Chapter 2: The Imposter

(Layla's POV)

Eamon's sudden accusation made my heart stop. I felt my heart pounding. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Why? Why did he recognize my disguise in just a few minutes?

My mind was running wild and I wondered what I had done wrong that had caused the reveal.

"You're not my fiancée," he repeated, his eyes boring into mine. "Who are you?"

My hands trembled in my lap. I knew I should deny it, should maintain the charade that Mrs. Mia had so carefully constructed, but panic clouded my thoughts.

"How can you say that?" I finally managed, my voice barely audible. "We haven't seen each other for a long time. Are you feeling well?"

Eamon's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Ella would always show off with the flowers I gave her," he said, nodding toward the bouquet I'd placed aside. "Instead of just drinking tea and eating like you're starving."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I hadn't realized how eagerly I'd been consuming the pastries. My hunger had betrayed me.

Of course, I'm not Ella Graves. The noble Miss Graves. I could never be her, no matter how blonde my hair was dyed or how green my contacts were. But I couldn't tell him that. Mrs. Mia would be furious. The punishment would be severe.

From what I'd overheard from the gossiping maids, Ella had disappeared two years ago—run away from home, they whispered. The Graves had been searching for her relentlessly, but to no avail. Then they found me.

I am Layla, an Omega with nothing. An Omega with amnesia.

I had lost my memories three or four years ago. All I recalled were flashes of a terrible attack—rogue wolves, screaming, blood. I don't remember my family anymore, maybe they all died in that attack. I had collapsed with fever, rescued by a kind stranger. After recovering, I worked at a coffee shop until Mrs. Mia spotted me, claiming I looked exactly like her missing daughter.

She brought me here as Ella's replacement—an omega standing in for a beta's daughter. Despite the harsh treatment, I was grateful. She gave me shelter, food, education—things I might never have had otherwise.

But now Eamon had seen through it all instantly.

I saw something strange flicker in his eyes as he studied me—a flash of something wild and primal. He looked almost... confused by his own reaction.

"I..." I began, but the words died in my throat. I couldn't confess. I didn't dare. Mrs. Mia would throw me out—or worse.

Eamon seemed to sense my fear. His expression softened slightly.

"Actually," he said, his tone gentler now, "I know Ella is missing."

My breath caught. I set my teacup down carefully, afraid my trembling hands would drop it.

"I've been secretly helping to find her for months," he continued. "With no success."

The sadness in his voice was genuine. My heart ached for him—this handsome, powerful wolf who had lost someone he cared for.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to maintain his gaze.

He studied me with curiosity rather than anger. He seemed to understand my reluctance to speak. Instead of pressing me further, he simply nodded.

"It must be difficult," he said cryptically.

I remained silent, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

A strange expression crossed his face then, his brows furrowing as if he was listening to something I couldn't hear.

"My wolf, Eric..." he began, then shook his head as if dismissing a thought. "Never mind."

I waited, confused by his unfinished sentence.

Eamon's intense gaze returned to me, making my heart flutter in my chest.

"But now," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips, "I am your fiancé."

My heart thumped wildly at his words, springing to life in a way I hadn't felt before. No one had ever looked at me the way Eamon was looking at me now—like I was someone worth seeing.

"I'd like to meet with you again," he said, standing. "Soon."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and anticipation. "I'd like that too."

After he left, I clutched the bouquet to my chest, inhaling the sweet scent. The pink tulips were beautiful—the first gift I'd received in years. I imagined what it would be like to be married to someone like Eamon—so handsome, so kind, so devoted.

In my heart, I envied Ella. How could she have run from this? From him?

"What are you doing, you filthy omega?"

The harsh voice shattered my reverie. I looked up to find Clara, the head kitchen maid, flanked by Sophie and another maid.

"Look at her," Sophie sneered. "Acting like she's actually a lady."

Clara strode forward and snatched the bouquet from my hands. "These aren't for you."

"They were given to me," I protested weakly, reaching for them.

"To Ella Graves," Clara corrected, holding the flowers away from me. "Not to some filthy omega pretending to be her."

Sophie began tugging at my dress. "And this certainly isn't yours either. Take it off before you soil it more than you already have."

I had no choice but to comply as they stripped me of the beautiful blue dress, leaving me in just my undergarments. The chill air raised goosebumps on my skin, but the burning humiliation was worse.

"There," Clara said, satisfied. "Now you look like what you are. A pathetic omega who doesn't deserve nice things."

They left with the dress and flowers, laughing together. I hugged myself, fighting back tears. I was just an omega—unworthy, unwanted. I should be grateful for any kindness at all.

I dressed quickly in my plain clothes and hurried to my piano practice. Mrs. Mia would be checking my progress tonight, and I couldn't disappoint her.

My fingers still bore the welts from this morning's lesson, but I pushed through the pain. For hours, I practiced Chopin's Ballade, determined to play it perfectly.

At precisely eight o'clock, Mrs. Mia swept into the room, her face unreadable.

"Play," she commanded, settling into a chair.

I began, my heart racing. When I finished, I looked up hopefully.

Mrs. Mia's lips pursed. "Mediocre at best. Ella would have played it flawlessly."

My shoulders slumped.

"If she hadn't disappeared, I wouldn't be forced to make do with you," she continued bitterly. "Your roots are showing again. You'll dye your hair immediately. And you'll go without dinner tonight."

My empty stomach clenched in protest, but I nodded obediently. No dinner meant another night of gnawing hunger, but I'd endured worse.

The door was suddenly opened, and Mr. Bob Graves strode in, I had always been a little afraid of him. He was burly, imposing, and very much in keeping with the Beta of the Golden Moon Pack.

Now, he looks excited, his face flushed with emotion.

"Mia! The most wonderful news!" he exclaimed, barely noticing me. "I've just come from the Alpha. Eamon has decided to consummate their engagement! The wedding date is set for next month!"

Mrs. Mia's gasp of delight echoed through the room. "Next month? It's confirmed?"

"Yes!" Bob beamed. "Everything we've worked for is finally happening! Our daughter will be Luna!"

I sat frozen at the piano bench, my mind reeling. Wedding? Next month?

I was going to be married to Eamon Thorne.