Chapter 2

When Ron came home, it was already evening.

He still wore the charcoal gray shirt from this morning. There was no suspicious perfume scent on him—only the clean fragrance of his usual pine and cedar blend.

Seeing my red-rimmed eyes, he quickly approached and cupped my face with one hand.

"What's wrong? Did you watch another one of those tearjerker movies?"

Then he held up a dessert box with his right hand.

"I saw a long line when I passed by, thought you might like it, so I grabbed one."

The explanation was airtight.

I looked up into those amber eyes that had once captivated me completely.

"Ron, is there... anything you're keeping from me?"

His hand paused while opening the dessert box.

A moment later, his familiar gentle smile returned. He placed the dessert in my hand and ruffled my hair.

His tone was full of indulgent exasperation.

"Arya, are you getting anxious about the marking ceremony? Don't you know how much I love you?"

He pulled my hand to his chest, over his heart. "Besides, how could I possibly hide anything from—"

His phone rang, cutting him off.

He glanced at the screen and quickly dismissed the call.

"You eat first. I need to take this call. I'll be right back."

His speech was faster than usual as he turned toward his study.

Another anomaly.

He used to never hide phone calls from me.

Even the council's most classified matters—he'd discuss them openly in my presence.

"You're the person I trust most," he used to say. "There's nothing I can't let you know."

I looked down at the exquisite dessert in my hand.

It was covered with hazelnuts—unavoidable no matter where you looked.

I'm allergic to hazelnuts—Ron had known this since our first month together.

On our first date, he'd ordered me a hazelnut latte. After one sip, I couldn't breathe. He'd carried me to the hospital and waited anxiously outside the emergency room for five hours.

After that, he remembered all my allergens.

For five years, he'd never made a mistake with such details.

Until now.

Until there was someone more important, someone whose dietary preferences needed remembering more than mine.

Soon he emerged from the study and went straight to the kitchen. His voice carried from afar: "I know you haven't been sleeping well, so I made you some chamomile tea."

Shortly after, he handed me a cup.

"Drink this. It'll help you sleep well."

He seemed not to notice the untouched dessert.

"Arya, the council has something urgent—"

"So you're going out?" I cut him off before he could finish.

He froze, then nodded with visible relief:

"Yes, there's been a new development in the Northern territory dispute. Several Elders are calling an emergency meeting to discuss strategy."

I looked into his eyes:

"Can you not go?"

His expression froze for an instant.

"Arya, don't be difficult." A hint of impatience crept into his voice, though he quickly masked it with gentleness.

"You know I'm working this hard for our future."

He sat beside me and took my hand.

"I need to prove to Mother that even without her support, I, Ron Blackwood, can become a worthy Alpha heir through my own abilities. I want to give you the best life, make the entire pack accept you."

"Once I inherit the Alpha position, no one will question your status anymore. No one will say you're not good enough for me."

His voice was earnest and affectionate, almost making me believe him again.

Ron's mother, the current pack Alpha Vivian Blackwood, had never accepted me.

The reason was simple: my bloodline wasn't pure enough, my background wasn't prestigious enough—I wasn't worthy of the Blackwood family's glory.

Ron had originally had an arranged marriage—to some ancient family's daughter with pure bloodlines and powerful connections.

But he'd refused that match for my sake.

Vivian had been furious. She'd immediately cut off all his financial support, expelled him from the main estate, and declared that only if he could establish himself in the pack within three years without family help and earn the Elder council's recognition would she reconsider acknowledging our relationship.

So for these three years, Ron hadn't stopped working for a single moment.

And I'd pushed myself to the limit, climbing from a non-pureblood she-wolf to a council position step by step, all to prove I was worthy of standing beside him.

Terrified that Vivian's words—"What can she do besides drag you down?"—would come true.

She'd never stopped trying to make me give up.

Starting at ten thousand, then fifty thousand.

And a month ago, when she pushed that check in front of me: one hundred million.

The condition was always the same: leave my son.

I'd never accepted.

Because I loved Ron, and I believed he loved me.

I stubbornly believed that true soulmates could transcend bloodlines and class, could overcome all prejudice.

Until this moment, when everything I'd believed began cracking like ice.

Seeing my silence, he softened his tone again. "I know I've been too busy and neglected you lately. Don't worry, I'll wait until you're asleep before I leave."

"Go ahead and drink your sleepy tea. Get some rest."

I looked into those amber eyes that seemed so full of me, and slowly drank the tea he'd prepared.

This wasn't surrender—it was the beginning of my search for truth.

Drowsiness came quickly, far beyond what one cup of chamomile tea should cause.

Ron carried me to bed. I watched his retreating figure.

Darkness swallowed everything.

But my consciousness didn't completely fade.

About ten minutes later, I felt something awakening inside me—a sensation I'd never experienced before, like flames burning through my blood.

My perception suddenly became unusually acute.

I heard Ron's lowered voice from the living room—Ron, who was supposed to be handling urgent business.

"...She's asleep... Yes, took the medicine... Don't worry, she won't wake up..."

Then came the sound of a door opening, and a woman's giggling laugh as she threw herself into his arms.

"I thought you wouldn't let me in tonight~"

"Sweetheart, you've been waiting outside this whole time—how could I bear not to let you in?"

His voice was full of indulgence, the kind of tenderness I'd thought belonged only to me.

I struggled to get up but found my body still unable to move.

Yet my consciousness remained clear, sustained by that strange power.

I heard their footsteps enter the adjacent guest room—the room that had always been empty, that Ron said we were saving for our future children.

Now it had become the site of his betrayal.