Page 5

Olivia

Wow. Just… wow.

The mansion loomed ahead of us like something out of a glossy magazine—tall, elegant, and dripping with old-money charm. White columns framed the entrance, the massive arched windows glowing with warm, golden light, and the perfectly manicured gardens stretched out like a scene from a fairytale. A valet stepped forward as we pulled up, giving Sophie a polite nod and taking the car with a smooth, practiced ease.

I climbed out, craning my neck to take it all in. “Okay, so Karl’s family is not just rich. They’re rich-rich. Sophie, you did well for yourself.”

Sophie laughed, looping her arm through mine as she guided me up the wide stone steps. “It’s not about the money, Liv.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt,” I muttered, glancing down at myself—my worn black jeans, scuffed boots, and a faded t-shirt that had seen better days. I felt like a stray cat wandering into a gala.

“I feel like a walking fashion disaster,” I groaned. “This place is like a palace, and I’m about to strut in like I’m on my way to a rock concert.”

Sophie’s smile never wavered. “If you want, I can lend you a shirt. Or… a dress?”

“A shirt’s fine. Something not advertising my questionable taste in music.”

She laughed, her fingers squeezing my arm gently as she led me through the grand foyer—marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystal, the kind of place where even the air smelled expensive.

Sophie’s and Karl’s room was on the second floor, and I tried not to let my jaw drop when she led me inside. High, vaulted ceilings, a massive four-poster bed draped in rich emerald green sheets, and thick, elegant curtains framing tall windows that looked out over the glowing gardens. The furniture was a mix of old-world luxury and modern sleekness—carved wood, dark leather, and polished glass.

“Seriously, Soph, are you sure you didn’t marry a prince?” I quipped, trailing after her as she crossed the room to a set of double doors that led to a walk-in closet the size of my old apartment.

“This isn’t even the master suite,” Sophie replied, a hint of embarrassment in her tone. “But it’s cozy. I love it.”

“Cozy,” I muttered, brushing my fingers over a rack of designer shirts that probably cost more than my rent.

Sophie rifled through the hangers, finally pulling out a sleek black dress. Simple, elegant, the kind of thing you could wear to a fancy dinner without looking overdressed.

I raised an eyebrow. “Sophie, that’s not a shirt.”

“It’s just… it’s nice,” she admitted, holding it out with a hopeful smile.

“Nice? It’s ‘I’m the rich aunt at the family wedding’ nice. What are you—” I stopped, something in her expression making my stomach twist. “Sophie. What did you do?”

Her smile wavered, and she glanced down at the dress, her fingers twisting the silky fabric nervously. “I, um… I invited Mom.”

A cold wave washed over me, and I stepped back like the dress was a snake. “You invited Lena? And you waited until zero hour to tell me?”

“Liv, please.” Sophie’s voice was soft, pleading. “She’s still our mom. I thought… maybe this could be a chance to fix things. To… to have a fresh start.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “A fresh start? That’s what you think this is? Sophie, she and I don’t have ‘fresh starts.’ We have cold wars.”

“She wants to see you. I know she does.”

“No. She wants to see you. I’m just the extra baggage she’ll have to tolerate to get to her perfect Omega daughter.”

“Liv…” Sophie’s eyes were wide, her expression desperate. “Please. Just for tonight. Put on the dress, come downstairs, and let’s have a nice dinner. It can be your mating gift to me.”

“I already got you a gift,” I muttered, arms crossed tight over my chest. “It’s sitting in a nice little box with a bow on top—an air fryer.”

Sophie’s laugh was a mix of relief and nerves. “And I love it. But please, Liv… please do this for me.”

I looked at her, her big, hopeful eyes shining in the warm glow of the closet. Damn it. Sophie had always been my kryptonite.

“Fine,” I grumbled, snatching the dress from her hands. “But if she starts another ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ lecture, I’m chugging the first bottle of wine I can find.”

Sophie’s smile returned, her arms wrapping around me in a tight hug. “Thank you. I promise, it’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Somehow, I doubted that. But I let her think she’d won, because if anyone deserved a perfect night, it was Sophie. Even if I had to suffer through it.

I held the black dress up in front of me, letting the soft, silky fabric catch the warm light of the closet. It was beautiful—elegant, classy… and not me. Not even close.

