Chapter 2

VALENTINA

I was pacing in tight, frantic circles in the center of my room, my chest heaving. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the video of Harold and the flash of the car crash. The adrenaline was the only thing keeping me standing.

"Calm down, my lady. You shouldn’t stress," Tulia whispered, her voice a soft anchor in the room. "You just had a terrible accident. Please, sit."

I finally collapsed into the wooden chair. Tulia was the only soul in this house who truly saw me, the only one who didn't look at me like a servant or a wolf-less mistake. As she dipped a cloth into warm water to clean the blood from my forehead, I winced.

"Did Agatha say anything?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Was she worried I was back so late?"

Tulia gave me a sad, knowing look. "No, Valentina. Don't worry about her. Your stepmother is out and won't be back anytime soon. You know her addiction for partying, she's probably halfway to the next city by now. Don't worry about her. Worry about yourself."

As Tulia’s gentle hands tended to my wounds, I picked up my cracked phone. I couldn't stop staring at that notification. I started scrolling, digging into the biography of the man on the poster, Horace.

"Tulia," I murmured, staring at his icy blue eyes on the screen. "What do you know about him? About Horace?"

Tulia froze, the damp cloth hovering over my skin. She looked toward the door as if his name alone could summon a ghost.

"He is a monster in a jersey, my lady," she whispered. "People say he’s the most ruthless player to ever step onto the ice in the Northern Territory. They call him the ice Reaper because once he targets a player, he doesn't stop until their career is over. He never forgets a debt, and he never, ever forgives."

She shivered, moving to bandage my arm. "And the rumors about his personal life... they say he has a true hatred for women with blonde hair. He won't even let a blonde woman sit in the front row of his games. 

Some say a blonde girl broke his heart years ago, others say he just finds them weak but the truth has something to do with his mother. 

He’s despicable, Valentina. He’s violent, and he’s the last person a girl like you should ever think about."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My own hair was a pale, shimmering blonde. A dangerous spark lit up in my chest. If Horace hated blondes, and he hated Harold, then I was the ultimate weapon. I was exactly the kind of distraction that could walk right into his world and set it on fire.

My fingers traced the cracked screen of my phone, lingering on the photo of Horace. Every time I looked at those eyes, my heart skipped, not with fear, but with a strange, rhythm. It was a pull I couldn't explain, a deep, buzzing familiarity that made my skin prickle. It was like a memory I hadn't lived yet.

"And what about... Harold?" Tulia asked softly, her voice hesitant.

"That idiot," I spat, the name tasting like ash in my mouth. "That absolute fool was cheating on me with a man, Tulia. Can you believe that?"

The words finally broke the dam. Tears welled up, hot and thick, spilling over the bandages Tulia had just applied. She gasped, pulling me into a tight, protective hug.

"Oh, my lady... no," she whispered, stroking my hair.

"Don't cry," she urged, but I couldn't stop. I sobbed into her shoulder, the weight of three years crashing down on me. I cried for the sacrifices I made, and the way I’d practically built his career with my own two hands while he was busy building a life with someone else.

But mostly, I cried because of what came next.

"If my stepmother hears this... she’ll send me to my grave," I choked out between sobs. "She doesn't care about my heart, Tulia. She only cares about the Alpha’s gold. The second she finds out I’m done with him, she’ll try to force me back into his arms. She’d tell me to ignore the cheating, to be a good mate and stay quiet just to keep the status."

I pulled away, wiping my face with the back of my hand, my eyes hardening. I looked back at the photo of Horace, the man who hated blondes, the man who was Harold's greatest nightmare on the ice.

If my stepmother wanted me to be with a powerful man, I’d give her one. But it wouldn't be the one who used me.

"I'm not going back to that coward," I whispered, my voice turning cold. "If I'm going to be destroyed anyway, I might as well burn the whole kingdom down on my way out."

Tulia squeezed my hand one last time, her eyes full of pity. "I have so much work to do, my lady. I'll see you later. Please, try to rest."

"Thank you, Tulia," I whispered.

