Chapter 2
The charity gala was exactly what Alpha Andrew needed.
A room full of wealthy pack leaders, cameras, reporters, and people willing to believe whatever image we gave them.
The moment we stepped onto the red carpet, Andrew's hand found my waist.
His touch was practiced. His fingers spread just enough to claim me without hurting me, while his Alpha presence settled over the crowd like another part of the image we were expected to maintain.
My wolf reacted to the contact automatically, recognizing the presence of my Alpha even when my heart no longer wanted to.
Cameras flashed.
“Mr. Blackthorn! Samantha! Over here!”
Andrew leaned closer.
“Smile,” he murmured. “Let them see how happy we are.”
I turned toward the cameras and smiled.
My cheeks already hurt.
To everyone watching, we were the perfect billionaire couple, standing together after the recent scandal as if nothing had happened.
My wolf hated the performance.
She could sense the tension beneath Andrew's calm expression, the controlled irritation in his scent, and the subtle tightening of his grip.
I kept smiling.
“Beautiful couple!” someone shouted.
Andrew's thumb pressed lightly against my side. I leaned closer, playing my part, we looked perfect, untouchable, and in love to everyone watching, even though none of it was real.
“Mr. Blackthorn, look this way!”
Another round of flashes followed as Andrew smiled effortlessly, and I did the same.
Behind us, Elliot walked onto the carpet with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
His jacket was deliberately rumpled, his dark hair messy, and his expression bored.
Elliot was younger than Andrew, but he was an Alpha in his own right. His wolf was always close beneath the surface, alert to every movement around him.
A photographer called his name.
Elliot looked directly at the cameras and rolled his eyes, making several photographers laugh as the flash caught his obvious sneer, and I closed my eyes for half a second because, of course, inside the ballroom, everything was easier to fake.
Crystal chandeliers hung above the crowd. Candlelight reflected off polished tables while music filled the room.
Andrew played the devoted husband perfectly.
He leaned toward me whenever someone approached, murmured things that sounded like private jokes, and brushed an invisible piece of lint from my shoulder.
When we moved between tables, his hand remained at my back.
His Alpha presence was controlled enough that ordinary guests would never notice it, but my wolf did.
She noticed everything, from the slight change in his scent whenever someone stood too close to me to the way his attention followed anyone who approached us. She could sense the Alpha authority beneath his polished public smile.
When a donor complimented our marriage, Andrew simply smiled.
“She keeps me out of trouble,” he said.
Everyone laughed, and so did I, but the applause that followed wasn't for us. It was for the perfect illusion we had created.
By the time we left the gala, my face hurt from smiling.
The next morning, I woke up to another headline.
ANDREW BLACKTHORN AND WIFE: A MARRIAGE IN NAME ONLY
I stared at the screen.
The photograph under it showed Andrew's arm around my waist, both of us smiling perfectly for the cameras.
Beside us stood Elliot, caught mid-eye-roll, his hands buried in his pockets.
The article picked apart everything, from our expressions and body language to the way Andrew kept his hand on my waist.
They pointed out the distance between us whenever the cameras stopped, with anonymous sources claiming we barely spoke at home and even slept in separate bedrooms.
I read the article twice.
My hands didn't shake.
My wolf paced beneath my skin, irritated by the humiliation but more irritated by the fact that Elliot had become part of the story.
His side of the bed was already cold when I woke, with only the faint scent of his cologne lingering behind. I made myself coffee and spent the morning answering calls from PR. By afternoon, I had dealt with enough reporters to last a lifetime.
Then Elliot appeared in the foyer.
His wolf was unusually quiet, but I could still sense his discomfort before he spoke.
He stood there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, looking everywhere except at me.
“Hey.” I looked at him.
“You got a minute?”
I said nothing. He cleared his throat.
“About last night. About the gala.”
His eyes dropped to the floor.
“I screwed up.”
That caught my attention.
He continued before I could respond.
“I know those photos made things worse for you. I didn't think.”
“Didn't think,” I repeated, “or didn't care?”
His jaw tightened.
“Both, maybe.”
He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I was pissed at Andrew. At all of this.” He gestured around the penthouse.
“But you're the one who gets burned, and that wasn't fair.”
He finally looked at me.
“So... I'm sorry.”
The words hung between us, and I couldn't remember the last time anyone in the Blackthorn family had sincerely apologized to me without expecting something in return.
My wolf studied him carefully, finding no aggression or challenge in his scent, only embarrassment and genuine re
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.” His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“If you need me to talk to any of those vultures, just say the word.”
I almost smiled.
“I think I can handle it.”
He gave a small nod, then turned toward the door, but before leaving, he glanced back at me with worry in his eyes, not pity.
The door closed behind him.
For a moment, I wondered if I was completely alone in this family, but the thought vanished when Janet called again that afternoon.
“There are already questions about Andrew and Sienna.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there are.” I said almost a whisper.
“I need you to come by his office. We have another statement to prepare.”
“I'll be there.”
I grabbed my laptop and headed to the office.
The executive floor was quieter than usual, and my wolf caught Andrew’s scent before I reached his door, followed by another familiar scent that made me stop.
Sienna.
The door was slightly open, and I could hear their low voices inside, though I couldn't make out the words, so I pushed it open and found Andrew standing near his desk with Sienna in front of him.
Sienna’s fingers rested on Andrew’s tie, her face close to his chest, and both of them froze when they saw me.
My wolf reacted instantly, anger burning through me and urging me to defend my place as Luna, but I forced it down because I was not his mate and never had been.
My position beside Andrew came from the marriage we had chosen, not a bond neither of us could break.
I looked at Andrew’s tie, then at Sienna, before meeting his eyes again. A hundred questions came to mind, but instead, I simply stepped back.
“Sorry,” I said calmly. “I didn't realize you were busy.”
Andrew opened his mouth.
“Samantha-”
But I didn't pay attention.
I acted like I hadn't heard him and closed the door without a confrontation, accusation, or tear, then walked to the conference room, opened my laptop, and started working on the next statement.
That was my job, to control the damage, protect the image, and keep the marriage intact for everyone watching, even when my wolf and I both knew the truth.