Chapter 3

Luna EVELYN gazed into Maxwell's eyes as he held her face, their foreheads touching. He locked eyes with her and murmured, "Please, my Luna. For the Folklore Pack. For our people. For me."

He only let go after she gave a faint nod. His grin grew as she reluctantly raised the pen above the document. The moment she began to sign, his smile turned victorious.

Her wolf cried out in anguish, its wails reverberating in her mind, but her body and heart remained outwardly stoic.

She felt empty, stifled by his dominance.

"Well done," Maxwell said, his voice laden with contentment. He grabbed the signed papers and the golden pen from her grasp and exited the room without another word.

He had achieved his goal, and she knew instinctively that she would bear the brunt of this choice.

Time passed in a haze of sameness. She concealed her anguish beneath a veneer of normalcy until one day, four pack guards approached her as she strolled through the packhouse gardens.

"Luna EVELYN, the Alpha requests your presence at the Folklore Basilica. Please allow us to accompany you."

Their expressions were impassive, their tones even, but something in their bearing set her on edge.

She frowned, puzzled. "The Folklore Basilica? Is there a significant event happening?"

One guard, maintaining his composed demeanor, answered, "We're not entirely certain, Luna. However, the Alpha has summoned all pack members as well."

Still perplexed, she nodded, deciding to follow their lead.

As they entered the grand hall of the Folklore Basilica, the scene before her made her pause. Her breath caught as she surveyed the surroundings. The entire space was festooned with fresh white and pink blossoms. A spotless white carpet ran down the center aisle, leading to a platform where a magnificent silver throne stood prominently.

What's happening?

The lavishness of the decorations surpassed—no, eclipsed—that of their mating ceremony.

What—or who—is all this for?

With myriad questions swirling in her mind, she took her assigned seat at the front of the grand hall, anxiously awaiting whatever was about to unfold.

Soon after, Alpha Maxwell appeared, striding confidently onto the stage. He addressed the pack with his typical charisma.

Midway through his speech, his eyes met hers, and she tensed under his gaze.

"Everyone knows how hard the Luna and I have tried to conceive a male pup," he began. "But after four years, Luna EVELYN only managed to bear females. I started to suspect there might be an issue with her body, so we decided to stop trying."

Why did he have to say that?

The weight of everyone's critical stares seared into her, compelling her to lower her head.

"A few days ago," Maxwell continued, "I asked the Luna to sign an agreement to explore another method of securing an heir for the Folklore Pack. That decision brings us to this moment today." He paused, his tone growing more deliberate. "Everyone, I need your attention focused at the end of the long aisle."

His words made her look up, her breath catching as she followed the direction of his gaze.

A white horse-drawn carriage began its slow procession down the aisle. When it finally halted at the stage, the driver descended and opened the door, extending a hand to the figure inside.

Maxwell approached the carriage, his movements calculated and theatrical. He gently took the woman's hand as she alighted.

He guided her to the silver throne, and as she ascended the stage, the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. She wore an opulent purple gown that glimmered under the lights, every detail exuding wealth and importance. Her face, however, was obscured behind a mask adorned with jade and diamonds, completely concealing her identity.

The heir surrogate. Is this her?

The thought sent a chill through her.

But if she was, why go to such lengths? Why this grand spectacle, as if she were some queen being crowned? Was it truly necessary to introduce her to the pack with such pomp?

Something felt amiss.

Maxwell's voice cut through. "Everyone, this is the Olivia Lady, and she will serve as the Folklore Pack's heir surrogate."

Murmurs erupted throughout the hall.

Maxwell proceeded. "She will be our final recourse to ensure the continuation of our pack's legacy, using her own fluids and mine to conceive the heir we so desperately need. Her identity will remain a mystery to all, and she will wear this mask for the duration of her stay here."

Luna EVELYN clenched her fists under the table, anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Our pack needs her," Maxwell declared. "And I expect every one of you to show her the same respect you show me and your Luna."

The applause for the Olivia Lady was tentative at first, but it eventually swelled into a reluctant chorus. No one, not even the elders, dared to challenge Maxwell's decision.

"Luna EVELYN, please come and join us here," Maxwell suddenly announced. She wanted to remain seated, to defy him, but she couldn't. So, she forced herself to stand.

Her heart was no longer numb. She could fully feel the pain of the situation. She wanted to weep, but she forced herself to maintain composure, believing it was her fault. This wouldn't have happened if only she could've given Maxwell an heir.

When she finally reached the stage, she took her place beside the Olivia Lady. Her eyes were drawn to her, despite her efforts to avoid looking at her for too long. Something about her presence commanded her attention.

Her heart raced as their eyes met.

Ocean blue, piercing and familiar.

She blinked, then stared again, searching for confirmation. Beneath the ornate mask, her identity remained hidden, but those eyes... She couldn't ignore them.

They were identical to Lady Sophia Hamilton's—the princess of the Everdale Pack. Maxwell's first love.