The moment the door clicked shut, I was alone with the silence. When Tiffany had shoved her phone in my face, she thought she was just taunting me. She didn't realize that in the heat of our argument, I had used my thumb to hit share the file to my own device. It was a risk, but in Vetty Veil, information was the only currency I had left.

I opened the video again. I needed to see the man's face. I needed to know who was worth three years of my life.

But as the camera panned down in that dimly lit hotel suite, the air left my lungs. The camera was shaky, pointed at a rumpled hotel bed. The man was on his knees, and Harold behind him, skin slapping against skin in a rough, steady rhythm. The sound was muffled but clear-grunts, the creak of the bed. Uh... uh... ahh...

And beneath them, on the sheets, was a woman.

Her face was turned toward the camera, eyes closed in pleasure, a serene smile on her lips as she reached up to caress the thigh of Harold. Her fingers traced his skin, then she turned her head and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Harold's hip. Her hair fanned out on the pillow.

Agatha.

My stepmother.

The world didn't spin, it shattered. A silent, violent explosion behind my eyes. My breath stopped. The phone trembled in my hand.

What the fuck.

The video kept playing. Agatha's hands moved, one stroking the other man’s back, the other drifting between her own legs. She moaned softly.

Harold gasped, "Yeah, take it," to the man he was fucking and Agatha's smile widened.

I stabbed the screen to pause it. My lungs burned. I hadn't breathed. How? How did she get there? This wasn't recent. I fumbled, pulling up the video details. The timestamp was from eleven days ago. 

And Tiffany... How did Tiffany have this? She ran with a wild crowd, the kind that traded secrets. Maybe someone had found it, shared it around as a nasty joke. Maybe Harold's lover had shown it off. It didn't matter. It was here. In my hand.

I’m such a big fool. A blind, sick fool.

A hot tear splashed onto the screen, blurring Agatha's satisfied face. Then another. I didn't make a sound. I just sat there, crying silently in the empty room, the proof of everything broken playing on a loop behind my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

The darkness outside matched the hollow feeling in my chest. When I heard the gravel crunching beneath the tires of Agatha’s car, my blood turned to ice. I didn't hesitate. I rushed to her room, throwing the door open to find her reeking of alcohol.

"How long?" I choked out, the video still burned into my retinas. "How long have you been fucking Harold? You wicked witch!". Tears streamed down my face, my nose dripping as I shook with a pain that felt physical. "How could you do this to me? I did everything you asked!"

Agatha didn't flinch. She stood up, towering over me with a lethal smirk that made my stomach turn. "Oh, Valentina," she purred, her voice dripping with mock pity. "Are you just finding out? Every time Harold came to this house, it was for me, not you, you little bitch.". 

She stepped closer, her eyes cold. "I don’t even know what he sees in you. Why the universe would mate him to a pathetic, wolf-less human like you is a mystery.".

"Is that why you killed my father?" I screamed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Because he caught you with Alpha Dave?".

The blow was so fast I didn't see it coming. Even drunk, she had the strength of a monster. Her hand cracked across my face, sending me reeling, the skin of my cheek stinging with a heat that matched my shame.

"Your father was a stupid man who deserved to die," she hissed, leaning down until her alcoholic breath fanned my face. "And if I had the chance, I’d fuck Harold right in front of your face. Now get the fuck out of my house.".

I stood there, helpless and broken, as she told me leave. I realized then that I had wasted my entire life being a ladder for a woman who wanted me dead.

"I'll make you pay, Agatha," I whispered, my voice sounding foreign even to me.

I stumbled back to my room to pack. Tulia was there, her eyes red from crying as she begged me not to go. "Please, Valentina, reconsider! Don't leave me here!" she sobbed, clutching at my sleeve.

"I have nothing left for me here, Tulia," I said, my heart turning into a stone in my chest.

Tulia knew I wouldn't stay. She helped me shove my life into a few bags, her hands shaking as much as mine. I had already booked the earliest flight out of this hell. As I walked out into the cold night, leaving the only home I’d ever known, I didn't look back.