“I need something else,” I muttered, letting the dress droop in my hands. “Something more suited to my taste.”

Sophie’s forehead wrinkled, genuine confusion in her wide eyes. “But it’s black.”

“I wear other colors, you know.”

“Really?” Sophie’s voice was a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Because I’ve seen your wardrobe, and except for a few white socks, I don’t recall anything else.”

“I… I have a green scarf,” I mumbled, already feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

“Oh, a scarf. Very colorful. I stand corrected.” Sophie’s laughter was light, and it melted some of the tension in my chest.

“Okay, Miss Fashion Police. Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

Sophie stepped aside, her fingers dancing over the racks of neatly organized dresses, blouses, and skirts—an explosion of soft pastels, elegant blues, and shimmering silvers. I let my fingers brush across the fabrics, trying to ignore the little voice in my head that whispered I didn’t belong here.

Eventually, I settled on a dark emerald green dress—soft, with delicate lace sleeves and a subtle shimmer that caught the light. It was elegant without being too much, classy without turning me into someone else.

Sophie beamed, her eyes practically sparkling. “That’s perfect. Oh, and these.”

She reached for a small jewelry box and pulled out a set of white pearls—delicate, glowing against the soft velvet lining. She stepped behind me, gently fastening them around my neck.

I stared at my reflection, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. The dark green dress hugged my figure in all the right ways, the pearls a soft, elegant touch against my collarbone. My hair fell in loose waves, and Sophie had even dusted a little bit of makeup over my cheeks and eyes, just enough to make me look like I belonged in a place like this.

“I… I can’t remember the last time I looked this nice,” I whispered, my fingers brushing against the pearls. “Or this… elegant.”

Sophie’s smile softened, her hands squeezing my shoulders. “You always look beautiful, Liv. You just don’t see it.”

“Yeah, well… I’m seeing it now.” I forced a smile, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in my chest. I felt like an imposter in my own skin.

“Come on.” Sophie grabbed my hand, her excitement contagious. “Let’s go show off.”

We stepped out of the room, our heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors as we made our way down the grand staircase. The warm light from the chandelier bathed everything in a soft, golden glow, and as we reached the landing, I saw them—Karl and Adrian, standing at the base of the stairs, talking quietly.

Karl’s face lit up the moment he saw Sophie, his usual charming grin widening, his arms opening to welcome her as if she were the only light in the room.

But it was Adrian’s gaze that caught me—dark, intense, and locked on me with a force that sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn’t smiling, his expression unreadable, but his eyes… they moved over me, a slow, assessing sweep that seemed to linger on every detail.

For a split second, something flickered in his expression—surprise? Maybe even… impressed?

But then it was gone, his face settling back into that familiar, unreadable mask.

“Well, don’t you two look stunning,” Karl exclaimed, pulling Sophie into a warm hug.

“Thank you,” Sophie’s voice was bright, a perfect reflection of his joy.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, and for some reason, I didn’t know where to put my hands. I settled for crossing them loosely, trying to channel some of that old, sharp confidence.

Adrian’s eyes were still on me, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, lifting my chin a little higher. “Well? Do I pass your Alpha inspection, or should I go back and grab my old band shirt?”

His lips twitched, just slightly. “It’s an improvement.”

“High praise.” I gave him a mock bow. “I’m overwhelmed.”

Sophie laughed, and Karl joined in, his arm still wrapped around her. “Oh, Liv, I missed you.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “You mean you missed free entertainment.”

But beneath the teasing, beneath the warm glow of the moment, I could still feel Adrian’s gaze, a quiet, steady weight that I couldn’t seem to shake.

The dining room was a masterpiece of understated luxury—rich, dark wood paneling, a long, polished table set with fine china and crystal glassware that caught the golden light of the chandelier overhead. The smell of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and warm bread filled the air, a comforting scent that should have put me at ease. But instead, I felt like I was walking into a lion’s den.

Karl’s parents greeted me first—Evelyn and Richard Laurent, a picture of gracious wealth and old-world charm. Evelyn was elegant, her silver-streaked blonde hair swept back in a sophisticated twist, her smile warm but sharp, the kind of woman who could slice you to pieces with a polite compliment. Richard was a tall, silver-haired Alpha with a booming laugh and an easy smile, his handshake firm, his presence commanding without trying.

