Audrey's POV
Lisa sent me a picture.
A quick snapshot—blurred around the edges—of an old, yellowed sheet of letter paper.
My father's handwriting.
My breath hitched. My heart raced. I immediately called her. She picked up on the first ring, like she'd been sitting there waiting for the moment she could twist the knife.
"Well, Audrey," she purred, "did you see what I sent you?"
My voice came out sharp, almost a snarl. "Where did you get that? Give it back. Now."
My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles blanched.
That letter… it was one of the last things my father left me before he passed. One of the few keepsakes I still had of him.
Lisa gave a saccharine little laugh. "Oh, so it is yours? They found it while cleaning your condo. Locked in your safe."
A pointed pause.
"You should be grateful the safe protected it. Otherwise, it would've burned in the fire."
My brows furrowed, anger boiling under my skin.
"If you want it back," she continued, voice sharpening, "there's only one price. Divorce Rowan today, and the letter is yours."
I inhaled slowly, forcing my pulse to steady. And then—I let out a cold, humorless laugh.
"So eight years playing his hidden little side-mate finally got to you? Couldn't stay in the shadows any longer?"
"Shut up!" Lisa snapped, fury breaking her sugary tone. "Don't twist this. Be at the villa this afternoon. You'll sign the divorce papers, or you'll never see that letter again."
My eyes narrowed. So that was her game.
Fine. If she wanted to hand me my freedom, I wouldn't refuse.
"Good," I said simply, and hung up.
Later that day, I arrived at the villa.
The front door stood open, letting soft piano notes drift out. I tensed instinctively. Leaning on my crutch, I limped inside.
There, in the center of the grand living room, sat a glossy black piano worth more than most wolves made in a lifetime. Lisa, in a fluttering white dress that made her look like a fragile little lamb, played delicately—fingers flitting across the keys.
She finished with a flourish before turning, pretending to notice me only then. Her smile was dripping sweetness.
"Oh, Audrey. You came."
I didn't bother with the charade. "Where's my father's letter?"
Lisa's smirk widened. Instead of answering, she drifted to the sofa and sat with unnecessary grace. "You're a guest. Why not sit, have a cup of tea?"
Her fingers brushed the necklace at her throat. A sapphire pendant.
A very familiar sapphire pendant.
My gaze sharpened.
Lisa's eyes gleamed. "Recognize it?"
Of course I did.
Last year, for our seventh anniversary, Rowan had given me that necklace as a birthday gift. Or so I'd believed.
I'd cherished it, locked it safely away.
Seeing it now—on her—made my stomach twist.
A quiet laugh slipped out of me, razor-thin. Rowan really had perfected the art of pleasing two mates at once.
Every year on my birthday, Rowan had slipped away early, always with some urgent pack business. I blew out my candles alone more often than not. Last year had been the only time he stayed until the end.
I'd clung to that moment like it meant something.
Then this year…
The explosion.
The chaos.
And Rowan, shoving past me to cradle Lisa, dragging her into the ambulance with a desperation he'd never shown me.
So that was what it looked like when he truly cared.
Lisa tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "Your necklace is fake, by the way."
My muscles went rigid.
"Rowan bought the real one," she murmured, stroking the sapphire, "but he gave you the copy. This"—she touched the gleaming stone—"is the original."
A cold throb settled in my chest.
I had guarded that necklace like it was something precious. But of course—Rowan's real treasure was sitting in front of me, not beside him in the shadows.
How long had they laughed behind my back?
Lisa's tone turned light, almost playful. "Last time, when you told Sylvia I was staying here, she screamed at me for an hour. Isn't it only fair I return the favor?"
My heart roared with fury. I locked down my expression, spine stiffening.
"Mom!"
Fen's voice drifted from upstairs.
My head snapped toward the stairs instantly—instinct, maternal instinct, wolf instinct, all tangled together.