Chapter 3
Mom burst into my bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Tears streamed down her furious, flushed face. "I'm going to tell him you're dying!"
"No!" I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist.
"Bella!"
"You promised," I panted. "You swore to me."
"They're mocking you in your own home! That girl is parading him around like a trophy, rubbing it in your face. And he's just letting her do it!"
"I don't care." I looked up at her. "Mom, please. Let me do this. It’s my last wish."
She froze. The anger drained out of her body, leaving only a hollow, crushing grief.
"Just let me be near him," I whispered, my vision swimming. "Before I go. Even if he hates me. Please."
She sobbed, burying her face in my shoulder. She knew she couldn't deny my dying plea.
She wiped her tears and helped me secure a wig to hide my thinning, brittle hair. She layered heavy blush over my ashen cheeks, desperately trying to fake a healthy glow. Then, she draped a thick, oversized cashmere coat over my shoulders to hide how dangerously emaciated I had become.
She lifted me into the wheelchair. I gripped the leather armrests tightly. "Ready."
The wheels squeaked against the hallway floor.
As we entered the living room, Kaelen turned. His piercing Alpha gaze locked onto me instantly. I expected anger. I expected the burning hatred I saw at the airport terminal seven years ago.
Instead, his face was a mask of cold, unfiltered disdain.
His eyes raked over the wheelchair, the heavy coat, and my carefully painted face. His jaw ticked.
"Still playing the fragile princess, I see," Kaelen scoffed.
"You always were spoiled."
"It’s a broken leg, Bella. Not a terminal illness. You’re making your elderly mother wait on you hand and foot just to roll out of a bedroom? I see your character hasn't improved with age."
My mother stiffened behind me. Her grip on the wheelchair handles tightened until her knuckles turned stark white. I reached back quickly, squeezing her hand to keep her quiet.
I forced a light, dismissive laugh. "You know what they say. A hundred days for a broken bone to heal. I’m just taking it easy."
Sloane quickly stepped between us. She wrapped her arms around Kaelen’s waist, pressing her body flush against his chest. She projected a sickeningly sweet Omega scent, deliberately pushing her pheromones toward me to establish dominance.
"Oh, don't be so mean to her, Kae," Sloane pouted.
She looked over her shoulder at me with a triumphant, glittering smirk. "You have to excuse him, Bella. He’s always this grumpy and impatient with outsiders. He saves all his gentle side just for me."
Outsiders.
The word hurts me. Once, we shared a pulse as Fated Mates. Once, in high school, he nearly broke a senior's jaw in the locker room just for making a crude joke about my scent. Now, I was an outsider in my own living room.
"It's fine," I managed to say. "So. You need help with the wedding?"
"Yes!" Sloane clapped her hands, stepping away from him. "We need to finalize the venue, the flowers, the rings... everything! Kaelen’s mom is breathing down my neck about traditional Alpha-Omega ceremonies. I need an ally. You’ll help us, right?"
Kaelen stared at me.
I smiled. A perfect, empty smile. "Sure. I’d love to help."
Kaelen’s expression turned to absolute ice. "Great," he spat out. "We'll be in touch."
He didn't say goodbye. He just turned on his heel and walked out, pulling Sloane out the door with him. The front lock clicked shut.
The moment they were gone, I slumped back in the wheelchair. I gasped for air.
Midnight.
I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The maximum-strength painkillers weren't working anymore. My Wolf Core pulsed with a dull, rhythmic, agonizing ache. Every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand, shattering the quiet.
I grabbed it. An unknown number flashed on the bright screen.
I answered, pressing the phone to my ear. I didn't speak. I didn't dare to breathe.
Silence on the other end. Only the sound of steady, even breathing.
"Ten o'clock tomorrow," Kaelen’s voice finally broke the silence. It was low. Gravelly. Sending painful shivers down my spine. "I’ll pick you up."
My grip on the phone tightened. Just hearing his voice in the dark... it was tearing me apart piece by piece.
Seven years ago, this was our nightly ritual. When he went out of state for his early pre-med interviews, we used to stay on the phone until sunrise. I would hide under my blankets, listening to the deep, rumbling cadence of his voice until I fell asleep. He used to tell me about his dreams, his surgical ambitions, our future house.
"Got it," I whispered.
"Don't be late," he said coldly. "Sloane hates waiting. And I hate wasting time on you."
Before I could force out a reply, a muffled sound came through the receiver.
"Kae?" Sloane’s voice echoed in the background. It was breathless. Husky. Intimate. "Are you done on the phone? Come back to bed... it's time for the real business."
My heart stopped dead in my chest.
The implication hung in the air, heavy, graphic, and suffocating.
"I'm hanging up," I blurted out in a blind panic.
I jammed my trembling finger onto the red button.
The darkness of the bedroom pressed in on me from all sides. The silence was instantly deafening.
I curled into a tight ball, burying my face in my knees. The tears came, hot and fast, soaking the bedsheets.
I knew the truth. I knew he was marrying her, that they shared a life I could never be part of.
But knowing it in my head and hearing it... hearing her claim him in the bed that should have been ours...
He completely belonged to someone else now…
