4#04

4

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized my face, as if solving a riddle.

"I've wanted to mention this since our first encounter—don't you find our resemblance uncanny, dear sister?" she remarked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

A wave of astonishment washed over me, leaving me breathless. I couldn't help but glance at the nearby looking glass, comparing our features. The similarities were unmistakable — identical hair, matching eyes, even the same jawline.

Shame and anger churned within me. It had always been painful to know I was merely a replacement in Damien's life. But realizing I had been molded to resemble Kaia, the true object of his desire, shattered something fundamental inside me.

Beneath her victorious stare, I felt my composure crumble. My inner wolf stirred restlessly, sensing my unease. Unable to endure her presence any longer, I hastily retreated.

Back in the private dining area, the warmth of my coworkers gradually thawed my chilled spirit. Their mirth and kind words nearly made me forget Kaia's cruel jibe. But just as I began to push the encounter from my mind, the door burst open with a resounding bang.

Damien appeared, his eyes sweeping the room until they found mine. He stood motionless for a moment, his face a mask of barely contained rage. Without a word, he clenched his fists and barked my name, ordering me to follow him outside.

Perplexed, I complied, only to be met with a stinging blow across my face in the dimly lit hallway.

It was the first time he had ever struck me.

I gazed at him, shock and pain coursing through my body. But his eyes held no remorse, no regret—only unbridled fury.

"Why did you shove Kaia?" he snarled. "You knew about her injured ankle! I told you I'd explain everything later, but you couldn't wait, could you?"

The sting of his words cut as deeply as the slap.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Kaia limping towards us. Her clothes were disheveled and stained, her movements exaggeratedly slow and pitiful. As I opened my mouth to defend myself, she suddenly stumbled and collapsed with an overdramatic cry.

Damien immediately rushed past me to reach her, gently cradling her quivering form. His touch was gentle, his voice filled with worry.

"I said I'd bring her to apologize," he told Kaia. "Why did you leave the room?"

Kaia shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "It's not important. She didn't intend to harm me. Don't be too harsh on her," she murmured, her words a pretense of mercy.

Her gaze flickered towards me, but her tone softened as she added, "If her brother discovers you struck her, it might jeopardize the alliance between you two."

At the mention of my brother, Kirst, Damien's expression wavered momentarily, but his resolve quickly returned.

"Her brother entrusted her to my care," he stated firmly. "It's my duty to discipline her when she misbehaves."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips before I could suppress it. "Misbehave? What exactly did I do wrong, Damien? Even in a pack trial, evidence is required before judgment. Yet here you are, condemning me without proof. Is this how you govern your pack?"

His jaw clenched, his fists tightened. "There were no cameras in the restroom, Thalia. You knew that and thought you could escape consequences."

I stared at him, astounded by his blind faith. "No cameras?" I scoffed. "Then how can you be so certain it was me?"

"Why would Kaia fabricate such a story?" he snapped. "She's not that type of person."

"And I am?" My voice quavered with the pain of betrayal.

Seven years. For seven years I had stood beside Damien, through every challenge and victory. Yet faced with Kaia's tears, all those years meant nothing. Her word alone outweighed everything we had built together.

Realizing the futility of further argument, I turned away. "Believe what you will," I muttered, my voice devoid of emotion.

Damien's enraged voice followed me as I walked away, commanding me to stay. But I didn't look back. The mark of his slap still stung on my cheek, a harsh reminder of my position in his world.

Rejoining the dining room was not an option. I didn't want to spoil the atmosphere for my colleagues, who had shown me nothing but kindness. Instead, I approached the reception desk, paid the bill, and sent them a message:

"An urgent matter has arisen. Please enjoy the meal and drinks—it's my treat."

With that, I departed, the burden of the evening weighing heavily upon me.