“Olivia, it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Evelyn said, her voice smooth as silk. “Sophie has spoken so much about you.”

“Only the good things, I hope.” I flashed a smile, my fingers tightening just a little around the back of my chair.

“Oh, she’s been absolutely glowing with joy since you arrived.”

Sophie beamed, her hand resting gently on Karl’s arm as if he were her anchor in this sea of wealth and power.

I settled into my seat, trying to find that calm, sarcastic armor I always wore. But then my gaze drifted to the other side of the table, where she sat.

Lena. My mother.

She barely glanced up as I entered, her fingers delicately adjusting the silverware, her expression perfectly composed. Cold. Always cold. I knew that face so well—the tight smile, the polite indifference. The way she seemed to see right through me.

She looked like she belonged here—talking with Evelyn about the ceremony plans, about Sophie’s upcoming life as a mate in this powerful family. Her voice was soft, warm, a picture of motherly pride. She laughed at Richard’s jokes, complimented the floral arrangements, spoke with that polished, educated tone that had always seemed so perfect.

So perfectly not meant for me.

I forced my gaze down to my plate as the first course was served—some delicate soup that smelled like herbs and butter. I picked up my spoon, trying to ignore the ache twisting in my chest.

I was sixteen when Dad died. A car accident. Sudden. Brutal. One minute, he was there, laughing, strong, a solid presence in our lives. And the next, gone.

And with him went the last person who had ever made me feel like I mattered.

Lena had always been cold, but after Dad’s death, she became ice. I was a problem she didn’t know how to fix, a disappointment she barely tolerated. But Sophie? Sophie was her dream. Her perfect, beautiful Omega daughter. And now, in just a few days, Sophie would marry into wealth and power, fulfilling every wish Lena had ever whispered.

“Well, of course, Sophie has always been so graceful,” Lena’s voice floated across the table, soft and proud. “She’s always known how to make a good impression. I suppose some girls just have a natural charm.”

I stared at my soup, my fingers gripping the spoon a little too tight.

“Oh, absolutely,” Evelyn agreed, her voice a warm hum. “It’s such a gift, isn’t it? And she’s done so well for herself.”

Lena’s smile widened. “I always knew she was destined for great things.”

Of course, she did. And I was just the background noise. The wayward daughter, the one who didn’t fit, didn’t belong. Lena had never bothered hiding her disappointment in me. I was a problem she couldn’t fix, a loose thread she never stopped trying to cut.

“Adrian,” Richard’s voice broke through the tension I was drowning in. “How are the preparations going? Everything running smoothly?”

“Perfectly,” Adrian replied, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil twisting in my chest. “Security is set, and the guest list has been finalized. No unexpected surprises.”

Except me, I thought bitterly, staring down at the delicate white bowl in front of me.

“Liv,” Sophie’s soft voice leaned toward me, her hand gently brushing against mine under the table. “You okay?”

I forced a smile, looking up, meeting her worried blue eyes. “Yeah, Soph. Just… not much of a soup person.”

She smiled, her warmth like a candle in a storm, but I didn’t miss the worried crease in her brow.

“Of course, Olivia has always had… unconventional tastes,” Lena’s voice cut in, her smile still perfectly polite. “But I suppose that makes her so… unique.”

“ Unique ,” I muttered, my fingers tightening on the silver spoon. “That’s one word for it.”

Sophie’s hand squeezed mine gently under the table, a silent plea. Just for tonight. Just for her.

So I looked down at my plate and focused on breathing. Focused on letting Lena’s barbed compliments and sharp smiles slide off me like rain on glass. Because this was Sophie’s moment. Sophie’s night.

And I wouldn’t ruin it for her. Even if I had to swallow every sharp retort I wanted to hurl across the table.

The roast arrived, a perfectly seared, aromatic masterpiece placed carefully in the center of the table, and I tried to lose myself in the warm, savory scent. I cut a piece, tried to focus on the tenderness of the meat, the subtle flavors of rosemary and garlic. Anything but the tightening knot in my chest.

But of course, Lena couldn’t help herself.

“And how is that divorce going from your human?” she asked, her voice light, like she was inquiring about the weather.

