Chapter 21

[ 1,137 words ]

Author’s POV

Linda had spent her whole life humiliating others, but had never been treated the same way herself. In this moment, she felt like her world was crashing down, plunging her into deep anguish.

Through the garden archway, Linda spotted him. Brandon. Lurking near the rose bushes like some pathetic stalker, his eyes fixed on where Emilia had disappeared.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Brandon’s head whipped around. “Linda, I was just…”

“Just what?” She stormed toward him. “Just sneaking around watching my sister? Just eye-fucking the woman you supposedly got over?”

“Keep your voice down…”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Linda’s voice soared. “You came here to see her, didn’t you? You’re still in love with her!”

Brandon’s jaw clenched. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Linda snorted. “I saw how you looked at her. God, it’s pathetic.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m being observant.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t see the way you brighten whenever someone mentions her name?”

“Enough.” Brandon gripped her wrist hard. “You want to talk about pathetic? Let’s talk about how you’re throwing a tantrum because for once in your spoiled life, you didn’t get what you wanted.”

Linda wrenched her arm free. “I didn’t want Sebastian! I never…”

“Bullshit. You’re burning with jealousy. Emilia got the prize, and you can’t stand it.”

“That’s not… I don’t…” Linda’s voice wavered. She was jealous. Viciously, consumingly jealous. But she’d never admit it. “You’re changing the subject. We’re talking about your obsession with my sister.”

“There’s no obsession.” Brandon’s voice flattened. “Get over yourself, Linda.”

“Oh, I should get over myself?” She cackled. “Rich, coming from the man who can’t take his eyes off his ex-girlfriend. What’s wrong, Brandon? Regretting climbing into my bed?”

“Watch yourself.”

“Why should I?” The words spilled out now, vicious and unstoppable. “It’s true, isn’t it? Emilia is happy and successful and married to someone a thousand times better than you. You want her back.”

“That’s enough…”

“Does it kill you?” Linda pressed closer. “Knowing that Sebastian Simons touches her now? That he holds her, kisses her, fucks her…”

Brandon’s hand struck so fast she barely saw it coming.

The slap.

Linda stumbled backward, her hand flying to her burning cheek. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

“You… You hit me.”

Brandon’s expression hardened. “You needed to shut up.”

“How dare you…”

“How dare I?” Brandon barked. “Let’s talk about how you cried to your father, begging him not to send you to marry Sebastian Simons. How you were terrified of becoming his next dead wife. How you manipulated Alpha Henry into offering up Emilia instead.”

“That’s not…”

“It’s exactly what happened.” Brandon’s voice cut deep. “You wanted me. You wanted safety. You got both. And now, seeing Emilia thriving, you regret it. Don’t you?”

Linda’s chest heaved. Her cheek throbbed where he’d struck her.

“We’re done,” Linda shouted. “This engagement? This pathetic charade we’ve been playing? It’s over.”

“Linda…”

“I mean it.” She stepped back. “I’m calling it off. I’m not marrying you.”

“Go back to pining after my sister,” she finished. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

She turned and ran.

Brandon didn’t follow.

Linda charged toward Dorothy. “Are you really my biological mother?”

Dorothy’s hands stilled.

“What kind of question…”

“Because a real mother wouldn’t have let this happen!” Linda was shouting now, hysterical. “A real mother wouldn’t have stood by and watched while that… that nobody… stole everything that should have been mine!”

“Linda, lower your voice.” Dorothy darted a glance toward the dining room where Sebastian and Emilia were. “If Alpha Sebastian hears you…”

“I don’t care if he hears me!” But Linda did lower her voice. Her hands shook. “This is your fault. All of it. If you hadn’t… if you’d just supported me when I said I didn’t want to marry him…”

Dorothy hissed. “The entire pack was talking about the curse, about the dead wives. You were terrified…”

“And now look!” Linda flailed. “Emilia’s perfectly fine! More than fine! He treats her like she’s made of glass and gold. He looks at her like… like…”

She couldn’t finish. The words lodged in her throat, thick and choking.

“Now Emilia is acting all high and mighty, and she even had the nerve to humiliate me!”

“That bitch.” Dorothy’s expression twisted. “How dare she speak to you that way.”

“You don’t understand.” Linda crumpled onto the settee. “She was right, Mom. She was right. I am desperate. I do want what she has. And now… now I’m stuck with Brandon, and he doesn’t even… he hit me, Mom. He actually hit me.”

Dorothy recoiled. “He what?”

“We were fighting and I said some things and he just…” Linda touched her cheek, which was still tender. “He slapped me.”

For a moment, Dorothy looked murderous.

Then her expression shifted, calculating. “Did anyone see?”

“What? No, I don’t think… Mom, that’s not the point…”

“It’s exactly the point.” Dorothy’s mind was racing. “If we can prove he’s violent, we can break the engagement without losing face. We can…”

“I already broke it off,” Linda said dully.

Silence.

“You… what?”

“I told him we’re done. That I’m not marrying him.” Linda chuckled bitterly.

“Linda, that’s not…”

“Yes, it is.” Linda looked up, meeting her mother’s eyes.

Dorothy opened and closed her mouth. For once in her life, she seemed speechless.

From the dining room, they could hear Henry’s booming laugh, followed by Sebastian’s deeper, more reserved response.

The lunch was ready.

“Come on,” Dorothy said finally. “We need to compose ourselves. We have guests.”

“I can’t…”

“You will.” Dorothy’s grip on Linda’s arm tightened. “You will sit at that table, and you will smile, and you will show that ungrateful half-breed that she hasn’t broken you. Do you understand me?”

Linda said nothing.

But she let her mother pull her to her feet. Let herself be led toward the dining room where the table was set with the finest china, where Sebastian sat at the head like the king he was, where Emilia sat beside him looking radiant and content.

The lunch was ready. Sebastian was seated at the VIP seat, the position that should have been reserved for Linda’s future husband, she thought bitterly. Emilia sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. And directly opposite them sat the empty chair that Linda would now have to occupy.

The servants moved efficiently, setting down dish after dish. The kind of elaborate, expensive spread that Henry only broke out for the most important occasions.

Henry himself bounced with excitement, producing two bottles of aged whiskey he’d been saving for years.

“Alpha Sebastian,” Henry beamed, pouring with reverent care. “You can’t leave today without getting properly drunk with me. It’s tradition!”

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