Chapter 2

The Crystal Lounge was exactly the kind of place where Colton and his privileged friends liked to hold court—all polished marble and gleaming chandeliers, where conversations were conducted in whispers and deals were sealed with handshakes worth millions. I'd avoided places like this in my previous life, too intimidated by the casual display of wealth and power.

But today, I walked through those glass doors with my chin high and my shoulders squared. I had business to conduct, and I refused to let the ghosts of my former insecurities hold me back.

I'd barely made it three steps into the main lounge when a familiar voice cut through the ambient chatter like a blade.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence!"

James Whitmore's voice carried that particular brand of cruelty that only came from a lifetime of never facing consequences. He was sprawled across a leather armchair, a tumbler of whiskey dangling from his manicured fingers, surrounded by the usual suspects—pack heirs who'd never worked a day in their lives but somehow believed they'd earned their positions.

"Your fiancé is here!" Another voice chimed in, and cruel laughter rippled through their little circle.

I turned toward the sound, and there he was. Colton Ashford, looking every inch the golden prince in his perfectly tailored suit, his green eyes flashing with an emotion I couldn't quite place. In my previous life, this moment would have sent me into a spiral of anxiety. I would have stammered apologies, tried to explain myself, begged for his understanding.

Not today.

Colton rose from his seat with the fluid grace of a predator, his jaw tight with barely controlled irritation. "Harper." My name fell from his lips like an accusation. "We need to talk."

The lounge seemed to hold its breath as he approached, his friends leaning forward in their seats like spectators at a gladiator match. I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for the show they expected—the pathetic girl groveling for the prince's attention.

"How dare you," Colton's voice was low, dangerous, meant for my ears alone as he stopped just close enough that I could smell his cologne—that expensive scent that had once made my knees weak. "How dare you announce an engagement to my family without even consulting me? Do you have any self-respect left?"

In my previous life, those words would have shattered me. I would have crumbled under the weight of his disapproval, would have apologized until my voice was hoarse, would have promised to fix whatever I'd broken.

Instead, I met his gaze steadily, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

"You're absolutely right, Colton," I said, my voice carrying just enough to reach his attentive audience. "I should have been clearer from the beginning."

His expression shifted, confusion flickering across his perfect features. This wasn't the script he'd expected.

"The person I intend to marry," I continued, savoring each word like fine wine, "isn't you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Then James Whitmore's laughter exploded across the lounge, sharp and mocking.

"Oh, this is rich!" he wheezed, slapping his knee. "Harper Sinclair thinks she can play hard to get now!"

The others joined in, their laughter a symphony of cruelty that would have sent the old Harper running for the nearest exit. But I stood my ground, watching as Colton's face cycled through a rainbow of emotions—confusion, anger, and something that looked almost like... wounded pride?

"Enough!" His voice cracked like a whip, silencing his friends instantly. When he turned back to me, his eyes were blazing. "What kind of game are you playing, Harper? You've been throwing yourself at me for months, making a fool of yourself at every pack gathering, and now you want to pretend you don't want me?"

The old Harper would have flinched at the public humiliation, would have felt shame burn through her veins like acid. But I'd lived through twenty years of his indifference, had died knowing the truth of his heart. His words couldn't hurt me anymore.

"I'm not playing games," I said quietly, my voice steady as stone. "I'm just finally being honest about what I want."

"And what's that?" The question came out strangled, as if he couldn't quite believe he was asking it.

I smiled then, and I knew it wasn't the sweet, hopeful expression he was used to seeing from me. This smile had teeth.

"When Killian returns from his business trip, you'll understand everything."

The name hit the group like a physical blow. James's laughter died in his throat. Marcus Chen, who'd been filming the whole exchange on his phone, nearly dropped the device. Even Colton took a step back, his face going pale.

"Killian?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't be serious. Harper, that's... that's my uncle. He's dangerous. He's—"

"Exactly what I need," I finished for him.

Before anyone could respond, the soft click of heels on marble announced a new arrival. The scent hit me first—jasmine and vanilla, sickeningly sweet, the perfume I'd once complimented because I'd thought it would make Violet like me more.

"Colton, darling, what's taking so long?"

Violet appeared at his side like she'd materialized from thin air, her perfectly manicured hand sliding possessively up his arm. She was wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in waves that had clearly taken hours to perfect.

In my previous life, Violet had been careful. Subtle. She'd played the role of the supportive friend, the innocent bystander caught up in a tragic love triangle. She'd hidden their relationship behind closed doors, let me play the role of the official fiancée while she enjoyed all the benefits of being Colton's true love.

But seeing her now, pressed against his side with such obvious ownership, I realized something had changed. The timeline was different this time. My rejection had accelerated whatever plans they'd been making.

"Hello, Harper," Violet purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I heard about your little announcement. How... unexpected."

I watched as Colton's arm automatically wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The gesture was so natural, so practiced, that it was clear they'd been doing this for far longer than anyone knew.

"Actually," Colton said, his voice gaining strength as Violet's presence seemed to bolster his confidence, "since you're here, Harper, there's something Violet and I wanted to tell you anyway."

He straightened to his full height, every inch the alpha heir, and I could see the exact moment he decided to go for the killing blow.

"We're going to get our mate marks registered tomorrow," he announced, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent lounge. "I was going to break our engagement privately, but since you've made this whole thing so public..."

He shrugged, the gesture casual and devastating.

In my previous life, this revelation had come two years after our wedding, whispered to me by a pack member who'd thought I already knew. The betrayal had nearly killed me then—literally, as it turned out.

But now? Now I felt nothing but a strange sense of relief, like a weight I'd been carrying for decades had finally been lifted from my shoulders.

"Congratulations," I said simply, and meant it.

The word hung in the air like a challenge. This wasn't how this scene was supposed to play out. I was supposed to cry, to beg, to make a scene that would entertain them for weeks.

Instead, I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit, my steps measured and confident.

"That's it?" Colton called after me, and I could hear the confusion in his voice. "You're just... leaving?"

I paused at the doorway, glancing back over my shoulder at the tableau they made—Colton and Violet wrapped around each other like they were posing for a magazine cover, his friends watching with slack-jawed amazement.

"Enjoy your mate marking," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the marble expanse. "I hope you'll be very happy together."

As I walked out into the afternoon sunlight, I could hear the explosion of voices behind me, everyone talking at once, trying to make sense of what they'd just witnessed.

But I wasn't thinking about them anymore. I was thinking about the conversation I needed to have with my mother, about the phone calls that needed to be made, about the man who would be returning from his business trip in three days.

Killian Ashford was about to get a very interesting proposition.