Chapter 159

[ 1,117 words ]

Author’s POV

After Emilia finally stopped crying, a figure stepped out of a nearby alley. The man held his camera, pleased with the footage. Then he melted into the afternoon crowd.

Across town, in a fancy café, Linda Taylor sat in a corner booth. When the man slid into the seat across from her and pushed a USB drive her way, she grabbed it and plugged it into her laptop.

The video played. Emilia’s tear-stained face filled the screen, her voice cracking as she confessed.

Linda smiled. “This is perfect,” she said softly. She pulled a thick envelope from her bag. “You earned every penny.”

The man pocketed the cash and left. Linda watched the video on a loop, her eyes bright and mean. She’d learned her lesson last time. No more face-to-face fights. This time, she’d let the evidence do the talking.

She pulled out her phone and started the upload. Instead of sending it straight to Sebastian, she’d send it to the Simons’ pack house from an anonymous account. Let his precious family see what kind of woman their beloved Luna really was.

“Let’s see you talk your way out of this one, little sister,” she murmured as she hit send.

Saturday afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the Simons’ mansion as Tiffany burst through the front door, gym bag over one shoulder.

Mila looked up from her book. “Tiffany? I thought you were out with your friends.”

“I played basketball all morning. I’m wiped.” Tiffany dropped onto the sofa. “I need food and air conditioning, not necessarily in that order.”

Her mother set down her book. “Shouldn’t you be job hunting? You graduate this year.”

“Mom, please. No self-respecting senior spends her Saturday sending out résumés.”

“Emilia works on weekends,” Mila said mildly.

“That’s different. Emilia’s got a real job.” Tiffany waved a hand. “I’m still a student. I don’t have to pretend to be productive yet.”

Mila frowned. “So your plan after graduation is to sit around eating bonbons?”

“With our family money, I could eat bonbons for three lifetimes,” Tiffany shot back with a grin. “So yeah. Professionally unemployed.”

“If you had half of Emilia’s work ethic, I could die happy,” Mila sighed.

“Then I’d better stay lazy, because I want you to stick around. Checkmate, Mom.”

Mila stood and shook her head. “I’m taking a nap. At least in my dreams I have kids who listen.”

“Now that’s the spirit!” Tiffany called after her.

Once her mother was upstairs, Tiffany was alone. She pulled out her phone, but even that couldn’t hold her attention. She was about to raid the kitchen when a guard appeared in the doorway.

“Miss Tiffany, there’s a package for Alpha Sebastian. It needs a signature. Should I—”

“Just sign for it and bring it in,” Tiffany said. “Sebastian’s not here anyway.”

The guard returned with a package wrapped in so much tape it looked like someone was guarding nuclear launch codes.

Two hours later, her phone died. She stretched, and her eyes landed on the package.

“What did somebody send my brother that needs this much wrapping?” she muttered, picking it up. It was really light.

She glanced around. Still alone. She grabbed scissors from the desk drawer.

“It’s probably just boring business papers,” she said, cutting through layer after layer of tape.

When she finally got through the wrapping, there was just a single DVD inside, no label, in a plain case.

Tiffany held it up to the light, disappointed. “All that wrapping for a DVD? What is this, 2005?”

She tossed it back on the table and went to the kitchen, coming back with an apple. Still bored, she eyed the old DVD player her father refused to throw out, and shrugged.

“Might as well see what boring presentation this is,” she said, sliding the disc in.

The screen flickered on.

What played next made the apple fall from her hand and roll across the floor.

“No,” Tiffany whispered. “No, no, no…”

She lunged for the player and yanked the disc out, her hands shaking. She stood in the middle of the living room, holding the DVD like a live grenade.

This would destroy Sebastian. If he saw it, if he believed it, it would break him. Everything he’d built with Emilia, every fragile bit of trust he’d rebuilt after Abigail’s betrayal, would fall apart.

And what if it was true?

“Tiffany?”

She jumped. Her father, Titus, stood in the doorway, watching her.

“Dad! I didn’t hear you come in.”

He frowned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong.” She forced a smile. “Welcome home. I’ll make you some tea.”

She ran to the kitchen, the DVD still in her hand.

When she brought the tea back, Titus took one sip and spat it right back.

“Are you trying to burn me? This is boiling!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll make another…”

“Forget it.” He waved her off and sat down. His sharp eyes landed on the DVD still in her hand.

“What’s that?” he asked, reaching for it.

“Nothing!” Tiffany jerked it away.

“Let me see it.”

“No, it’s—”

He stood and moved toward her with the stern look that meant he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Tiffany’s mind went blank. On pure instinct, she snapped the DVD in half with both hands.

The crack echoed through the room.

“It’s broken now,” she said fast, her voice too high. “So there’s no point—”

“You what?!” Titus’s face went red. “That could’ve been important! What is wrong with you today?”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Half your allowance. Gone. For the next month. Maybe that’ll teach you some respect.”

Tiffany nodded and said nothing, still holding the broken pieces.

That evening, the Simons family sat down to dinner as usual. The dining room was warm and elegant, but the mood was off.

Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his face unreadable. Mila made small talk about pack business, and Titus grunted now and then. But Tiffany, usually the loudest one at any meal, said nothing at all.

After fifteen minutes of strange silence, Mila finally set down her fork.

“Okay, what’s wrong with everyone tonight?” she asked. “Sebastian looks like he’s planning a murder, and Tiffany hasn’t said one word. Did somebody die?”

Everyone looked at Tiffany.

She blinked. “Why are you all staring at me? I’m allowed to be quiet sometimes. It’s called personal growth.”

“The day you’re quiet on purpose is the day pigs fly,” Titus said dryly. He turned to the table. “She broke a DVD this afternoon. Snapped it in half right in front of me, then acted like she’d committed a felony.”

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