Aria’s POV

Sophia glared at the camera, her eyes like daggers, as if she could pierce through the screen and straight into my heart.

"I know you’re jealous of me. I know you hate me. But you shouldn’t fabricate lies to smear my father! Your father! Aria!"

My name was the spark that ignited the wildfire.

The reporters snapped forward, microphones lunging like muzzles ready to bite.

"Ms. Sophia Darvin, you’re accusing Aria. Do you have any evidence?"

"Mr. Patrick Darvin, do you believe Aria is responsible?"

"Mrs. Margaret Darvin, the expos— or your daughter, which do you trust?"

Their questions fell like blows. My claws dug crescents into my palms as I fought the instinct to shift. My wolf prowled and paced within me, wanting out.

But I stayed still, watching the livestream.

Margaret said nothing, her silence was a cold, calculated weapon. Sophia and Patrick spoke for her, like a united front, or an illusion of one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down," Patrick commanded, gripping a microphone. His voice was steady.

"Clarence, my wife’s savior, passed away over a decade ago. Mrs. Darvin and I don’t want to hear any more rumors about her. The internet has demonized her existence, so we’ve decided to hold a belated funeral for Clarence in two days.

A funeral for a woman who was still alive?. The lie was so bold it should’ve shattered, but instead it cloaked them like armor.

By announcing a funeral for Clarence, Patrick was directly countering the rumors that she was still alive.

"We’ll invite major media outlets to witness it, and we hope everyone will clear our names," Patrick concluded, bowing to the camera and reporters.

The livestream ended.

My vision blurred with fury. My fists trembled, claws itching to break skin.

Just then, Rowland called again.

"How could they pretend to be innocent?" His deep scoff crackled through my phone.

"Innocent? They wouldn’t know innocence if it bit them," I growled.

Something felt wrong, terribly wrong. Patrick wouldn’t do this without a plan, without leverage. What changed? What did he gain? My mind raced, but the answers stayed just out of reach, shadows slipping through my claws.

I sent Amelia a text message "Keep watch on them. No movement should go unnoticed."

A beat later Amelia sent a confirmation of my text.

I slid back into the call. "Rowland. Do you know where the funeral will be?"

His voice cooled, serious. "Yeah, I just got a notification, it will be held at the largest cathedral in Asterfell."

I stilled. My wolf went rigid.

The cathedral.

Was it a coincidence? Or was there a reason behind this choice?.

I recalled my grandmother mentioning that when Margaret married Patrick, the Darvin Group was just beginning to flourish.

Although Patrick wasn’t from a prestigious family in Asterfell, with his liquid assets combined with contributions from the Osborne family and Margaret’s assets, throwing a grand wedding was no issue.

They had planned to hold the wedding at that very cathedral, but it never came to pass.

I lifted the phone again, replaying the livestream, staring at Margaret’s face. She didn’t look threatened. She looked... convinced. As if Patrick had given her something powerful enough to bury a lifetime of doubt.

What did he offer her?

Silence stretched until Rowland broke it. "So? Are you going?"

"Of course," I hissed, no hesitation. My wolf growled her approval.

But reality crawled up my spine. The event would be locked down tighter than a pack’s den in a storm. There would be cameras, bodyguards, reporters and Patrick, who would love to see me dragged out in chains.

"I might not be able to get in. Not as myself."

Rowland laughed, warm and amused, like embers catching flame. "Aria, you underestimate me. I’ll get you in. Even if I have to drag you through the back."

His confidence curled heat in my chest. Just enough to thaw the ice.

"Alright," I breathed.

Nathan’s POV

The rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of my top-floor office. The storm outside was no match for the one clawing inside my chest. Hemsworth Group’s headquarters smelled like polished wood and cold steel.

Collins stood in front of me, rattling off the latest trending scandals on the internet. His voice was calm and steady... but his heartbeat betrayed him. He was nervous. I could hear it as clearly as if I pressed my ear to his ribs.

I leaned back in my chair. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin.

All I could think of was Aria. Even the thought of her name sent heat and ice warring through me.

Collins continued, his scent tinged with irritation. He spoke about a lot of things, but one thing bothered my mind.

"Rowland’s been with Aria lately, hasn’t he?" The words came out lower, rougher than I intended, a rumble echoing from the wolf in me.

Collins nodded. One single nod. It was enough to make my blood boil.

Rowland. That bastard nephew of mine. He had been with Aria more times than I could tolerate. My wolf bared his teeth at the thought.

"The Garfield family isn’t intervening?" I drummed my fingers on the desk. Tap. Tap. Each tap synchronized with a pulse in my jaw.

Collins blinked in confusion and fear. He didn’t understand the game of alphas and bloodlines. He didn’t need to. He just needed to obey.

"Contact the Garfield family and find something for Rowland to do," I ordered.

Collins paled. "Alpha Nathan, last time we involved the Garfield family, Alpha Rowland sabotaged several major projects in retaliation—"

I tilted my head, my gaze pinning him like prey. "Want to take my place?"

His answer came instantly. "No, sir!" His scent soured with panic.

Once he scurried off to carry out my commands, the silence closed in. I hated it. Silence left room for thoughts... and memories.

Minutes later he returned, a forced smile plastered on his face. "I’ve contacted the Garfield family."

"Good." My voice was ice. "Also, arrange for me to attend Clarence’s funeral."