Chapter 353

Vivienne

I pull on my underwear, and there she is—my wife, eyes like a hawk zeroing in on my stomach.

It’s still just a tiny swell. Barely noticeable unless you’re looking. But she’s always looking.

She does this often. Stares at my midsection like she’s trying to memorize the shape of it, like she’s waiting for it to disappear, like she’s in denial that this has actually happened.

It’s almost hilarious.

I’ve never been happier in my life.

She’s also overbearing. Overprotective. She hovers when I walk up stairs, carries things before I can reach for them, glares at anyone who comes too close. It should be annoying.

It’s cute.

"You’re staring again," I say, pulling my dress over my head.

"I’m admiring." She doesn’t look away.

"Same thing."

"Different intentions."

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. I can’t help it.

Today is the press conference. The one where Damien will announce his "accidental mating" to Alexander.

The one where I have to stand beside my wife and pretend to be heartbroken by a man I never loved.

I sigh.

We can’t go public with our relationship yet. Not until after I have the child, at least. After this press conference, I’ll go off the grid—disappear to the cottage, wait out the pregnancy, and then we’ll tell the world.

I look at Daphne. She’s still eyeing my midsection, even though I’ve covered it with a shirt now. I giggle, all giddy.

*

The conference is quite the performance.

We’re all in tears—or pretending to be. I lean against Daphne, unable to "hold back my tears." She holds me close, her hand on my back, her face the picture of sisterly concern.

Damien makes a public show of bowing to the crowd, his face etched with remorse. Alexander makes a show of begging for my forgiveness, his voice trembling, his eyes wet.

I tell him it’s not his fault.

The cameras are blinding.

Flash after flash, capturing every angle, every tear, every carefully staged moment. I catch glimpses of Olga in the front row, her face unreadable.

Daphne’s hand squeezes mine.

"Almost over," she murmurs, barely moving her lips.

I nod, dabbing my eyes with a handkerchief.

Damien finishes his speech. Alexander bows again. The crowd applauds—some genuinely moved, others just playing their part.

And me?

I stand beside my wife, pretending to mourn a future I never wanted, and count the minutes until we can go home.

Our home.

***

Elliot

I draw blood from my palms, my nails digging in deep enough to hurt. The crowd presses around me—strangers, reporters, curious onlookers all of them watching the spectacle on the makeshift stage.

My brother rubs my shoulder. A small, comforting gesture. He thinks I’m heartbroken over Damien.

He’s wrong.

My eyes zero in on another pair on that stage.

Daphne.

Standing beside Vivienne. Her hand on the small of Vivienne’s back. Her face the picture of sisterly concern, of support, of innocence.

I know the truth.

I’ve never felt such murderous rage in my life.

I’m watching her.

The way she holds Vivienne close. The way her thumb moves in small circles on Vivienne’s back. The way she looks at her when she thinks no one is watching.

She married her.

The thought is a knife in my chest.Twisting.

I want to scream. I want to shove through the crowd, grab the microphone, and tell everyone the truth. That this is all a lie. That Damien isn’t the villain and Vivienne isn’t the victim.

That Daphne—Daphne—is married to her. That they’ve been sneaking around for months.

But I don’t know how she would react to that outburst.

Would she deny it? Would she destroy me? Would she smile that cold, untouchable smile and make the world believe I’m the liar?

I watch through bloodshot eyes.

That should be me.

In her arms.

Me.

Not Vivienne. Not the perfect, pretty, flawless woman who somehow convinced Daphne she was worth choosing.

Gary’s hand finds my shoulder again. "Ellie. You’re shaking."

I don’t answer. I can’t.

On stage, Vivienne dabs her eyes. Daphne’s hand presses against her back. They look like sisters. They look like family.

No one knows.

No one sees what I see.

The way Daphne’s fingers curl just slightly, like she’s holding back from touching more. The way Vivienne leans into her, just barely, like she can’t help herself.

That should be me.

The thought is poison.

I drink it anyway.

What did she do to deserve this? 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Born into a good family. Picture-perfect. Never wanted for anything. Never had to fight for survival. Never had to spread her legs just to keep a roof over her brother’s head.

How greedy.

I’ve gone through hell my whole life. My mother’s death. The foster homes. The Alphas who thought they could buy me, use me, throw me away. The nights I went hungry so Gary could eat. The days I smiled through pain I thought would kill me.

I deserve an Alpha like Daphne Han.

I deserve a nice Alpha. One who respects me. One who doesn’t just want my body. One who looks at me like I’m a person, not a transaction.

I deserve her.

Not Vivienne.

Me.

Gary tugs my sleeve. "Ellie. Let’s go. Please."

I don’t move.

On stage, the press conference is ending. Cameras flash. Reporters shout questions. Damien and Alexander pose for photos. Vivienne wipes her eyes one last time.

And Daphne—

Daphne looks directly at me.

For one heartbeat, the mask slips. I see something in her eyes. Not pity. Not guilt. Something colder.

A warning.

It’s okay. She’s just acting like this because she hasn’t given me—given us—a chance. Once she sees how good I can be, how devoted, how perfect, she’ll change her mind.

She has to.

"Ellie." Gary’s voice is sharper now. He’s gripping my arm, pulling me through the crowd. "We need to go."

I let him pull me away.

It’s okay.

As long as she’s not around—as long as Vivienne isn’t there, clinging to her, taking what should be mine—Daphne will have to look at me.