The whispers began, speculating about my jealousy of Ruby Simmons, my petty reasons for leaving, and my intentional disappearance. My scandal with Beckham accusing me of faking medical records was well-known; today, they scorned me just like four years ago.

But I no longer cared.

I pulled my arm away, revealing the red marks where she’d gripped me. "That’s just his perspective. I’ve long forgotten the past."

The room fell silent, the pack members staring at me in shock. I could imagine why they were surprised. After all, during my four years in college, everyone knew Kiana Mason, the Alpha’s daughter of the Mason Pack, was devoted to Beckham George.

The two universities were two hours apart, yet I made the trek every day to have meals with him. When he trained with the pack warriors, I carried water and supplies, serving as his aide until I was exhausted. Traveling with him to inter-pack competitions, I skipped classes, prepared his meals, and was there whenever he needed me. One time, hearing he was injured during a sparring session, I rushed to see him, only to crash my car, resulting in a fractured leg that left me bedridden for half a month.

Finally, one day, Beckham was moved by my persistence and accepted my confession on graduation day. Once we were together, he was the one making compromises, balancing the expectations of both our packs. They’d arranged for our mate marking ceremony once the mourning period for Beckham’s grandfather ended. I eagerly anticipated the next fall, the season of our impending happiness.

But what awaited me first was Ruby Simmons, sent abroad by her parents during her sophomore year, returning home after gaining fame as an influencer.

Our first encounter was during a pack gathering.

She was wrapped in luxurious fur, her camera aimed at me, adopting a timid expression: "Sister, are you upset that I took your parents away..."

Beckham wrapped my knitted scarf around her neck, his disapproving gaze sweeping over me: "Kiana, it wasn’t Ruby’s fault the mix-up happened years ago; you shouldn’t blame her."

I didn’t understand how I became the one at fault when I hadn’t said a word. But from that day on, Beckham—who once spent every waking moment with me—became Ruby Simmons’s shadow.

She talked about creating a homecoming video; he accompanied her to visit every pack elder. She claimed her fans adored their interactions; he happily appeared in her livestreams. Their seamless camaraderie frequently trended online, yet no one clarified they weren’t mates.

When I finally approached Beckham with Ruby’s videos after a week, he was busy planning a surprise for her birthday. Seeing my displeasure, he pushed me away impatiently.

"Kiana, I’ve always seen Ruby as a little sister. What’s there to be envious of?"

"She’s an influencer. We need to prepare for her birthday properly to boost her image; you’re only holding me up here."

"You... how could you step on Ruby’s poster!"

He abruptly snatched away the poster I accidentally stepped on. I staggered back, and as he gently smoothed the creases on the poster, I collapsed heavily to the ground.

My head collided with the edge of the desk, the impact sending a sharp pain through my skull and landing me in the hospital. Beckham George, future Alpha of the George Pack, was overwhelmed with guilt, repeatedly apologizing in front of both sets of parents.

“Kiana, I’m truly sorry,” he said, his deep voice heavy with regret. “I acted impulsively. As your mate, I should’ve handled this better.”

I lay in the hospital bed, my vision swimming, unable to speak. My parents, Alpha and Luna of the Mason Pack, glanced at me briefly before siding with him.

“Beckham is right,” my mother, Luna Laylani, said coolly. “Ruby is practically his sister. You’re overreacting.”

“If you hadn’t stepped on Ruby’s poster,” my father, Alpha Mason, added, “Beckham wouldn’t have pushed you in the chaos.”

The words cut deeper than the pain in my head. My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of protest, but I was too weak to respond. The matter was settled just like that—another instance of the pack’s hierarchy silencing my voice.

After my parents left, Beckham took my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Kiana,” he said, his tone softer now, “Ruby is like a sister to me, nothing more. You’re my mate. You’re the one I care about.”

His sincerity made me doubt myself. Was I being too sensitive? Was I imagining the tension between him and Ruby?

