SOPHIA’S POV
I didn’t sleep that night. Every ti I closed my eyes, I saw those photos - Damien’s arm around Tiffany, the soft smile on his face.
By the ti the sun ca out, I was exhausted.
There was a knock on my door.
"Aunt Sophia?" Klara knocked softly on my door. "Are you awake?"
I opened the door to find my niece already dressed. Her backpack was on her shoulders. "I’m awake, sweetheart. What’s up?"
big eyes were full of concern. "Can we go to the amusent park? Please?"
The idea of spending the day surrounded by screaming children and overpriced carnival food didn’t exactly appeal to but looking at Klara’s hopeful face, I found myself nodding.
"Sure, baby. Let get dressed." I said.
-
We spent the entire day at the park. Klara dragged from ride to ride. Her excitent was contagious enough that I almost forgot about my problems......almost.
But every ti I checked my phone and I checked it obsessively - there were no new ssages from Damien. No missed calls. Nothing.
He’d called five tis last night, and now silence.
Which ant whatever urgency he’d felt had passed.
Either way, the ssage was clear: I wasn’t important enough to keep pursuing.
We didn’t get back to Sky Manor until after dark. Klara was exhausted, half-asleep on my shoulder as I carried her inside. Patricia t us at the door.
"How was it?" she asked, taking Klara from .
"Good. She had fun." I managed a tired smile. "I’m going to shower and probably crash early."
But just as I reached the stairs, my phone rang. Bianca’s na flashed on the screen.
I was shocked. Why was Bianca calling ?
I hesitated. We hadn’t spoken since our fight about Marcel, when she’d chosen to believe him over . But sothing made answer.
"Hello?" I said hesitantly.
"Sophia." Bianca’s voice was oddly calm. "Can you co pick up?"
"Where are you?"
"The Blue Moon bar downtown." She paused. "Please. I need you."
The words were simple, but sothing in her tone made my wolf go on alert. "Are you okay?"
"I will be. Just... please co."
"I’ll be there in twenty minutes."
I grabbed my keys and headed back out, ignoring Patricia’s concerned questions. The Blue Moon was one of the pack’s more upscale establishnt. The place had expensive drinks, VIP rooms. It was the kind of place where wealthy wolves went to see and be seen.
What was Bianca doing there?
When I arrived, the bouncer recognized as Luna. He waved through without the usual ID check.
The bar was crowded and loud. There was music pounding through expensive speakers. I scanned the room for Bianca and found her in a corner booth.
She was there with Marcel and three of his friends.
My wolf growled imdiately.
Was this a setup? Had Bianca called here to ambush sohow?
But then Bianca saw and her expression... sothing was wrong. Her eyes were too bright. Her smile felt forced.
She stood up and walked over to "Thank you for coming."
"What’s going on?" I asked quietly. "Why is Marcel here?"
"Because I need witnesses." Her voice was still calm. "Co on."
She grabbed my hand and pulled toward the booth. Marcel looked up as we approached. His expression shifting from smug to irritated when he saw .
"What’s she doing here?" he demanded.
"She’s my friend," Bianca said simply. She reached for sothing behind the bar. It was the remote for the sound system. The music cut off abruptly, and suddenly everyone in the VIP section was looking at us.
"Bianca, what are you-" Marcel started.
"I’m leaving you," Bianca said clearly. "I’m done with you, with this relationship, with all of it."
My eyes went wide with shock.
Marcel’s friends looked at each other. One of them tried to intervene. "Bianca, maybe you two should talk about this privately—"
"No." Bianca snapped.
I looked at Bianca in shock. Everything was happening so fast but I wasn’t surprised.
Marcel was an asshole. I was glad Biance finally had the chance to stand up to him.
Marcel laughed, but it sounded forced. "Baby, you’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go ho and we can talk about this-"
"I haven’t had anything to drink and I’m not going anywhere with you." Bianca pulled out her phone and held it up. "I have a recording of you from last night. Want to hear what you said about ?"
Marcel’s face went pale. "Bianca-"
She pressed play. Marcel’s voice ca through the phone speakers, slurred with alcohol but clear enough: "-stupid bitch thinks I’m going to marry her. Like I’d tie myself down to soone from her trash family. I’m just riding this out until sothing better cos along-"
I gasped in horror “What the-” I glared at Mark. I could feel my wolf growling inside “You fucking bastard!”