The table stilled. Even the quiet clatter of silverware seemed to pause. My fingers tightened around the fork, the metal pressing uncomfortably against my palm.

“Fine,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even.

“Is he picking you clean?” Lena continued, a faint smile touching her perfectly painted lips. “Humans can be so… petty. I do hope you didn’t sign anything foolish.”

“He cheated on me, Mom. He gets nothing, remember?”

There was a beat of silence, and then she looked at me, that familiar expression of barely hidden disgust clouding her face. “I still don’t understand why you married a human in the first place. It was always bound to end like this. They don’t understand loyalty. They don’t value the sanctity of marriage.”

I felt something twist in my chest, a sharp, painful stab of something raw and ugly. “Mating is for life, right?” I muttered, the bitterness slipping out before I could stop it.

“Exactly,” Lena said, her tone firm, like she was lecturing me. “A true bond. Something beyond their understanding.”

“Lena,” Evelyn’s voice was gentle, a thin attempt at diffusing the tension. “I’m sure Olivia—”

But I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t.

The walls felt like they were closing in, the warm, golden light suddenly too bright, too suffocating. I pushed my chair back, the soft scrape against the polished wood too loud in the quiet room.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, the words barely more than a whisper. I didn’t wait for a response. I just turned and walked, the grand hallway stretching out before me like a lifeline.

The cool night air hit me like a shock as I stepped out onto the terrace, the chill biting against my bare shoulders, but I didn’t care. I needed it. Needed to breathe. Needed to escape the walls pressing in, the perfectly polite barbs, the crushing weight of her disappointment.

The gardens stretched out before me, glowing under the soft, silvery light of the moon, the faint rustle of leaves whispering in the breeze. I wrapped my arms around myself, staring out at the dark, shadowed treetops, trying to let the cold numb the ache in my chest.

“Sanctity of marriage,” I whispered to the empty night. “Right. Because mating is so much better.”

I closed my eyes, willing the knot in my throat to ease, but it didn’t. It never did. Not around her. Not around the constant reminder that I would always be the one who didn’t fit. The one who didn’t belong. The one who didn’t know when to shut up and be perfect.

And the worst part? It still hurt. Even after all these years.

I heard footsteps behind me, the soft crunch of gravel beneath leather shoes, and I didn’t bother turning around. “Not now, Sophie.”

A low, familiar voice answered, smooth as dark velvet. “Not Sophie.”

I turned, and there he was—Adrian, standing just a few feet away, his tall, imposing figure half-shadowed in the moonlight, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Oh, great. Exactly what I needed,” I muttered, letting my head fall back against the cool stone wall. “Come to lecture me about respecting pack traditions or something?”

“I was going to offer to take you back to the hotel,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Unless you’d prefer standing out here, sulking in the cold.”

“I’ll take a taxi,” I shot back, pushing off the wall, trying to ignore the way his dark eyes seemed to catch the moonlight. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away. “You could. But I’m heading in that direction anyway.”

“Oh, sure. Coincidence?”

“I’m not much of a dessert person.” His lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile I’d ever seen from him. “And the conversation in there was starting to give me a headache.”

I huffed a laugh, bitterness curling around the sound. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

“Is your mother always like that?”

“Unfortunately.” I leaned against the railing, the cool metal pressing against my back. “I’m the family disappointment. She likes to remind me whenever she gets the chance.”

“I noticed.” His voice was calm, neutral, but there was something in his gaze—something sharp and searching. “So, a taxi, huh? Gonna call one? Or are you planning to walk?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you will.” He stepped closer, just enough that the faint scent of cedar and something darker curled around me. “Or you could let me drive you. Unless your pride won’t allow it.”

“My pride is perfectly intact, thanks.”

“Then why are you still arguing?”

“Because it’s what I do.” I tried to glare at him, but the smug, almost relaxed look on his face just made me want to wipe it off. “Fine. You want to play chauffeur again? Knock yourself out.”

“See? Was that so hard?” He gestured toward the driveway, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Only because you’re insufferable,” I muttered, pushing past him and heading for the car.

He fell into step beside me, his long strides easily keeping pace with mine. “I’ve been told.”

“I’ll bet.”

We reached his sleek black SUV, and he unlocked the doors with a quiet click. I climbed in, sinking into the soft leather seat, and for a moment, I just breathed. The quiet hum of the engine, the subtle scent of leather and cedar—calm. Control. Everything that dinner wasn’t.