The hospital door swung open suddenly, and Ruby Simmons strode in, her camera already pointed at me. “Kiana!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with concern. “I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?”

Her presence made my skin crawl. Ruby was the biological daughter of the Simmons Pack Alpha, and her rise to influence within the werewolf community had been meteoric. Her inner wolf was cunning, and I could feel her calculating every move.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby continued, tears welling in her eyes. “If I hadn’t insisted on celebrating my birthday at the pack house, this wouldn’t have happened.”

I hated the way she always filmed everything, especially now, when I looked like a mess. Beckham noticed my discomfort and gestured for her to lower the camera.

“Ruby,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind, “Kiana’s had a rough day. Maybe give her some space.”

Ruby’s tears spilled over, and she sniffled dramatically. “I’m sorry, Kiana. I didn’t realize you disliked me so much. I’ll leave now.”

She spun on her heel and rushed out, Beckham calling after her before quickly following. The room fell silent, and I was alone again.

A nurse entered a moment later. Octavia Reyes, the pack’s healer, looked at me with a puzzled expression as she wiped away my tears. “Weren’t there a lot of people here just now? Why are you alone?”

I didn’t answer. I pulled the blanket over my head and cried until my chest ached.

That Thanksgiving, I spent it in the hospital while the Simmons and Georges attended the city’s largest pack gala, celebrating Ruby’s birthday. Her livestreams showed a day filled with influencers, celebrities, and the elite of the werewolf world. She received countless gifts and well-wishes, her fans even renting billboards to broadcast birthday greetings across the city.

All I got was a message from my adoptive parents, Alpha and Luna Ortiz, who were overseas.

“Kiana, you must be having a wonderful time today, right? If you get a chance, send us a video.”

But faced with the solitude of the hospital room, all I could muster was a weak “Thank you, Alpha, Luna.”

A few days later, I was discharged from the hospital, only to learn from the pack housekeeper that everyone had left for a world tour with Ruby.

Stunned, I texted my biological parents, who took half a day to respond.

“We forgot to mention,” my mother wrote. “Ruby wanted a world tour, so we’re accompanying her.”

I called Beckham, who apologized for not telling me sooner.

“Kiana, we’ll be traveling for about six months,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back lots of gifts.”

“Just hang in there and wait for me.”

His words did little to ease my disappointment. The disdain from the high-ranking pack members only deepened. Once, they’d pretended to be friendly because I was the Alpha’s daughter, but now they openly favored Ruby, their cruelty unrestrained.

They accused me of jealousy, of being a thief, and even of faking my illness for attention. The housekeepers, sensing my parents’ indifference, took a six-month vacation, leaving me to fend for myself.

At first, I cried to Beckham, seeking comfort, but his patience wore thin. “Kiana,” he said during one call, “you’re being dramatic. Stop trying to manipulate me.”

I swallowed the bitterness and stopped reaching out.

Meanwhile, Ruby posted dozens of updates daily, her livestreams filled with laughter and luxury. Her followers grew, and so did her influence.

Two weeks later, the pack healer informed me I had a rare heart condition. Without a transplant, I had only six months to live.

I crouched in the hospital hallway, clutching the diagnosis in my trembling hands, and sobbed until my throat was raw. When I finally calmed down, the first person I called was Beckham.

“Beckham,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m sick. I need you to come back.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. “Kiana,” he said, his tone laced with skepticism, “aren’t you a bit old to be faking an illness for attention?”

The line went dead, and I was left alone with the echo of his disbelief.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I blurted out, "It's true. I'll send you my medical report!"

Beckham was silent, and through the phone, I heard Ruby sigh regretfully. Her voice, soft and gentle, carried the weight of someone who knew exactly how to manipulate a situation.

"Let it go, Beck," she said, her tone dripping with false concern. "Since Kiana's so worried, you should go back and be with her. I can manage on my own."

