Chapter Two

preparation to party

POV: Elena

Bastard.

Bastard?

Did he seriously just say that?

The word echoed in my head, slicing through the very last remnants of my grief. My hands, still stained with the red proof of my loss, trembled against my stomach.

Isn't he the father of the child? How the hell was my baby a bastard? We were engaged. We had been together for three long years. I had given up my education, my career, and my entire reputation to carry his bloodline. For months, I had endured the suffocating weight of this pregnancy. Everyone in New York society, every board member at Sterling Business Academy, every wolf in the pack, knew I had conceived out of wedlock. They called me a disgrace. The board looked at me with thinly veiled disgust, using my condition to slowly strip away my duties and clear a path for Julian to step directly into my shoes as acting CEO. I had carried the shame of his child for three months, and now he was looking at the blood on the floor as if it were a minor stain on his expensive suit.

"Think about it rationally, Elena," Julian continued, completely oblivious to the icy shift happening right in front of him. "The trustees have been breathing down our necks for months because of your little... condition. They were already hesitant about handing a multi-billion dollar empire to an unwed mother. Now that the problem has solved itself, we don't have to worry about a scandal breaking before the alliance. This makes things a thousand times easier for my father and me."

I didn’t blink. I couldn't even breathe, I just listened.

The problem has solved itself.

Could he be any more shameless?

Wasn't he the reason we haven't married? Always pushing it off with one excuse or the other, even after I got pregnant.

Hmph.

This was just the perfect, final validation I needed. For months, I had gone to bed feeling guilty, wondering how I could have been so careless, feeling like a failure as the entire pack looked down on me. I had endured the hushed whispers at Sterling Academy, the cold sneers of the board of trustees, and the slow theft of my company by the man standing right in front of me. I had sacrificed everything for the sake of our family, and to him, my agonizing loss was just a convenient correction.

The tears on my cheeks dried instantly under the sudden, scorching heat of my hatred.

Slowly, I reached up and wiped the wetness from my face with the back of my hand, not caring that it left a faint streak of blood across my cheek. I dug my nails into the floor and forced my shaky legs to straighten, gripping the edge of the sink to steady my frame, as I stood up. I looked him dead in his shallow blue eyes.

An utterly flawless smile spread across my lips.

"You're right, Julian," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It was indeed for the best."

Julian blinked, a flash of surprise crossing his features before it was instantly replaced by relief. He smiled, stepping forward to pat my arm like I was some foolish child. "That's my girl. I knew you'd understand the bigger picture. The board members are already on their flights, and with the baby...out of the equation, we can finalize the transition smoothly. Now, clean yourself up. The makeup artists are waiting, and I need my fiancée looking perfect tonight."

"Of course," I whispered, keeping the smile fixed on my face until the bathroom door clicked shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, the smile vanished.

I turned to the mirror, staring at the face looking back at me. My pale green eyes were entirely void of life, filled with sudden bags. I stripped out of the ruined nightgown, throwing it straight into the trash chute. I stepped into the shower, turning the water to near-scalding, and ruthlessly scrubbed every inch of my skin until it burned. I washed away the blood, the sweat, and the feeling of Julian’s touch.

When I walked into my massive closet, I bypassed the section filled with the modest, loose dresses Julian and Vivienne had forced me to wear for months to "hide my shameful state."

Instead, my eyes locked onto a hidden garment bag at the very back. I unzipped it, pulling out a scandalous, open-back gown in a deep emerald green. It was a dress I had bought on a whim before the pregnancy, but never had the courage to wear.

Tonight, it was my armor.

It clung tightly to the curves of my body, the low-cut neckline defying every rule of the Vance household. I did my own makeup, painting my lips a dark blood-red. I left my dark chestnut hair falling in wild, heavy waves down my back, completely baring the pale, unblemished skin of my neck.

My wolf, though still weak and suppressed, let out a low, dark growl of approval. We were ready.