Chapter 1

“Bella, that’s enough.” My Alpha’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

My mouth was still mid-sentence.

I stood frozen at the podium, my notes fluttering slightly in my trembling hands. For a heartbeat, the hush that followed Damien's interruption swallowed every sound in the grand ballroom.

Even the crystal chandeliers, with their thousand shimmering lights, seemed to go still.

“I think we’ve heard plenty about hypothetical sob stories for one night,” Damien said, his voice calm, polished—and unmistakably final.

A ripple of nervous laughter rose from a corner table.

Clara’s, of course.

Sweet and sharp as shattered glass.

I stared out over the crowd—the donors, the Council members, the Alphas and their meticulously groomed mates. They’d come to sip champagne, to be seen. Not to listen to me speak about Omegas struggling after bond trauma. Not to care.

“I—” I tried again, clutching my prepared speech. “The initiative is launching in three pilot locations and will provide immediate—”

Damien stepped forward, taking center stage with a charming smile that never reached his arctic blue eyes. “My mate has always had a tender heart,” he said, slipping an arm around my waist like a silken leash, “but implementation should be left to those with the expertise to avoid costly mistakes. Leave the politics to us, sweetheart.”

The weight of humiliation landed in my gut like a stone.

Scattered applause, hesitant and awkward, followed as I stepped down. My heels echoed against the marble floor, loud and hollow. I didn’t dare look at Clara, who now leaned back in her chair with one hand resting smugly on Damien’s forearm.

I had spoken as Dr. Annabelle Hale. But they only saw the Luna—ornamental, forgettable.

-

Later that night, in the only room that still felt like mine, I kicked off my heels and sat barefoot at my desk. The soft glow of the computer screen lit my face as I pulled up the program files—my files.

My last piece of autonomy.

I clicked through the budget reports, ready to revise and salvage what I could from the night’s wreckage.

What I saw stopped my breath cold.

Red strikethroughs riddled the spreadsheets. Figures had been inflated. Deadlines had been chopped in half. The notes implied amateur-hour errors, the kind a first-year intern would make.

But I hadn’t made them.

Heart hammering, I opened the document history. Every change was logged under my own login. Every last one. Impossible.

Someone had accessed my files. Someone wanted me to fail—publicly.

I fired off an email to the IT department, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Urgent: Please audit change logs on the attached document. Edits made outside authorized hours.”

I sat back, trembling. If this was Clara’s doing—and I didn’t doubt it—she’d covered her tracks well. But I knew my schedule. I’d been at public events during most of the changes. Witnesses could place me in those rooms.

It was enough to start digging.

At dawn, I walked into the Great Hall armed with a thick folder of printed logs. The walls of stained oak and iron sconces towered over me, as ancient and imposing as the Council that filled the long table.

Clara stood behind Damien, close—always too close—with her tablet in hand. They were reviewing something together. When I stepped in, chairs shifted. Conversations fell away.

“I need to address something before we begin,” I said, my voice sharper than it had been in months.

Damien looked up. “Bella, we have a full docket today.”

“I know.” I stepped forward and laid the reports on the table, page by page. “But this affects all of us.”

He didn’t move. Neither did Clara.

“These are from the Foundation servers. Edits were made to my project files using my login. But these timestamps prove I was elsewhere—publicly, visibly. Someone used my credentials to sabotage this program.”

I turned to the Council. “This isn’t just about me! If someone can manipulate records under Luna credentials, we’re all vulnerable!”

A heavy silence fell. And then—

“Enough.” Damien’s voice landed with the crushing force of Alpha authority. A few members flinched.

“This is exactly the kind of emotional outburst I’ve warned against,” he said, standing slowly. “Omegas are too easily rattled. That’s why they don’t lead. You’ve embarrassed yourself once at the gala, Bella. Let’s not make it a habit.”

“But the data—”

“The data shows you’re out of your depth.” His tone cooled to ice. “Your passion is admirable, but naïve. Let the professionals handle real matters.”

I felt the heat drain from my limbs. Every eye in the room was on me—some pitying, some amused, none willing to stand.

Clara didn’t need to say a word. She sat, calm and poised, in the seat that used to be mine.

Dismissed. Replaced. Forgotten.

I turned and walked out, my heels silent this time.

In the hallway, I paused before the tall polished paneling. My reflection stared back—a woman with haunted eyes and a spine pulled too straight. The pendant around my neck caught the morning light, glinting coldly.

I was once Dr. Annabelle Hale—researcher, speaker, daughter of the South Crescent Pack. I had dreams I fought for. Goals that weren’t wrapped in someone else’s name.

But every step into this bond had chipped something away.

Now, only echoes remained.

I raised a hand to touch the glass.

Would there ever come a day when I could find that woman again?

Because I could still feel her breathing, just beneath the surface.