His tone softened instantly, as it always did when Ruby spoke. "Don't say that. We promised to accompany you on this trip. We can't just leave you behind."

When he turned his attention back to me, his voice was cold and disapproving, the kind of tone that made my wolf whimper in the back of my mind. "I sent you a gift. Just focus on your work." He paused, then added, "We're worn out here. Don't call unless absolutely necessary." The call ended abruptly, leaving me clutching the phone like a lifeline.

Ruby's message popped up on WhatsApp before I could even process his words: "If you're smart, stop bothering Beck. We have a history you can't even imagine!" Before I could respond, she deleted the message, leaving me staring at the blank screen.

Later, I checked her Instagram and saw she had posted a picture, cuddling up to Beckham with a bashful smile and flushed cheeks. "Beck says he's going to buy me a giant Winnie the Pooh bear. I'm too old for this, isn't it ridiculous?" His sparkling smile pierced my heart. At that moment, I realized he was truly slipping away from me.

I quit my job and checked myself into the hospital alone. The sterile walls and the hum of machines did nothing to ease the fear gnawing at me. The pre-operative test results were unsettling, and the chill that ran through me had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

I couldn't eat dinner. Clutching my report, I called Beckham again. It took him a while to answer, and when he did, his voice was distant, as if I were an afterthought. With a trembling voice, I said, "Beck, I'm really scared. Could you talk to me for a bit?"

He responded with a half-hearted "Hmm," and I heard Ruby's laughter getting closer.

"Beck, why are you sitting down again? You promised to push me on the swing," she teased, her voice light and playful. She acted surprised upon seeing his call. "Is it Kiana on the phone? Am I interrupting?"

"No, Kiana said she's scared," he replied, his tone softening again, but not for me. For her.

Ruby hesitated, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you think my sister is using her illness to ask for money?"

"My friends back home said they've seen her shopping at high-end stores. She might have burned through the money by now." Beckham's tone suddenly became stern, the kind of voice that made me feel like a pup being scolded by her Alpha. "So that's what you meant. No wonder you keep saying you're sick."

"Kiana, I know you weren't spoiled by your adoptive parents, but their money isn't limitless. You can't just spend recklessly. That's it, I'm going to tell them to temporarily cut off your card. You need to reflect on this."

The call ended abruptly. When I tried calling back, his phone was off. My parents were unreachable too.

My heart started pounding painfully, the mate bond screaming its agony through every part of me. The patient next to me urgently called a doctor, barely stabilizing my condition.

The next day, unexpectedly, Beckham called.

For a fleeting moment, I thought he might have realized his mistake and was calling to apologize.

But when the video connected, I saw Ruby beside him, holding her phone.

"Sis, it's been ages! Did you receive the gift we sent you?" Her enthusiasm was unusual, and I fought my heart pain to borrow Neriah's phone to check her account.

Sure enough, she was livestreaming!

In the comments, seeing the hospital background, someone asked if I was sick.

With a sigh, Ruby said, "Don't blame my sister. If I hadn't replaced her parents, she wouldn't pretend to be sick for attention."

Beckham frowned, his Alpha aura radiating through the screen. "Why bring that up again? It was a mix-up at birth, not your fault."

Laughs echoed in the comments, and Ruby stuck out her tongue playfully.

I bit my lip and showed him my medical report. "Beck, I have a heart condition. I need a transplant surgery, or else I'll..."

"Here we go again."

Suddenly, my mom's impatient voice cut through. I froze.

I'd kept my illness a secret from both my real parents and adoptive parents, not wanting them to worry. Never imagined they knew all along and even thought I was pretending!

Beckham sighed, his Alpha tone cutting through me like a knife. "You're wasting your energy on these stories instead of focusing on your work. I heard you quit your job. Does being an Alvarez's daughter mean you don't need to work?"

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the increasingly unfamiliar face on my phone, my voice cracking.

"Beckham, do you truly not believe me?"

His silence was answer enough.