Chapter 2 · The Wolf's Scorned Bride

Selena called out from behind me, "Leave the keys."

I set the keys on the counter, opened the door, and walked out.

As I stepped into the elevator, my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification.

Selena had posted something new. In the photo, she was curled up on Damian's couch, wearing my mom's necklace. The caption read: [Sweet home].

Damian was the first to hit like.

*****

My mom's funeral was at a cemetery on the outskirts of Northfeld. The September wind was chilly, and I stood there by myself in front of her tombstone.

Joanna was stuck on a business trip in Paronia and couldn't come.

She spent twenty minutes on the phone tearing into Damian and then ended the call. It was still only me here at the grave.

I crouched down and placed a white rose in front of the tombstone. "Mom, I'm sorry."

I was sorry I didn't make it back to my mom in time and couldn't get there faster in those forty minutes.

Three years ago, the day we signed the contract, Damian handed me a hot latte. "If you need anything, talk to Marcus."

I thought that latte was his way of showing he cared.

More than a thousand days went by, but Damian never handed me another cup.

My phone rang. It was an unknown number. "Is this Mrs. Reynolds? I'm Marcus, Mr. Reynolds's assistant. He sent me to give you something. I'm waiting at the cemetery entrance."

I walked to the gate. A black SUV was parked at the curb. Marcus stood beside it, holding a kraft envelope.

"Mr. Reynolds said," Marcus paused, "this is the funeral payout, as stated in the contract's additional provisions."

I opened the envelope. Inside was a check for 200 thousand dollars. Damian's messy, flashy handwriting scrawled across the bottom-left corner.

"Damian didn't come?" I asked.

Marcus shifted to one side. "Ms. Wolfe isn't feeling well today, so Mr. Reynolds is staying home with her."

On the day my mom was laid to rest, Damian was at home with another woman.

Last month, the first day Selena came back to Northfeld, Damian dropped 300 thousand dollars at Hermès.

The bank notification popped up on my phone. Back then, I was still his wife, legally.

To Damian, my mom's life wasn't even worth as much as a designer bag.

"Marcus, tell Damian I'll take the check. I'll think of it as him buying my mom a nice coffin," I said.

Marcus lowered his head and got into the car.

I walked back to the tombstone and tore the check into pieces. The scraps fell to the ground, and the wind scattered a few of them.

My mom's biggest fear was that I'd end up marrying into the wolf pack.

Six years ago, she warned me, "Never get close to anyone from the Reynolds family. They'll swallow you whole."

But I didn't obey her.

I thought my mom was right.

As I stood up, I spotted an old lady sitting on a bench at the back of the cemetery.

Her hair was streaked with gray. She wore all black, hunched over, and kept glancing my way.

The moment our eyes met, she gently nodded at me.

I froze for a second, and she was already walking away with her cane.

There was a business card left on the bench. It was solid black, with a silver totem right in the middle: a wolf biting its own tail.

On the back was a line of handwriting: [Freya Fenris.]

Fenris was my mom's previous surname. She never talked about her original family.

I kept turning the card over and over in my hands, my fingers trembling.

The cemetery's iron gate creaked in the wind. The old lady was already gone.

My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Selena updated her story.

In the video, she was lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. Damian sat beside her, flipping through some papers. The caption read: [Weekends at home are the best kind of relaxation.]

Chapter 2

Selena called out from behind me, "Leave the keys."

I set the keys on the counter, opened the door, and walked out.

As I stepped into the elevator, my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification.

Selena had posted something new. In the photo, she was curled up on Damian's couch, wearing my mom's necklace. The caption read: [Sweet home].

Damian was the first to hit like.

*****

My mom's funeral was at a cemetery on the outskirts of Northfeld. The September wind was chilly, and I stood there by myself in front of her tombstone.

Joanna was stuck on a business trip in Paronia and couldn't come.

She spent twenty minutes on the phone tearing into Damian and then ended the call. It was still only me here at the grave.

I crouched down and placed a white rose in front of the tombstone. "Mom, I'm sorry."

I was sorry I didn't make it back to my mom in time and couldn't get there faster in those forty minutes.

Three years ago, the day we signed the contract, Damian handed me a hot latte. "If you need anything, talk to Marcus."

I thought that latte was his way of showing he cared.

More than a thousand days went by, but Damian never handed me another cup.

My phone rang. It was an unknown number. "Is this Mrs. Reynolds? I'm Marcus, Mr. Reynolds's assistant. He sent me to give you something. I'm waiting at the cemetery entrance."

I walked to the gate. A black SUV was parked at the curb. Marcus stood beside it, holding a kraft envelope.

"Mr. Reynolds said," Marcus paused, "this is the funeral payout, as stated in the contract's additional provisions."

I opened the envelope. Inside was a check for 200 thousand dollars. Damian's messy, flashy handwriting scrawled across the bottom-left corner.

"Damian didn't come?" I asked.

Marcus shifted to one side. "Ms. Wolfe isn't feeling well today, so Mr. Reynolds is staying home with her."

On the day my mom was laid to rest, Damian was at home with another woman.

Last month, the first day Selena came back to Northfeld, Damian dropped 300 thousand dollars at Hermès.

The bank notification popped up on my phone. Back then, I was still his wife, legally.

To Damian, my mom's life wasn't even worth as much as a designer bag.

"Marcus, tell Damian I'll take the check. I'll think of it as him buying my mom a nice coffin," I said.

Marcus lowered his head and got into the car.

I walked back to the tombstone and tore the check into pieces. The scraps fell to the ground, and the wind scattered a few of them.

My mom's biggest fear was that I'd end up marrying into the wolf pack.

Six years ago, she warned me, "Never get close to anyone from the Reynolds family. They'll swallow you whole."

But I didn't obey her.

I thought my mom was right.

As I stood up, I spotted an old lady sitting on a bench at the back of the cemetery.

Her hair was streaked with gray. She wore all black, hunched over, and kept glancing my way.

The moment our eyes met, she gently nodded at me.

I froze for a second, and she was already walking away with her cane.

There was a business card left on the bench. It was solid black, with a silver totem right in the middle: a wolf biting its own tail.

On the back was a line of handwriting: [Freya Fenris.]

Fenris was my mom's previous surname. She never talked about her original family.

I kept turning the card over and over in my hands, my fingers trembling.

The cemetery's iron gate creaked in the wind. The old lady was already gone.

My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Selena updated her story.

In the video, she was lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. Damian sat beside her, flipping through some papers. The caption read: [Weekends at home are the best kind of relaxation.]