Chapter 3

After we got home, Willow was still quietly sobbing. She curled up in the corner of the sofa, hugging her little moonstone bunny plushie, her thin shoulders trembling.

I sat down beside her and gently pulled the blanket over her. Her cheeks were cold, still streaked with tears.

"Willow," I asked softly, "if Mommy had to leave this place, would you come with me?"

She looked up at me, her blue eyes full of confusion. "Why would we leave? This is our home."

I took a deep breath. "Because sometimes, staying in one place makes people very sad."

"Is it because of Daddy?" Her voice was small. "Or because Grandma doesn't like us?"

Children's instincts are startlingly accurate. I pulled her into my arms, feeling the warmth of her small body.

"Willow, remember what I told you? Sometimes the grown-up world is very complicated."

"Does that mean I can never call him Daddy again?"

"From now on, you can call him... Alpha Thorne."

She was silent for a long time, her little fingers winding around the plushie's ear.

"But I'll always be your daughter, right?"

"Always." I held her tighter. Her small body pressed against my chest, her breath warm and damp.

Looking at her, I thought again of that night seven years ago, the night of the lunar eclipse.

The canyon reeked of blood. He lay among the rocks, barely alive. I dragged him out of the blood, and he grabbed my hand and said, "I owe you my life."

Later, he took me to the mountaintop to watch the moon rise, holding me close. "From now on, you'll never be alone."

Back then, I believed him.

Moiraine entered our lives three days after the alliance negotiations collapsed.

She wore a perfectly tailored white suit, her face showing just the right amount of reserve. But in her hands, she held one-third of the Sterling family's territorial resources and a pureblood pedigree.

I still remember what Patricia said to Fenris that day: "The Elder Council needs her support, Fenris. And Moiraine needs an heir to secure her position."

I never thought he would actually go through with it. Not just once, not twice.

Over six years, in the name of "continuing the pack's bloodline," he spent seventy-three nights with her.

Moiraine was an expert performer. She always appeared at public events on his arm, her smile warm and refined.

And I could only stay home handling chores, raising our child, pretending I couldn't smell the night lily fragrance that lingered on his skin.

I was born in the Shadowclaw orphanage. She was born into a pureblood dynasty.

And because of that, our daughter became the pack's "inferior bloodline"—just fodder for their gossip.

For six years, every gathering of the Thorne Pack featured Moiraine's name.

My name only existed in a vow long forgotten.

In the six days that followed, Fenris never showed up.

No calls, no messages, not even a token greeting.

Today was Willow's birthday—and the night before we had planned to leave.

I had thought the day would pass quietly.

She woke up early and carefully set the candles on her cake, her eyes fixed on the door.

"Mommy," she asked hopefully, "is Daddy coming?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," I answered honestly.

Just then, my phone screen lit up with a brief message:

"Bring Willow to the Manor."

It was from Fenris's number. I stared at it for a few seconds.

Willow saw my expression and immediately looked up. "That's from Daddy, isn't it?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

She jumped up with a cheer, her eyes sparkling like stars. "He remembered! He's going to surprise me!"

I smiled, happy to see her excitement.

But I didn't know that message hadn't been sent by Fenris at all.

Under the night sky, Thorne Manor blazed with lights. Our car drove down the long cobblestone path, the rose fragrance cloying enough to suffocate.

Willow pressed her face to the window, gasping in delight. "Mommy, look! Such a huge cake!"

I looked up and saw the five-tiered white cake, my chest tightening slightly. Maybe he really did remember.

But the moment I saw Moiraine walk out on Fenris's arm, that absurd hope shattered completely.

She wore a silver-white gown, her smile flawless.

Patricia stood on the dais, her voice solemn as it cut through the crowd: "Tonight, with the Moon Goddess as witness—Fenris Thorne and Moiraine Sterling shall formally bond as mates!"

Willow froze. She turned to me, the light in her eyes dying piece by piece. "Mommy, this isn't my birthday party?"

"No, sweetheart." My voice caught.

The guests' whispers washed over us like a tide:

"Who is she? What's she doing here?"

"I heard she's been pretending to be the Alpha's wife."

"She even brought that child. Doesn't she know her place?"

Fenris finally noticed us. His face went pale in an instant as he strode toward us.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low and urgent.

"Didn't you ask me to come?" I asked coldly.

He faltered. Moiraine glided over and took his arm, her voice soft. "I thought Sienna should witness this moment in person. After all, we should all be moving forward."

Willow broke free of my hand and ran up to him, tilting her head back. "Daddy, did you forget my birthday?"

Fenris stood frozen, his lips parted, saying nothing.

The murmurs around us grew louder:

"That child called the Alpha 'Daddy'?"

"But Moiraine just announced she's pregnant."

Fenris's face went sheet-white. He glanced instinctively at the eyes boring into him, then back at Willow.

"Daddy," her voice was soft and clear, "you're going to cut the cake with me, right?"

A vein pulsed at his temple. His voice was tight. "What did you just call me?"

Willow blinked, not understanding what was happening.

"I..." She hesitated, then repeated quietly, "Daddy—"

The next second, he shoved her away.

The little girl stumbled and fell. A white pebble rolled from her pocket—one Fenris had picked up for her at the beach years ago. She had always kept it wrapped in a handkerchief, her most precious treasure.

The pebble rolled across the marble floor. She watched it go but didn't move to pick it up.

"Enough!" he shouted, his chest heaving. "Stop this nonsense!"

I saw his loss of control. I saw the tears in Willow's eyes.

Moiraine covered her mouth and murmured to Fenris, "That child really does need to learn some manners."

Fenris didn't disagree.

The next moment, Willow picked herself up from the ground and brushed the dust from her dress.

She lifted her head, her voice no longer trembling—clear and detached: "I apologize, Alpha Thorne. I was out of line."

Then she gave an awkward, newly-learned curtsy.

That gesture, far too mature for her age, made my heart feel like someone had seized it and twisted.

I understood.

My daughter's heart had died.