Adele's POV
"Sister…"
I tightened my grip around Damien's hand as we stood together, watching our relatives approach, wearing blank expressions. My gaze lingered on them longer than it should have, taking in every detail with a growing sense of unease.
Their appearance alone spoke volumes.
In the past, we belonged to the same pack. Just a bunch of omegas striving to go through our lives as lowly workers of the alpha house.
We were forced to leave once my father's gambling and alcohol addictions turned him violent, and none of our relatives stood up to defend us.
It was only thanks to the fact that my brother and I were still young back then that our family hadn't been persecuted for treason.
We had never joined any rogues. My mother found a job and settled among humans, which was easy for lowly omegas like ourselves.
We had never heard anything from my mother's side of the family ever since. No one had ever reached out. No one had ever tried to help.
There had been rumors that they, too, had left our pack, and now, it seemed the rumors were true—my aunt's recent business ventures had been wildly successful.
Though they came from the same lowly rank of omegas like us, they carried themselves with the effortless polish of nobility. Once they started applying themselves outside the pack's suffocating authority, wealth clung to them like a second skin.
My aunt wore a lustrous silk dress that caught the light with every step, her hat tastefully adorned with pearls. A sapphire necklace rested against her throat, matched perfectly by the earrings in her ears.
Her husband followed beside her in a finely tailored designer suit, an ebony cane clasped loosely in his gloved hand, more accessory than necessity. Even their two sons were dressed impeccably, every inch resembling young gentlemen raised in privilege.
I bit the inside of my lip, forcing my expression into something neutral. What were they thinking, showing up now? Whatever reason had brought them here, I doubted it was born of genuine concern.
"We heard the news this morning," my aunt said, her voice dripping with forced sympathy. "We only returned from overseas yesterday. My goodness… what a tragedy. I never imagined your mother would leave us so suddenly."
Her sorrow was flawless—too flawless. She played the part like a seasoned actress. One look into her eyes told me everything I needed to know. There was no grief there. Only calculation.
As she stepped closer, a heavy wave of perfume enveloped me, sharp and suffocating. I pulled my hand free from hers when she reached out, my lips curving into a restrained, bitter smile.
"So," I said quietly, "what brings you here?"
Her brows lifted in surprise, as if I'd asked something utterly unreasonable.
"What do you mean by that?"
I kept my smile polite, though it felt brittle. "It's just strange. You never came to see her while she was sick. Not once. Yet you appear for the funeral. I did not even invite you."
For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as if she were a fish thrown out of water.
I studied her face—remarkably smooth for her age—and her hands, pale and delicate, now looked like they had never been touched by labor. How different they were from my mother's worn, calloused hands, shaped by a lifetime of sacrifice.
The truth of it all burned in my chest.
My aunt's comfortable life had been built on my mother's kindness. Our maternal family carried ancient blood but little wealth, and there was no male heir to continue the line. My grandfather had sought advantageous marriages for his daughters, but the dowries they could offer were pitiful.
That was exactly why we could never move up in our ranks. Even if we could find a high-ranking wolf, the mate would be rejected. Nobody wanted to marry a poor omega who had nothing to offer but their pitiful self.
My aunt, the second daughter, had always been ambitious, though. She had always had her sights set on wealth. Trapping a wealthy gamma warrior with pregnancy was a practical choice—better to be rich and unhappy than a struggling servant, clinging to the shreds of a useless bond.
Even then, it was not a simple trick to pull. To marry the man beside her now, she had asked my mother to give up all our family savings as a dowry, promising to pay her back. And my mother, gentle and selfless as she was, had agreed without complaint.
Once my aunt secured the life she wanted, she all but erased her past. She cut ties with the family, keeping only the faintest connection to my mother out of lingering guilt. But when my mother fell ill—when treatment became expensive and inconvenient—that connection vanished entirely.
She hadn't wanted to spare even a single dime.
My mother never blamed her. But I did.
"What kind of mother raises a daughter with such poor manners?" my aunt muttered now, clicking her tongue. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You didn't have much of an education in that household, did you? No tutors, no proper schooling. No better than a pack slave. What good was your freedom in that case?"
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I forced myself to breathe, to steady the anger rising dangerously within me. When I met her gaze, my voice was calm.
"Did you come to my mother's funeral just to insult me?"
Her eyes widened slightly before she scoffed. "What nonsense. She was my sister. Of course I came to pay my respects." She paused, then added casually, "And I have business to discuss with your father."
"…With my father?"
A chill crept down my spine. My heart sank as a terrible suspicion took shape. My palms grew damp, fingers clenching tightly.
My father had a talent for disaster. Wherever he went, trouble followed. I didn't know where he was now—or what mess he had created this time—but I already dreaded the answer.
"Your father borrowed money from us two weeks ago," my aunt said lightly. "Fifty thousand dollars."
The world seemed to tilt.
I snapped my head up to stare at her. She met my gaze with a faint, mocking smile, making no effort to hide her contempt.
"…My father borrowed money?" I whispered.
"Yes. He claimed it was for a new medicine to treat your mother—something very costly. Originally, he asked for one hundred thousand dollars." She shrugged. "We refused that, of course, but we did lend him fifty thousand."
My chest tightened painfully.
"He said he would double the money," she continued, her tone almost amused. "Apparently, he planned to do so at the gambling tables. He borrowed the money and showed up at a gambling hall the very next day."
The words fell like a guillotine axe.