Chapter 3

“Come to the main house for dinner tonight. Elder Luna invited a few people.” Marcus’s message arrived at four in the afternoon.

When I arrived, seven or eight people were sitting in the living room.

The core members of the Shadow Fang Pack, usually busy with their own tasks, were all gathered today.

At the dinner table, my seat was gone.

Catherine sat on Marcus’s right, with Liam on her lap.

My usual chair had been pushed to the corner.

“Luna Elena is here. Grab a chair for yourself,” Victoria said, not even looking up.

Margaret spoke up, her eyes scanning Catherine and Liam, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “He really does look like you when you were little.”

Marcus smiled, not denying it.

Margaret turned to Catherine. “Long time no see.”

“Yes, Margaret,” Catherine replied, smiling sweet and demure.

Victoria piped up, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Exactly. Some people have been here for five years without a single sign of a pup. Others come back, and in three months, the child is already running around.”

At a table full of people, not a single soul spoke up for me.

They cut their steaks, poured their wine, and occasionally exchanged knowing glances.

No one looked at me.

I stood there, holding a glass of water.

“Luna Elena, don’t just stand there. Sit,” Marcus finally spoke, pointing to a small, temporary chair placed at the far end of the table.

I didn't sit. “Where is the messenger I sent to my father?”

“We’re having dinner. Why bring that up now?”

The table fell silent for a few seconds.

“Luna Elena,” Victoria tapped her fork against the table. “Are you trying to make a scene in front of everyone?”

“Is this what you call making a scene?”

“You just have no sense of decorum,” Margaret put down her glass, her voice turning cold. “Marcus has been more than generous with you. You haven't produced an heir in five years, and he hasn't complained. In any other pack, you would have been rejected long ago.”

I looked at Margaret. “So he brings his mistress and bastard home, and I’m supposed to bow down in gratitude?”

Margaret’s face twisted. “How dare you speak like that?”

“Am I not stating facts?”

“Enough.” Marcus finally set his fork down. His voice wasn’t loud, but it instantly silenced the room.

He looked at me, his eyes showing no anger, only a condescending patience. “Elena, you’re tired. Sit down and eat.”

I didn't sit. “Where is the messenger I sent to my father?”

“I said, we don’t discuss this at the dinner table.”

“What did you do to him?”

The room fell dead silent for three seconds.

Marcus stared at me, a trace of a smirk still lingering on his lips. “What do you think?”

My heart sank.

But I didn’t press further. I wouldn't get answers now anyway.

Catherine kept her head down, feeding Liam, keeping quiet and avoiding my gaze.

But her phone screen lit up. I caught her sneakily typing a quick message: *"It's handled."*

Who she sent it to, I couldn't see clearly.

But I clearly saw the nickname of the chat thread: *Baby's Daddy.*

At eleven PM, I sat alone in my bedroom.

All my resource permissions were severed. My communication channels were blocked. The entire pack leadership stood by his side.

From the room next door, the faint, sweet sound of Catherine cooing to her child drifted in.

I pulled out my phone, stared at my father’s contact number, and put it back down.

Not yet.

But I snapped a picture of the half-filled vial of "supplement" and saved it in a secure folder only I could access.

The day I walked out of here, this evidence would serve its purpose.

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