Chapter 4

I was determined to leave this place. But before I did, I had to take back the collection of design sketches I’d created—the series inspired by Nina.

Returning to the show, I had only one goal.

The fashion show seemed to have resumed, but I paid it no mind, heading straight backstage for those design sketches.

Bystanders saw what I was doing and called for security, threatening to report me to the police.

"I can't believe it. In this day and age, someone would just brazenly steal something in public!"

"That she-wolf has to be insane..."

Hearing their words, I screamed at them, my eyes bloodshot with fury.

"I'm not a thief! I drew these!"

But the person just sneered.

"This is Ms. Monica Blackwood's debut show. You're at her show, claiming her designs are yours? You must be joking."

Hearing the commotion, Monica appeared.

She put on a mask of wounded innocence, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

"Irene, I've turned a blind eye again and again while you've taken my designs and passed them off as your own, and only because you're Richard's mate. But I see things clearly now. I have to do this for your own good. I must persuade you to turn back before it's too late!"

Her words were my conviction. The crowd praised Monica for her "kindness," then turned on me with a torrent of abuse. "A plagiarist! Just drop dead, you thieving bitch! I hope your whole family dies!"

Every single design in this collection was mine. I drew them stroke by stroke, staying up through countless sleepless nights. How could they possibly be Monica's?

And what I was trying to take was the pups's clothing line I designed for Nina—for my own pup. I couldn't even take my own design sketches.

Just when I was all alone and helpless, Richard emerged from the crowd and walked toward me.

"Richard Blackwood, say something!"

I stared at him, my eyes locked on his, but he said...

"These designs were, indeed, created by Monica. Even though Irene is my mate, I cannot show favoritism, nor can I enable her to continue down this wrong path."

The reputation and prestige I had built with my own blood, sweat, and tears over the years were destroyed in an instant by that single sentence.

But he wasn't finished. He had to twist the knife.

"After all, only someone with a true artistic soul like Monica could create works of this caliber."

There were a lot of media outlets there, and as soon as he said that, all eyes were on me.

"That's more like it. Ms. Monica has the talent of an angel. How could a she-wolf who only got where she is because of her Alpha possibly design anything good."

"A she-wolf like that is pure venom. Her Alpha will abandon her for sure, just watch."

The crowd snickered, pointing their fingers at me.

Richard looked embarrassed as he leaned in to whisper words of comfort.

"I don't want Monica's image to be ruined in front of Mike, so please, just put up with this for me, okay? I'll take you and Nina to Orlando tomorrow, how does that sound?"

The predatory media had already swarmed between us, and I could no longer hear the rest of what he was saying.

The reporters frantically hurled questions at me as they surged forward.

I stumbled backward, then fell hard onto the ground. Their feet began to trample my body as if they'd gone mad.

All the while, they were shouting, "Where is she? Where did she go?"

Richard saw what was happening, his brows knitting together tightly. He made a move to drive the media away and pull me to my feet.

But at that exact moment, Monica gave Mike another meaningful look.

Sure enough, the pup’s cries once again captured Richard's attention.

It made him forget all about me instantly.

I closed my eyes in despair, my breathing growing faint.

"Everyone, stop!"

Just then, the Alpha of the Rivermoon Pack—Liam Rivermoon—burst in with a group of bodyguards. He was still holding a funeral portrait in his hand.

It was Nina's.

At the sight of Liam and that funeral portrait, Richard's pupils shrank to pinpricks.