"Well, yeah." She fidgets with her purse strap, not meeting our eyes. Embarrassed. "That's why I'm not really rich anymore. Not that I was super wealthy or anything, but I had loads of savings accumulated over years. You know? Inheritance from my grandparents who left me some money. And I did well for myself before the pack—not social media wise, that came later when I needed extra income, but other hobbies and a semi-successful career."
Inheritance from her grandparents. Money they probably left her specifically to take care of herself. To give her security and options. And her pack took it. Used it. Drained her savings until she had nothing left.
"What kind of career?" I ask, genuinely curious now.
"Art, crafts, and design." There's wistfulness in her voice. Pride mixed with sadness and longing for something lost. "I wanted to be a fashion designer at one point. Had this whole business plan mapped out. I'd design clothes—nothing crazy fancy, just beautiful pieces that made people feel good about themselves. And I'd bake themed cookies that I'd sell at the shows depending on the season."
She's animated again, hands gesturing as she describes her dream.
"Spring florals with flower-shaped cookies decorated to match the collection. Fall collections with pumpkin spice cookies and maple leaf designs. Winter whites with snowflake sugar cookies. I had suppliers lined up. A small boutique in the city wanted to carry my designs on consignment. It was actually happening."
That's brilliant. Creative and practical.
The kind of unique business idea that could have really taken off with the right support and marketing. She could have been successful. Should have been successful. Built something amazing for herself.
What happened?
I already know the answer but I need to hear it confirmed.
"It all went down the toilet when my savings were used on Kael and his pack," she continues matter-of-factly. "They needed money for investments, gambling, or something. I don't really know. Omegas don't get the privilege to know the details, so."
They took her inheritance.
Her savings.
Everything she'd worked for.
Used it for their own purposes without telling her what it was for.
And she just... accepted it.
Because that's what she thought being in a pack meant.
I exchange looks with Grayson and Theo. We're all thinking the same thing.
That shit isn't happening with us. Never.
Jeremy returns, picking up the check folder. He looks at the three cards inside and—because the universe has a sense of humor—picks the top one.
Mine.
Grayson and Theo both groan. I can't help but smirk.
"Better luck next time," I tell them.
"There's always dinner," Grayson mutters.
While Jeremy processes my card, I turn to Reverie. Make sure she's looking at me. Understanding what I'm about to say.
"You don't need to worry about food or anything else in our company," I say firmly. "Not meals, not bills, not any of it. That's not how this works."
Her eyes get suspiciously shiny.
"But—"
"No buts," Theo interrupts. "We'll help you pack your things. By the weekend, you'll be moved in with us temporarily so we can get the renovations started as soon as possible."
"And you don't need to worry about the renovation costs either," Grayson adds. "We're handling that."
