Chapter 1: The Wedding Dress
[Evelyn’s POV]
I knew something was wrong the moment I pushed open the door to my room.
There, standing in front of my full-length mirror, was my stepsister, Samantha, wearing my wedding dress.
She had yanked the bodice dangerously low and was squeezing her cleavage together with one arm while the other waved her
phone around seeking the perfect angle. She tilted her chin, pouted her painted lips, and snapped photo after photo.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The sight was so brazen, so typically Samantha, that my brain needed a second to catch up with
my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I crossed the room in three strides. “Take my dress off. Now.”
Samantha didn’t flinch. She lowered her phone and turned to me with that smile she’d perfected over the years, the one that said
she’d already won whatever fight I was about to start.
“Relax, Evelyn. I’m only trying it on.” She smoothed the fabric over her hips and admired herself in the mirror. “Honestly, it suits
me so much better, don’t you think? A gown like this deserves someone who actually looks the part.”
“It’s not yours to try on.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You walk around in cotton rags all day. You run errands with the servants. And suddenly you
care about fashion? This dress is wasted on you.”
That had always been how things worked in this house.
Ever since my mother died and my father married Isabella, I’d been treated like an afterthought. Samantha and Isabella were the
picture of what an Alpha’s family should look like: polished, elegant, always dressed in expensive fabrics. I was the one who
preferred practical cotton clothes, who knew every servant by name, who could tell you the price of grain down to the copper.
Isabella called me crude. Samantha called me a wild child. My father called me nothing at all.
And Samantha had always taken whatever she wanted from me: clothes, jewelry, my favorite spot at the dinner table. Every time,
Isabella would smooth it over with the same line, You’re the older sister. Let Samantha have it. And every time, my father would
look the other way.
But none of that mattered anymore because I had Liam.
We’d known each other since we were children. A year ago, on my birthday, he’d told me he loved me. Since then, I’d thrown
myself into helping his pack. I’d restructured their grain storage, adjusted their crop rotation, built trading connections with two
neighboring territories. His pack’s revenue had nearly tripled, and I was proud of every bit of it.
In a few days, he was going to come to the estate and formally ask my father for my hand. I almost grew breathless at the thought,
but I needed my breath for Samantha. This dress was meant for that day. It wasn’t all that expensive, but I’d saved for it myself,
and it was mine.
“Take it off, Samantha.”
“Or what?” She cocked her head. “Y ou’ll go crying to the servants? That’s all you’re good at.”
“Take. It. Off.”Samantha’s expression hardened. She grabbed a fistful of the skirt and pulled it tight against her body. “If you want it so badly,
come and get it.”
I reached for the sleeve. The moment my fingers touched the lace, Samantha shoved me with both hands. I stumbled, caught my
balance, and grabbed at the fabric again. She pushed harder. In the brief, graceless struggle that followed, her phone flew from
her hand and clattered onto the stone floor, screen facing up.
I glanced down and away from her briefly startled eyes.
The screen still showed her messaging app. A string of selfies, my wedding dress on full display, had been sent to someone. A
man. His profile photo was small, partially hidden by the chat bubble, but something about the angle of his jaw and the shade of
his hair, looked familiar.
My heart stuttered.
That looks like Liam.
Samantha lunged for the phone, snatched it off the floor, and locked the screen.
“What are you staring at?” she snapped, her cheeks flushing red. “Mind your own business!”
“Who were you sending those to?” Dread filled my chest, but I kept it out of my voice. It couldn’t have been my fiancé on her
screen.
“None of your concern.”
“I said, who was that?”
“A friend. Not that it’s any of your business.” She clutched the phone to her chest, and for the first time in this whole encounter,
she looked genuinely rattled. I had never seen that expression on her face before, but I still knew what it meant.
No. I’m overthinking it. It was blurry. It could have been anyone.Samantha tore the dress off, balled it up, and threw it at me.
“Keep your cheap little gown, Evelyn. Everything that’s yours ends up being mine sooner or later anyway.”
Then she was gone.
I checked the seams. The dress was fine. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that profile photo.
* * *
I carried my unease downstairs.
In the sitting room, I found Isabella and two of the elder pack members speaking in low, urgent tones. A pot of tea sat untouched
on the table.
They didn’t notice me in the doorway. I caught a name that made my steps slow: Alexander Kingston.
I didn’t know anything personal about him but I knew of his pack’s reputation. The Moonstone Pack was the current largest pack
in the country. According to what I’ve heard through passing conversations amongst the staff, Moonstone Pack owed all of its
success to its Alpha.
The young Alpha had been praised for being handsome and highly skilled in battle. He had defeated many poorly managed or
undeserving Alphas and had earned the title of War God. He was exceedingly intelligent and had expanded his territory through
trade.
Our pack was truly no match for his.
However, three months ago, he’d been horribly injured in a major car accident. Now, word was circling around that he lookedterrifying, was disabled, and his temperament had become violent due to his life’s changes.
Alexander’s pack had stopped expanding, and rumors that Alexander would never recover began to spread. And since then, he’d
managed to turn down—rather frighten off two other previous matches. It seemed no one was able to handle this newly
transformed Alpha.
“The King’s reward is substantial,” one of the elders was saying. “More than what he offered the last two families.”
“Substantial or not,” Isabella replied, “the last two would-be Lunas they matched with him ran before they even reached the altar.
What does that tell you about the state of the man?”
“It tells me the man is terrifying,” the elder said bluntly. “But the King won’t take no for an answer. He’s raised the price every
time.”
I pieced it together. The Alpha King was arranging a marriage for Alexander with the Alpha daughter of a smaller pack, a pack
that could be bought. Our pack had made the shortlist.
God help whoever gets chosen for that, I thought.But it wasn’t my concern. In a few days, Liam would ask for my hand, and I
would leave this house for good.
Then a shriek tore through the hallway. I recognized my step-sister’s wail even though, like with her expression only a few minutes
ago, I had never experienced the sound quite like that.
Samantha came flying out of my father’s study at the far end of the house, mascara streaking down her face, breasts heaving as
she sobbed so hard she could barely breathe.
“I won’t do it!” she screamed. “I won’t marry that monster!”
أُوكَازيُون
أُوكَازيُون
