Drew drove back to the spot where he'd left me the day before.
The morning light filtered through the trees, casting thin, golden shafts across the winding road. The mist still clung low to the earth, reluctant to lift—like the remnants of a dream unraveling too slowly.
But I was gone.
The road was empty.
A sudden wave of dread crashed over him.
It wasn't the kind of panic that came from misplacing something.
It was the kind that told you—you had just lost something irreplaceable.
Then he saw my message.
And the hollow in his chest cracked wide open.
---
Back at the villa, I was packing in silence.
Every movement felt heavy. My fingers brushed over clothes I barely remembered owning. My heart ached like it had been bruised from the inside out.
I had already decided to let go of this relationship.
But that didn't make it hurt any less.
My phone lit up. Drew's name appeared.
I didn't answer. I just stared as the screen glowed, then dimmed. Again and again.
The man who once promised to protect me—for life—had chosen her.
Laura.
---
When I was a child, I went missing. For years, I wandered—nameless, forgotten. A ghost with no home.
They didn't find me until I was ten.
By then, the family I was supposed to belong to already had another daughter. A girl about my age. A girl named Laura.
I remember the first time I saw her.
I was standing in the living room, filthy from years on the streets. She stood on the second floor in a beautiful dress, her chin lifted, her eyes filled with something sharp and cold.
Disdain.
Like I was a mangy stray that had wandered into her mansion.
She offered to teach me manners.
But every lesson was a cruelty wrapped in silk.
She humiliated me in front of the maids, made sure I knew I wasn't allowed at the table. She shredded the dresses my parents gave me. Destroyed every doll with a smile.
Then she'd look into my parents' eyes and lie—flawlessly.
"She's a liar. She's unstable. The streets made her selfish."
And I believed I had to try harder. Be better. Be quiet.
But no matter how kind I tried to be—how obedient—I was only met with more contempt.
My family grew colder each day.
They called Laura refined. A proper lady.
They called me a vulgar brat with the manners of a stray werewolf.
They said I was worse than the cook's daughter.
And then one day, it hit me:
The cook's daughter—was Laura.
---
During those shadowed days, when no one believed in me, Drew was the only one who looked at me like I mattered.
The only one who said I deserved to be loved.
And now… even he had turned his back.
---
When I didn't answer his calls, Drew drove straight to the villa.
With Laura.
And her daughter.
Ever since she'd severed her mate bond, Laura had been returning more and more, slipping into this house like she never left.
In truth, the villa felt more like hers than mine.
Her room was always waiting.
The best lighting. Fresh sheets. Not a speck of dust.
Cleaned daily—even if she didn't visit for weeks.
Off-limits to everyone but her.
---
I was halfway down the stairs when Drew saw me and rushed forward, pulling me into his arms.
"Sienna," he whispered urgently, "I know you're upset. You didn't answer your phone—I had to come. Please. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
The moment I saw him, tears slipped down my cheeks without permission.
Drew panicked, fumbling to wipe them away with both hands, murmuring apologies, trying to fix what was already broken.
But then—
Laura stood up.
She slapped a piece of half-eaten fruit out of her daughter's hand in frustration. Anne burst into tears, but Laura's eyes were already locked on mine.
She approached quickly, face pale, lips trembling.
"Sienna, I'm sorry," she said, breathless, "I really thought you invited me. That's why I brought Anne to the amusement park. This is my fault. Please… don't be mad at Drew. He was exhausted yesterday and still drove all the way back for you. I was terrified something might happen to him."
She was winding up for more—more excuses, more dramatics—but Drew cut in sharply.
He turned back to me, guilt carved into every line of his face.
"Sienna, this isn't about Laura. It's me. I forgot to come back for you. She didn't know anything. She's innocent."
I stared at him.
Blank. Numb.
Like someone had doused me in ice water.
I had cried myself hollow over his absence. Over the silence. Over the sharp, sudden fear that maybe I wasn't worth remembering.
And the first thing he did when he saw me—was defend her.
Not once had he asked me how I felt.
Not once did he try to explain to me.
He was afraid I'd lash out at Laura. Afraid I'd blame her. So he threw himself under the bus to protect her.
Again.
And in that moment, I realized—
He'd already chosen.