Adrian settled into the driver’s seat, the faint glow of the dashboard casting his face in shadows and sharp lines. “So, are family dinners always that… entertaining for you?”

“Only when I show up.” I leaned my head against the window, watching the moonlit trees blur past. “But hey, it’s tradition. Lena snipes at me, I bite back, Sophie pretends everything’s fine. A classic.”

“She didn’t seem to be pretending,” he said, his tone almost… curious.

“Yeah, well, Sophie’s got the ‘ peacekeeper ’ gene. I got the ‘ human disaster’ one.”

“Human disaster?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. You’ve seen me in action.”

“I have.” He glanced at me, one dark eyebrow raised. “But you survived. And you didn’t give your mother the satisfaction of watching you fall apart.”

“Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Almost.”

A faint smile pulled at my lips, and I tried to shake it off. I wasn’t supposed to like this. I wasn’t supposed to find any comfort in his stupid, brooding presence.

But the road stretched out ahead of us, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence, and for a moment, it was just us. No Lena. No whispered judgments. Just… silence. Calm.

“So, you really don’t like dessert?” I asked, desperate to fill the quiet.

“Not a fan.”

“Figures. Sugar probably runs from you in terror.”

“I just prefer things with substance.”

“Substance? Like dry toast and black coffee?”

He chuckled, a low, rough sound that sent a strange warmth curling through my chest. “Something like that.”

“Man of mystery.”

“And you’re a woman of chaos.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

We fell into another comfortable silence, the soft glow of the dashboard lighting his face, shadows dancing over his sharp features. I let my eyes drift to the window, the moonlit trees sliding by, and for the first time all night, the knot in my chest loosened, just a little.

When we pulled up in front of the hotel, I reached for the door handle, already halfway out. “Thanks for the ride. You can head back now.”

“I live here.”

Of course he did.

“Of course you do,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and stepping out onto the curb. The lobby lights spilled out onto the sidewalk, warm and golden, and I suddenly craved that same warm glow wrapping around me. Or maybe just a strong drink. Yeah, definitely that.

Adrian climbed out of the driver’s side, locking the car with a smooth click, but his long strides carried him toward the entrance without another glance in my direction. Always so calm, so composed. So maddening.

“Hey, Mr. Control Freak!” I called, my voice echoing against the polished glass walls of the lobby.

He stopped, turned, one dark eyebrow arched.

“I’m heading to the bar. Want to join? Or would that be too… unstructured for you?”

“Tempting.” His lips twitched in that faint, almost-smile. “But I have work to do.”

“Of course you do.” I tossed him a mock salute. “Well, don’t work too hard. Someone has to keep this place from falling apart, right?”

“Exactly.” And with that, he turned, his tall figure disappearing into the depths of the lobby, leaving me standing in the cool night air.

Infuriating . That was the word. He was infuriating. Smooth, calm, annoyingly in control of everything.

Whatever. I had better company waiting for me—namely, a strong drink and a bar stool.

I stepped into the warm, dimly lit bar, the quiet murmur of low voices and the soft clink of glassware a comforting background. I slipped onto a high stool, the bartender giving me a polite, professional smile.

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey. Neat. Actually, make it a double.”

“Rough night?”

“You have no idea.”

I leaned back, letting the soft glow of the bar light wash over me, the glass cool in my hand as I took that first, burning sip. It was a pleasant, familiar burn—one that quieted the storm in my chest, dulled the sharp edges of my mother’s words, softened the memory of Adrian’s sharp, knowing gaze.

I’d survived dinner. I’d survived Lena. And now, I was alone. Finally. No sharp remarks, no subtle insults, no perfectly poised masks I had to wear.

Just me, a glass of whiskey, and the gentle hum of strangers living their perfectly ordinary lives around me.

I tried not to think about the way Adrian had looked at me, that strange mix of curiosity and something else. Tried not to think about the way his voice softened when we weren’t snapping at each other.

But the whiskey didn’t make me forget. It just made the thoughts blur together, warm and hazy.

“Here’s to another night of surviving,” I whispered, raising the glass to the dim reflection of myself in the bar mirror. “ Cheers .”