Chapter 10

Fiona's POV

"Honest?"

A noblewoman in a plunging V-neck gown beside us covered her lips with a delicate laugh, her gaze sweeping over me with undisguised contempt as she continued, "I heard that student Emily met quite a terrible fate. Is this how Professor Thorne honestly treats his beloved mistress?"

Another noblewoman chimed in, her tone dripping with mockery, "Professor Thorne's methods are remarkably smooth—nothing like the straightforward nature we wolves are known for. Rather, they bear an uncanny resemblance to those cunning human politicians."

"Lady Sophia has misunderstood." Caleb lied without so much as a flicker crossing his features, his voice carrying a nauseating veneer of false sincerity. "The Gray Wolf family has always embodied the union of civilization and strength. Isn't the very purpose of the Human-Wolf Coexistence Council to break down these kinds of misunderstandings?"

"Union of civilization and strength? Don't make me laugh," the mustachioed elder repeated, a trace of disdain flashing in his eyes. "I heard the Thorne family spared no expense to secure a cabinet position in the Coexistence Council. Not only did you promise mining rights to the northern territories, but you're also planning to relinquish the western trade routes? These are matters of hard cash and business—no need to dress them up in such grandiose language."

"Elder Greenlee, business is made, not guarded."

Caleb smiled faintly, then raised his glass, his deliberately lowered voice carrying the calculated smoothness of a merchant as he said, "As long as we secure our place in the cabinet, these concessions are merely the tip of the iceberg compared to our future dominion. I assure everyone here that once the Gray Wolf family holds power, each of you will receive your rightful share."

He stood there like the most obsequious salesman, bowing and scraping before these people, trading away his family's interests in exchange for their votes and support.

I stood beside him, watching that utterly hypocritical face, my stomach churning with nausea.

This was the man I had once loved.

This was the knight I had once believed in.

For power, he could sacrifice without hesitation the lover to whom he'd whispered sweet nothings, and he could grovel like a dog before the powerful and privileged.

And I—I was his offering to demonstrate "political correctness," a prop to showcase his "civilized union."

After several rounds of toasts, Caleb grew somewhat intoxicated with himself. He turned to look at me, his eyes carrying a hint of warning as he said, "Go get something to eat over there. Don't wander around."

I nodded obediently and turned toward the buffet table.

But I didn't take any food. I simply stood in the corner, my gaze frantically searching through the crowd.

I was looking for that silver figure—Alexander von Volkov.

It was strange; the banquet had already progressed halfway through, yet I still hadn't caught sight of him.

This was a Volkov family gala, and as the most promising heir of the youngest generation, he shouldn't be absent.

"Distracted again?" Caleb had somehow sidled up beside me once more, leaning close to whisper in my ear, his tone ice-cold. "Didn't I tell you to get some food?"

I shook my head. "I'm not very hungry yet... I was just thinking, isn't this the Volkov family's gala? How is it that I haven't seen that famous heir everyone talks about?"

"You mean Alexander von Volkov?"

Caleb let out a cold laugh. "Seems you've done quite a bit of homework."

I deliberately adopted a docile expression. "I just don't want to embarrass you."

"Listen, it's best that you have that awareness. You should be grateful your foolish actions yesterday weren't witnessed by him personally."

Caleb continued, "I heard he was attacked on his way to give a speech yesterday. No idea how badly he's injured. But we don't need to put all our chips on him alone. While he may possess the highest combat prowess, the ones who truly hold power in that family have always been the Council of Elders. He's nothing more than a war god stripped of real authority."

A war god stripped of authority?

I frowned.

If that were true, wouldn't Alexander's position be quite precarious?

Yet something felt off.

Last night in the restricted section, despite his severe injuries, that innate sense of oppression and control he exuded was absolutely not something a powerless figurehead could possess.

He should be fine, shouldn't he? If something serious had happened, the Volkov family wouldn't be continuing with such a festive banquet without showing even the slightest hint of turmoil.

"Enough, stop thinking about all that nonsense."

Caleb interrupted my thoughts. "Tonight's goal is to win over the Black Wolf family's elders. You just need to obediently go eat something over there, try to chat with those noble ladies about useless things like fashion and hairstyles, and don't cause me any trouble."

"I understand, Caleb."

With an uneasy heart, I desperately searched through the crowd for that silver figure.

As I turned, I accidentally bumped into a woman holding a champagne flute.

"Crash—"

"Damn it! My dress!"

"Ah! I'm so sorry!" I immediately apologized.

The woman wore a deep blue velvet gown, her makeup immaculate, though her eyes were filled with nothing but spite. She glanced down at her soiled hem, then looked me up and down, her lips curling into a contemptuous smile.

"Half-blood?"

Her voice was shrill and arrogant. "Of course it's an ill-bred mongrel who can't even walk properly."

"I apologize, it wasn't intentional." I apologized again.

"Not intentional?"

She laughed coldly, then suddenly raised her hand and poured the remaining half-glass of champagne directly onto my face.

"What about now? I didn't mean to either."

The icy champagne ran down my cheeks, soaking my hair and gown.

A ripple of low laughter rose from those around us.

I lifted my head, looking at her triumphant face, anger surging in my chest.

"What? Not satisfied?"

She looked me up and down, her gaze landing on my tulle gown adorned with moonstones, a trace of disdain flashing in her eyes.

"Oh, so it's Moonlight Tears? You half-blood mudblood must have spent a fortune for today's ball. What a pity—while such rare garments may be priceless treasures to your kind, in our noble pureblood families, even the maids wouldn't deign to wear them!"

"Fiona!" Caleb's voice suddenly rang out.

He strode over, his face ashen. I thought he would stand up for me, that he would put this arrogant woman in her place.

But instead, he merely looked at me with disgust before turning to the woman with an ingratiating smile. "My apologies, Miss Lesos. My fiancée doesn't know proper etiquette. I'll make sure to discipline her thoroughly when we return home."

Miss Lesos? Vivian Lesos? My heart jolted. She was the only daughter of a Black Wolf family elder, and one of the people Caleb most wanted to curry favor with tonight.

"Discipline?" Vivian laughed coldly. "Professor Thorne, your fiancée has ruined my dress. How exactly do you plan to compensate me?"

"Well..." Caleb hesitated. "I'll have someone send you a new one."

"A new one?" Vivian raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who designed this dress? This is the final masterpiece of the legendary designer Evelyn, the Nightweaver herself. There's only one in the entire world. Can you afford to replace it?"

I looked thoughtfully at Caleb. "Didn't you tell me that the gown I'm wearing was Designer Evelyn's final masterpiece?"

Caleb's face immediately turned uglier than a dirty shoe sole as he lowered his voice. "Fiona, shut up. Not another word!"