Chapter 5

The family portrait burned into my vision, searing through my eyes, making them sting. Their family—because it had never been mine—had never included me.

I drifted home in a daze, collapsing onto the bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. Time lost meaning.

Then came the sound of a car door slamming outside, jolting me back to reality. The faint scent of leather and cologne reached my sensitive nose before the front door opened. They had returned.

The bedroom door creaked, and Joseph strode in. He moved to my bedside, bent down, and enveloped me in his arms like I was some fragile human porcelain doll.

“Wife,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m sorry. Work has kept me busy these past few days. I haven’t had time to be with you.”

I swallowed a sarcastic snort.

“The day after tomorrow is your birthday,” he continued, “I spoke with my parents, and we’ve decided to throw you a grand celebration.”

Grand. Oh, how generous. I bit my tongue, refusing to respond. His lips brushed my forehead in a lingering kiss that felt like a brand, then he tucked the blanket around me and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, a memory crashed over me.

Five years ago. My birthday.

That was the day everything changed. The day my parents announced my engagement to Joseph at a glittering pack ceremony. It was supposed to be a celebration, but Yolanda, with her endless need to be the center of attention, had turned it into chaos. Her jealousy erupted like a volcano, and by the end of the night, she’d rounded up a pack of rogue wolves to kidnap me. The bruises had faded, but the scars—physical and emotional—remained.

Yolanda and I shared a birthday. Yet every year, it was her party, her spotlight, her admirers. The guests would swarm around her, fawning over her golden curls and saccharine smile. I was the forgotten shadow lurking in the background.

And why wouldn’t they adore her? My parents had crafted her image carefully, keeping her secret—Fake Daughter—hidden from everyone. They even had the audacity to blame my awkwardness, my so-called “shelter upbringing,” for every social misstep. Meanwhile, Yolanda would sneer at me, whispering venomous remarks like, “Only I deserve this. You’re nothing but an orphan.”

She had always reveled in stealing my place.

Tonight would be no different.

I knew her too well.

When she appeared at my birthday banquet dressed as a server, her face hidden behind a mask, I wasn’t surprised. My wolf sniffed disdainfully, her contempt palpable. But my family? Oh, their reactions were priceless.

They dragged her into the guest lounge.

“What are you doing here?” my father hissed， “Are you trying to ruin everything?”

“She misses home,” my mother countered, her tone pleading. “She hasn’t been back in years. Please, let her stay.”

“She’s dressed like this anyway. Fiona won’t recognize her.”

Joseph, predictably, sided with Yolanda.

“Honey, today’s my birthday too,” Yolanda cooed, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “I want to cut the cake later.”

My wolf bristled, and I clenched my fists beneath the table.

“Alright,” Joseph agreed easily, like the spineless opportunist he was. “Since Fiona is in a wheelchair, it’s easier if you do it.”

And just like that, Yolanda stole my moment. Again. She picked up the knife with a smug grin, cut into my exclusive birthday cake, and then, as if for ridicule, sliced the chocolate statue of me in half at the waist.

A loud crash followed. She shoved the cake stand, sending it careening toward me. Gasps filled the room as the stand narrowly missed my face, the metal support scraping the floor with a grating screech.

Joseph rushed to my side, his face a mask of concern. “Wife, are you alright?”

His words were for show. We both knew he’d seen everything.

“Clumsy!” he barked at Yolanda, his performance flawless. “Get out of here.”

My parents, relieved by his outburst, quickly ordered the mess cleaned up. The banquet resumed as if nothing had happened. Joseph slipped back into his role as the perfect host, his charm as fake as Yolanda’s smiles.

I couldn’t breathe. The air felt heavy, suffocating. My wolf itched to escape, to run free under the moonlight, away from the pretense and lies. I reached for my wheelchair, ready to leave, but before I could move, a pair of hands grabbed the handles.

My wolf growled, her instincts flaring. A familiar scent reached my nose—one that sent shivers down my spine.

“Going somewhere, Fiona?” a low, mocking voice murmured.

Yolanda pushed me toward the garden, her grip firm, unyielding.

“Sister, long time no see,” she purred, every syllable dripping with smugness.

“Did you notice? When they sang the birthday song earlier, every single pair of eyes was on me.”

“So many years have passed, and yet they still love me more than you.”

“You should’ve just stayed an orphan,” she sneered. “Why did you come back, trying to compete with me? Look at you now—crippled, stuck with a husband who was never yours to begin with. If I were you, I wouldn’t even have the dignity to live another day.”

I lifted my head, meeting her gaze without flinching.

“The only one who should be ashamed is you.” My voice was calm, but every word struck like a knife.