Chapter 3

Elara POV:

The next morning, Damien walked into my office at the Blackstone Group headquarters, carrying a container of my favorite congee from the little shop near my old apartment.

He was playing the part of the devoted mate, his face a perfect mask of contrition and affection.

"I was a fool, Elara," he said, setting the food on my desk. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I looked at him, at the man I had loved since I was a girl, and felt nothing but a cold, hollow ache. The video Kaelan had shown me played on a loop in my mind. "She's just a political necessity."

"As a gesture of goodwill," he continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside me, "I was thinking we could make Seraphina the new face of our renewable energy line. She has a... fresh look. It could be good for the brand."

I stared at him, my blood running cold. He wanted to use pack money to make his mistress famous.

"No," I said, my voice flat.

"Elara, don't be difficult. It's just business."

"You think I'm being difficult?" The words came out sharper than I intended.

He sighed, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "Honestly? Yes. Let's be pragmatic. Your public appeal is waning. A younger face is a strategic asset for the brand's image."

My appeal was waning. He said it so casually, as if he were discussing stock prices.

I stood up. "I need to speak with the tech team about the quarterly projections. You should stay here and review the Silver Creek proposal."

I walked out, and as soon as I was out of his sight, I used my keycard to lock down the executive elevator, cutting off access to his floor. He was trapped.

Then I went straight to the IT department.

"I need access to Beta Damien's private data terminal," I told Marcus, the head of technology and a wolf whose loyalty was to me, not to Damien. "There's a security breach I need to investigate personally."

A flash of rage, cold and sharp, pulsed through me, and for a second, the air in the room seemed to crackle. Marcus took an involuntary step back, his eyes wide. He didn't question me. Within minutes, we were staring at the contents of Damien's hidden files.

It was all there. Just as Kaelan had said. A web of shell corporations, secret transfers, and laundered pack funds dating back over a year. He had stolen millions. Our millions.

My fingers trembled as I clicked on a link to an overseas gossip blog. The headline read: "Mysterious Billionaire Gifts Lavish Mansions to New Starlet."

And there she was. Seraphina. Posing on the balcony of a villa overlooking the Mediterranean, a triumphant smile on her face. A home bought with the profits from a deal I had spent six months negotiating.

Fifteen years. The friendship, the love, the shared struggle-it all evaporated in that single, searing moment, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal. A low, keening sound threatened to escape my throat, the sound of my inner wolf's grief. I bit down hard on the back of my hand, the sharp pain a welcome distraction, the taste of my own blood grounding me.

"Copy everything," I ordered Marcus, my voice a strained whisper. "And plant a monitoring spell. I want to see every move he makes."

Just as Marcus finished, my office door burst open. It was Damien, out of breath and his suit rumpled.

"The elevator was down!" he panted, feigning concern. "I got worried. I ran up the stairs. All 22 floors." He fussed over me, straightening my collar in front of the other pack members in the office. "Are you okay, my love?"

The sheer absurdity of it all was so overwhelming, I almost laughed. He was putting on a show for an audience that no longer mattered, a play whose ending I had already rewritten.

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