Chapter 2

The next morning, I came downstairs to find Amanda perched on the living room sofa as if she owned the place.

Victor saw me and immediately, almost imperceptibly, shifted away from her. "Freya, you're awake?"

"There's a big shareholders' meeting today, so Amanda came by early to pick me up," he explained, his tone laced with a forced casualness.

I said nothing, just watched them in silence.

"Let's have breakfast, Freya!" Victor turned to the kitchen, emerging with a plate of golden-brown waffles.

He offered, his gaze drifting toward Amanda. "You haven't eaten, have you, Amanda? Why don't you join us."

At the breakfast table, they kept exchanging loaded glances, their lips curved in knowing smiles.

I kept my head down as I ate, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.

After breakfast, I stood to clear the dishes, but Amanda suddenly rushed forward. "I'll get it!"

She snatched the cup from my hand. In the clumsy exchange, it slipped, shattering on the floor and sending shards of ceramic flying.

A sharp sting sliced across my wrist, a line of blood instantly welling up.

"Oh my god!" Amanda shrieked dramatically.

Victor lunged toward her, instinctively snatching her hand to inspect a non-existent cut. A second later, as if remembering I was there, he dropped her hand and shot me a guilty look.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat and hastily changing the subject. "The charity concert tonight... I'll see you there. I have to get to the office."

Watching their retreating figures, I stood frozen, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touching my lips.

Back in my room, I located the fake mark on my nape and scrubbed it off with a special solvent until my skin was raw.

I dug out all the cheap gifts he’d given me over the years—plastic hair clips from Claire’s, a discounted alloy necklace from Target—and dumped them into the trash.

Truthfully, I should have realized it sooner.

His Ironridge Group was clearly thriving, yet he always pleaded poverty to me. It wasn't that the company was struggling; it was that all his money was being spent on another woman.

Wiping the tears from my face, I dialed the number I hadn't touched in five years.

"In five days, make me disappear."

That evening, the charity performance at the Seattle Symphony Hall took place as scheduled. I sat in the concertmaster’s chair, playing alongside the pups from the local pack school.

As applause thundered through the hall, I glanced into the crowd and my breath hitched. Victor and Amanda were sitting together, their fingers intertwined. As the performance concluded, Victor led Amanda onto the stage to present awards to the little ones.

Just as they were smiling for a group photo, a sudden, jarring groan echoed from overhead.

"Look out—!"

I looked up and saw the massive stage lighting rig shaking violently. The next second, it came crashing down.

I lunged toward the nearest child, shielding the pup with my body and taking the full force of the falling rig across my back. As a searing pain shot through me, I heard Amanda's shrill scream.

Through my blurring vision, I saw Victor holding Amanda tightly, shielding her in his arms.

He glanced frantically in my direction, but Amanda suddenly cried out, "Ah! I scraped my leg! It hurts so much!"

Victor froze.

My world went black.

When I woke up, I was in a regular ward at UW Medicine.

Outside the door, a few nurses were gossiping excitedly.

"Oh my god, the CEO of the Ironridge Group is so handsome! His girlfriend only got a little scrape, and he booked the entire VIP floor for her!"

"And I heard the tests came back—she's pregnant!"

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, dragging my pain-racked body out of bed to get my medication.

Just around the corner, I froze. Victor was walking out of the obstetrics and gynecology clinic, his arm wrapped protectively around Amanda. She pressed her entire body against his, her voice syrupy sweet.

"Alpha, do you prefer a boy or a girl?"