Chapter 8 Leah's Stake Laid Bare

Leah's composure shattered completely.

She never imagined that a simple blessing would provoke such harsh interrogation.

Ethan's gaze was ice-cold, as if he were watching a normally docile, obedient subordinate suddenly rebel. The hurt and resentment she couldn't hide in her eyes struck him as particularly offensive—a challenge to his authority.

"I meant no harm." The smile on Leah's face was barely holding. Her voice carried a note of forced restraint. "I was being sincere. Three years was more than enough time for me to see the truth clearly. I was never in your heart—only Chloe. Now that she's back and you're getting married, I'm offering my congratulations. What's wrong with that?"

"You—" Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed. His tone carried absolute certainty. "You're full of resentment. You think these three years were wasted, that you've been wronged, and now you're putting on this magnanimous act just to make me feel guilty."

Everyone at the table fell silent. Chloe bit her lip, glancing back and forth between them, her eyes misting over with a thin layer of tears—the picture of fragile innocence frightened by their confrontation.

"Ethan." She tugged gently at his sleeve, her voice soft and pleading. "That's not what Leah meant. She really is wishing us well."

"Don't defend her." Ethan instinctively shook off her hand. When he met Chloe's reddened, wounded eyes, he froze mid-motion, his tone softening slightly. "I'm not snapping at you."

Chloe lowered her head without another word, tears pooling in her eyes.

Ethan drew a deep breath, forcing down the aggression simmering in his chest. He turned back to Leah, his chest still rising and falling with impatience.

Her calm, detached demeanor only irritated him more.

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, his tone carrying the condescension of someone offering charity. "You're not completely useless. At least you're good at taking care of people and handling details."

Leah's heart jolted. She had no idea where he was going with this.

"Stay and work for me." Ethan's voice was flat, as if he were bestowing some tremendous favor. "You've spent three years at the Rourke Pack. You know all my habits. I'm getting married soon, and I need someone competent nearby. If you really mean it when you say you're happy for us, then prove it with action—stay and be my personal nursemaid."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Leah snapped. "I took care of you because I wanted to. Do you honestly think I was born to wait on you?"

"What else would you do?" A flicker of confusion crossed Ethan's eyes, as if her resistance were absurd. "Besides this, what are you capable of? I'm willing to keep you around and pay you generously. That's more than generous."

Leah looked him in the eye. "I have other plans. If what you want is to employ a nursemaid, seek out others interested in the role."

"That's settled, then," Ethan declared, steamrolling over her as usual. "Come straight to the Rourke Pack tomorrow and check in with the steward."

Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance to the plaza.

"Well, well. What a lively scene. The Sinclair Pack throws this grand celebration, and I don't even get an invitation? That's hardly friendly."

Every guest turned to look.

A lean, lanky man strode past the flower-adorned columns flanking the red carpet, walking toward the head table as if he owned the place.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Anyone of importance in the pack recognized him—Lancelot Pierce, chief apothecary of the Oakwood Guild and the most famous lone wolf in all of Shadowpine.

Lone wolves had no fixed pack, no allegiance to any territory. They didn't serve any Alpha, relying solely on their own skills as they moved between territories. Every pack regarded them with a mix of caution and wariness. They were either exiles who'd broken pack law, or individuals so skilled they had no need to bow to any authority. Lancelot was clearly the latter.

Marcus's expression darkened. He rose quickly, stepping forward. "Mr. Pierce, this is a private family gathering. We didn't extend invitations outside the pack."

"Private?" Lancelot laughed lightly, his tone teasing. "That's a bit cold, don't you think? I heard the Sinclair Pack was throwing a big celebration welcoming someone home. Are you telling me I don't even rate a glass of wine, after all our years doing business together?"

As he spoke, his gaze swept the room before landing precisely on Leah.

"Oh." Lancelot raised an eyebrow, a lock of hair falling across one eye. "Leah. There you are. I've been looking for you for days. The guild's got a stack of documents waiting for your review and signature."

The head table fell into stunned silence.

Ethan's hand froze mid-lift, his amber eyes flashing with confusion.

"Mr. Pierce." Marcus's voice dropped, carrying an unmistakable warning. "What are you talking about? What documents? Leah is just a junior member of the pack. Why would she be handling guild business?"

Lancelot planted his hands on his hips, surveying the assembled guests. His voice rang out clearly. "You mean the Sinclair Pack doesn't know? Leah is a registered shareholder in the Oakwood Guild. Every quarter's trade profit statements require her personal review and signature. These documents have been sitting for half a month now. Without her confirmation, the guild's accounting department can't close the books."

That single statement upended the entire atmosphere.

Several of the pack elders exchanged startled glances. Guests whispered to one another, faces filled with shock.

Chloe's smile vanished completely. She stared at Leah in disbelief, jealousy and resentment churning in her eyes.

Even Leah herself hadn't expected Lancelot to show up at this exact moment.

She looked up to find Lancelot giving her a subtle wink. His amber eyes gleamed mischievously beneath his tousled hair, clearly relishing the chaos he'd just caused.

Ethan slowly set down his wine glass, his scrutinizing, suspicious gaze locked on Leah. "What shareholder? When did you get involved with the Oakwood Guild?"

Before Leah could respond, Marcus cut in sharply, his tone both severe and certain. "Mr. Pierce, you must be mistaken. Leah has lived at the Sinclair Territory since childhood. She's never conducted any outside business. How could she possibly be a shareholder? Those herbal formulas she has came from the Sinclair Pack's ancestral records. She's a junior member who stole family resources to trade with outsiders. That's theft of pack secrets!"