"Turn that off!" Marcel lunged for the phone, but Bianca stepped back smoothly.
"No. Everyone should hear what you really think, especially your friends here who keep telling how lucky I am to have you."
The recording continued. Marcel’s voice grew more crude, describing Bianca’s body in degrading terms, laughing about how easy she was to manipulate, making jokes about her dead father.
I watched Bianca’s face as the recording played. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch. She just stood there calmly.
When it finished, the silence in the VIP section was deafening.
"So that’s it," Bianca said "We’re done. Don’t call . Don’t text . Don’t co to my apartnt. If you try to contact , I’ll file a restraining order."
She turned to leave, and I followed her.
Behind us, I heard one of Marcel’s friends say, "Dude, that was-"
"Shut up!" Marcel’s voice was filled with panic. "She’ll co back. She always cos back. She’s got nowhere else to go-"
"Actually," Bianca said, turning back one more ti, "I have plenty of places to go. Places where people don’t treat like garbage." She looked at each of Marcel’s friends in turn. "And for the record, you all knew. You heard him talk about like that and said nothing. You’re just as bad as he is."
We walked out of the bar. Only then did Bianca show her emotions. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out a cigarette.
I just looked at her, not knowing what to say.
"I didn’t know you smoked," I said quietly.
"I don’t but tonight seems like a good night to start." She lit it with trembling fingers, took a drag, and imdiately started coughing. "Okay, that’s disgusting. How do people do this?"
She tossed the cigarette away. I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
She chuckled too. She looked at with eyes that were finally starting to show emotion—pain, anger, relief all mixed together.
My heart broke for her.
“I’m so sorry” I said “I-”
“No, I should be the one who is sorry. I was a bad friend to you”
“Bianca-”
"I heard him last night," she interrupted. "I went to his apartnt to surprise him, and he was on the phone with his friend. He was laughing about , about my family." Her voice broke. "About my dad who died trying to provide for us."
"Oh, Bianca-"
"And I realized I didn’t even recognize the man I’d been defending. The man I thought I loved." She wiped at her eyes. "You tried to tell . You tried to show what he was, and I called you jealous. I’m so sorry, Sophia."
I pulled her into a hug. "You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you finally saw the truth."
We stood there for a mont, then Bianca pulled back. "I need your help with sothing."
"Anything."
"I need to get my things from his apartnt tonight, before he cos back and tries to talk out of it." She looked at steadily. "Will you co with ?"
"Of course."
We drove to Marcel’s apartnt in silence. Bianca had a key, and we let ourselves in. The place was a ss. There were dishes in the sink, clothes everywhere. It had that particular sll of a man who’d never learned to properly clean.
"How did I ever think this was acceptable?" Bianca muttered, grabbing a suitcase from the closet.
While she packed, my phone rang. Damien’s na flashed on the screen.
I almost didn’t answer but sothing made pick up.
"What?" I answered coldly.
"Where are you?" Damien’s tone was equally icy.
"That’s none of your business."
"You’re still my wife. That makes it my business."
"Your wife in na only, rember? You made that very clear." I moved to the window, looking out at the city lights. "What do you want, Damien?"
"I want to know where you were Saturday night."
The question caught off guard. "What?"
"Saturday. Where were you? There are photos circulating-"
"Photos of what?"
"Of a woman who looks remarkably like you at a luxury resort. With Zade Morrison."
I almost laughed. So that’s what this was about. There wasn’t concern for my wellbeing. He wasn’t missing . it was just jealousy over tabloid photos.
"And if it was ?" I asked. "What would you do about it?"
"Sophia-"
"You’ve made it clear you’re moving on with Tiffany. You invited her to live in our ho. You call her family. You post intimate photos with her on social dia." My voice was hard. "So why do you care if I was with Zade or anyone else?"
"Because you’re my mate," he said.
"The mate bond you’ve ignored for years? The one you broke every ti you chose her over ?" I laughed bitterly. "You don’t get to claim that now, Damien. You don’t get to be jealous when you’re the one who pushed away."
"I’m not pushing you away. I’m trying to-"
"Fuck off, Damien” I snapped.
Then, I hung up.
User Comments
0 comments from readers