Aria’s POV
There was nothing left to say to Nathan.
He would always choose Sophia, always. I no longer expected anything from him.
Without another word, I turned and took Lana back to the bedroom. Once the door shut behind us, the world narrowed.
I placed Lana gently on the bed and checked her over again, my hands careful and my senses sharp. I breathed in her scent and it cald the wolf pacing in my chest.
I didn’t trust Sophia. Not near my child.
A knock sounded at the door. The nanny stepped in quietly, carrying a small bowl of cereal. Lana was growing fast, already moving on to thicker foods. Ti slipped through my fingers like sand.
I straightened, my voice turning firm, edged with authority even I rarely used.
“From now on, don’t leave Lana with anyone else. Anyone.”
The nanny froze for a second, clearly startled. It was the first ti she’d ever seen like this. She nodded quickly, promising again and again not to do so moving forward, then she left.
Only when the door closed did I relax and decided to start feeding Lana.
“Mommy?” Lana said as soon as I brought a spoonful of cereal to her mouth.
The word hit like a soft blow to the chest.
I paused, the spoon hovering in the air, staring at Lana in disbelief. She smiled up at , bright and proud. Her pronunciation was clear...no babbling, no half-sounds.
Not Momo but Mommy.
My heart clenched painfully.
Guilt washed over in a slow, aching wave. I’d been so busy lately, so tangled in chaos and survival, that I’d stolen monts from her without even realizing it.
“I’m here,” I whispered, my voice softening instantly. “Mommy’s here.”
My wolf quieted within as I fed her another spoonful. Lana ate obediently, soon finishing the small bowl with a satisfied hum.
When she was full, I set the bowl aside and lay down beside her, pulling her close as I began telling her stories about moonlit forests and kind wolves who always found their way ho.
At first, she echoed a few of my words, eyes wide with curiosity. Then her lashes fluttered, her breathing evening out as sleep claid her.
I watched her for a long ti.
Her peaceful face lted sothing tight and aching inside my chest. Carefully, I laid her flat, tucked the blanket around her, and sat back. The room was quiet, wrapped in the soft rhythm of her breathing.
For the first ti that day, my anxieties ebbed.
The silence was soothing, but sleep wouldn’t co.
I reached for my phone out of habit.
The mont the screen lit up, I sat straight up.
Alia had leaked the evidence.
The materials Francis had submitted to court were now public, spread across the internet like wildfire. The comnts were flooded not with mockery this ti, but with legal professionals dissecting the evidence line by line.
The conclusion was unanimous.
Francis would win.
Alia’s verified account was overwheld with ssages, yet her response remained calm and unwavering.
“I have no private dealings with Aria,” she stated publicly. “Our professions naturally intersect, which led to so contact. Francis’ court case was the first ti we t or communicated after her release.”
Skepticism still lingered among so netizens, but the tide was turning.
More and more lawyers stepped forward, people who knew Alia’s reputation well. Judges like her were rare, feared by corruption. Cases long considered dead had found justice in her hands.
The internet was a battlefield, and I’d learned long ago how quickly it could turn its claws on soone. But this ti, the fangs withdrew. Accusations that I’d colluded with Judge Alia faded one by one, replaced by sothing I hadn’t expected.
Recognition, understanding and Innocence.
I blinked at the screen, my wolf lifting its head in cautious surprise. Too fast. The shift was too clean, too coordinated to be natural outrage burning itself out.
Sothing moved the public. Soone was definitely involved.
My fingers hovered before I typed a ssage, asking Francis if it was his doing.
Despite the late hour, the reply ca instantly.
No.
I frowned, tightening my grip on the phone. The blue light reflected faintly off my eyes as my thoughts raced. Alia had influence, yes..but even she couldn’t rally this many legal professionals in such perfect unison.
This wasn’t chance.
If it wasn’t Francis... then who?
Rowland’s face surfaced in my mind...his lazy smile, sharp eyes, that roguish charm that never quite reached his gaze. He carried himself like soone who didn’t belong anywhere yet feared nothing.
But this was Asterfell.
And Rowland felt like soone on a personal detour, not a commander calling the public to order.
I exhaled slowly, my wolf circling the question tht troubled .
Who was behind it?
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