When I mentioned my mother’s painting, Taylor's expression softened slightly.

I knew he was remembering the time when the Medina Pack had fallen into ruin.

Back then, Taylor had been stripped of his Alpha authority, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. He was consumed by despair, drowning himself in whiskey night after night. The pack’s funds were drained, and even the loyal Omegas abandoned us.

One night, Taylor drank himself into a stupor and didn’t wake for three days. Terrified, I sold my mother’s painting—her most cherished possession—to afford a healer for him.

Later, when the pack recovered and I managed to buy the painting back, Taylor was both shocked and remorseful. He almost knelt before me, swearing his gratitude.

He was moved that I had loved him enough to sacrifice something so precious.

And he was angry at himself for letting his grief consume him.

For a while, after that, Taylor treated me with unparalleled tenderness.

I believed we were bound by more than just the mate bond—that we truly loved each other.

But that was before Louise Bennett.

Now, I clung to the last shred of hope, desperate for Taylor to show some semblance of the man I once thought he was.

Taylor’s guilt flickered across his face.

“Louise didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll find someone to restore the painting for you.”

Before he could finish, Louise suddenly collapsed, her body going limp.

Taylor’s eyes widened, and he turned to rush to her side.

I stepped in front of him, my chest heaving like a broken bellows, my voice trembling with rage.

“She destroyed my mother’s painting. She doesn’t get to walk away!”

Taylor’s expression darkened, and he shoved me aside, his Alpha tone cutting through the air like a blade.

“Eden, it’s just a painting! I can get you a hundred more! But if you’re willing to risk Louise’s life over something so trivial, you’re even more selfish than I thought.”

I stood frozen, his words like claws to my heart.

Mom, I whispered silently, tears blurring my vision. I was wrong.

No matter what I do, I’ll never be enough in his eyes.

Not when Louise is there.

And just like that, my heart shattered into pieces.

I fell ill.

Holding the dried-up paints and brushes, I collapsed in the spring.

Outside the window, clusters of withered flowers hung like dead weight, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of my own state.

Sometimes, I felt those sickly blooms were me—fragile, broken, and fading.

The flowers were dying, and so was I.

My mother’s painting, her last keepsake, was gone, and with it, my spirit seemed to wither away.

Day after day, I counted the hours, waiting for my message to reach Lawson, my mentor and closest ally in the Oliver Pack.

When would he arrive in the city?

Sometimes, I would count for what felt like an eternity, only for my attendant to tell me it had only been a day.

Finally, a message came from Lawson:

“I’ll arrive in seven days. I’ve met a friend along the way who’s skilled in restoring paintings.”

By my calculations, he’d be here tomorrow.

And that friend of his might just be the one to save my mother’s painting!

With renewed determination, I packed the painting and supplies into a chest, carefully arranging each item.

That night, a fire broke out in the Bennett estate.

The rest of the estate was untouched, but the flames engulfed the quarters of the two young mates, Louise and her sister.

The fire raged with an intensity that left everyone shaken.

The sickly flowers outside my window reflected the blaze, their branches consumed by the flames.

As I watched them burn to ashes, I felt as though I, too, had been reborn.

The journey to Qingzhou was long and tedious.

On the way, I overheard a pair of werewolves whispering with smirks plastered across their faces:

“Has the Alpha of the Medina Pack woken up yet?”

“Yes, three days ago. But he’s been at odds with the Bennett Pack. It’s a mess.”

“Of course it is. How can an Alpha mourn his mate’s sister so desperately? I heard he shredded through the Bennett mansion until his claws were raw and bleeding. It’s terrifying.”

“I wonder who Alpha Taylor truly loves?”

“Who knows?”

Lawson, my Beta companion, cleared his throat, his expression tinged with concern.

“Eden,” he began carefully, “why did you destroy the Bennett mansion and fake your death before leaving? There must be more to it.”

He seemed to have more to say, but he held his tongue.

I gazed out at the rippling waves beyond the boat, my heart eerily calm.

“Lawson,” I said, my voice steady, “the past is behind me. From now on, I’m no longer Eden Bennett. I’ve taken my mother’s name. I’m Eden Mendez.”

Faking my death wasn’t for anyone else’s sake.

Certainly not to make Alpha Taylor Medina regret his actions to the point of despair.

That would’ve been too petty, too ridiculous.

I was never someone’s pawn, nor did I want my life tied to another’s emotions.

Whether Alpha Taylor thrived or suffered, it no longer concerned me.

From this moment on, I was no longer Eden Bennett.

And I would never see him again.