Chapter 4

I barely slept that night.

By midmorning, my decision was made. I was leaving the Carter Pack forever.

But before I walked away, I needed to give Damon one final, undeniable chance to see the truth. Not because I thought it would save us…it wouldn't…but because I refused to leave with any lingering doubts in my own heart.

I sent a runner to his office: Come to the study. We need to talk.

He arrived twenty minutes later, his face set in an impatient frown. "I'm busy, Nora."

"I know," I said, standing behind the desk. "I won't keep you long."

"What is this about?"

"I need you to look at everything before you say a word."

I laid the evidence out cleanly.

First, the high-resolution photographs of my father's ruined silk scarf, showing the coated silverwood oil marks along the cuts.

Damon barely glanced at them. "You already showed me this."

"Look at the cuts, Damon. That wasn't a wolf shifting in her sleep. That was a silver-coated blade."

Next, I placed printouts of intercepted message logs on the desk. "These are messages between Mirella and her mother, Dana."

Damon's eyes narrowed. He read the lines:

She's becoming suspicious.

Then don't rush her. Keep making her uncomfortable until she breaks, but give her nothing she can prove.

Damon’s jaw tightened. "Where did you get these?"

"I pulled them off the estate's internal crystal network."

"You invaded her privacy?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "You're more concerned about how I got the proof than what the proof actually says?"

He dropped the papers back onto the desk. "These could be forged."

I almost laughed. "Of course. If Mirella does something, it's a forgery. If I defend myself, I'm crazy."

Finally, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small, silver personal recording stone…a standard handheld device used by trade negotiators. I set it on the desk and tapped the activation rune.

Mirella's voice rang through the study, crystal clear:

"Did you see Nora's face at dinner when the wine spilled? She looked like she'd been slapped."

A light laugh, followed by Dana's voice: "Take it slowly. Once she's gone, you'll have Alpha Damon all to yourself."

Silence stretched across the room.

Damon stood completely still. For the first time, a shadow of genuine hesitation crossed his face.

"That's Mirella," I said quietly.

He stared at the small silver stone. "You recorded her."

"I captured it in the corridor outside her rooms."

"You were trapping her."

My heart sank into my boots. "Are you serious? I am giving you physical, proof that she is manipulating this entire pack, and you're blaming me for catching her?"

"You're obsessed, Nora!" Damon snapped, his temper flaring. "You've become completely consumed by jealousy!"

"She planted Evangeline's ashes in my room!" I shouted, my voice finally cracking. "She ruined my father's last gift! She spilled wine on me in front of the entire trade council!"

Damon stepped forward, his eyes flashing amber. "You have always hated Evangeline's memory! You couldn't handle being second!"

There it was.

The fundamental truth.

It didn't matter if I brought him written confessions, silver recordings, or mountain trade contracts. Damon had already decided who I was: the jealous second Luna who could never measure up to a ghost.

"I don't hate her memory," I whispered, my voice going completely cold. "I just wanted a husband who lived in the real world."

Damon reached out and grabbed the silver recording stone off the desk.

"Damon, don't…"

He crushed his fist closed. His Alpha strength shattered the silver casing into fragments, dropping crushed wires and dust onto the floor.

He didn't destroy it because it was fake. He destroyed it because it was inconvenient to his grief.

"I don't need this toxicity in my house," he said heavily.

I looked at the debris on the floor, then up into his eyes. "No," I said softly. "You don't."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm done."

I turned and walked toward the door.

"Nora!" he called out, a strange, sudden panic lacing his voice. "Don't walk away from me!"

I stopped at the doorway without turning around. "You should have chosen the truth when you had the chance."

Just then, Damon received an urgent border dispatch regarding a territorial dispute near the eastern pass. As Alpha, he was forced to ride out immediately. I watched from the upper window as he mounted his black wolf and galloped through the gates with his guard unit.

He didn't even come to say goodbye.

The moment his pack aura faded from the territory borders, I walked to my private desk, pulled out my secondary communication crystal, and activated the private channel.

Ryker’s projection appeared almost instantly. "Nora."

"Alpha Ryker," I said, my voice steady and clear. "Does your offer for Master Cellarer at Solberg Estate still stand?"

Ryker looked at me through the silver light, his gray eyes searching my face. "It stands. Always."

"Then I accept."

A slow, approving nod came from the projection. "I will have a transport unit waiting at the neutral border pass on Monday morning at dawn. Full contract, independent budget, zero interference."

"Thank you, Ryker."

"Don't thank me for recognizing your value, Nora. See you Monday."

The projection dissolved.

Over the next two days, I quietly dispatched my primary trunks through independent trade couriers under my maiden name, shipping them directly to a rented cottage near the Solberg vineyards.

On the final evening before my departure, I walked down to the estate's lower tree line to say goodbye to my father's memorial marker.

I knelt on the damp grass, touching the carved stone. "I'm leaving, Dad," I whispered as the cold autumn wind rustled the pines. "I stayed too long trying to make someone love me. But I'm going to be okay now."

I stood up, wiped a single tear from my cheek, and walked back toward the main gates, ready for dawn.

Behind the stone pillar of the mausoleum, Dana stepped silently out of the shadows. She lowered her communication crystal, a vicious, triumphant smile spreading across her face as she looked at the recorded footage of Nora's tearful goodbye.

Nora thought she was escaping cleanly. She had no idea that her quiet farewell was about to be weaponized against her.