"We have copies of every single document you filed for the pack dissolution. The original petition. The notice of intent. The final dissolution papers. The confirmation of filing. All with timestamps and verification codes. We have copies of all threepack lawyers' consultations where they each independently verified everything was legal and proper."
I continue listing.
"We have the signed dissolution agreement with Kael's signature—which we had verified by a professional handwriting expert who will testify it's authentic. Testimony from multiple witnesses who heard him mock you publicly about leaving. Recordings of him telling people he was glad to be rid of you. Social media posts from that time period bragging about being free."
Her eyes widen slightly.
She didn't know we'd been gathering all of this. Didn't know how thorough we'd been.
Theo and I spent weeks on this. Late nights going through documentation. Making calls. Verifying sources. Building an ironclad case. Because we knew. Knew someone would try something. Knew her past wouldn't stay buried. Knew we needed to be ready to defend her.
"We have enough evidence and documentation to not just defend you, but to completely destroy his credibility," I say seriously. "To prove beyond any doubt that he's lying. To make him look like the vindictive ex-Alpha trying to punish his former Omega for daring to be happy without him."
I hold her gaze.
"But this confrontation with Charlotte needs to happen first. We need him to commit to his lie publicly and officially. Need him to make his accusations in front of witnesses. Need him to file his fraudulent lawsuit with the courts. Need him to go all-in with whatever fake claim he's making about you still being bound to his pack.The bigger and more elaborate his lies become, the more official he tries to make it, the more witnesses he brings, the harder he'll fall when we systematically prove every single word is false," I explain. "If we shut him downimmediately, he can backtrack. Claim misunderstanding. Save face. But if we let him commit fully first? He can't take it back. Can't claim it was a mistake. He's trapped by his own lies."
That's the key.
Let him dig his own grave. Let him make it deep. Let him climb in voluntarily.
Then we bury him.
She frowns, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
"What if everyone finds out? About the lawsuit? On social media? I'll get massive backlash. People will think I'm a liar or that I trapped you guys or that everything was fake. I'll lose the brand deals. Lose everything I built."
I study her face carefully.
"Do you need the money? From the brand deals?"
She thinks about it. Really genuinely considers the question instead of answering reflexively or saying what she thinks I want to hear. Her practical side engaging. Her business mind calculating numbers and security.
She doesn't need it.
Not financially. Not for survival.
We take complete care of her.
She has full access to pack accounts. Can buy anything she wants or needs. She's made substantial money from the brand deals already—more than enough to be comfortable and independent even if everything stopped tomorrow and she never made another dollar. The pack contract alone gave her security and stability. A guaranteed income regardless of social media. The social media success was always bonus income. Nice to have but not necessary for survival.
She could lose every single brand deal, lose every sponsorship and every follower, and she'd still be fine. Still be secure. Still be provided for. Because we provide for her.
She's ours, after all.
She slowly shakes her head, decision made.
"No. I don't need it at all. You guys take care of me completely. More than I ever expected or needed. And I've already made more money from the social media and brand deals than I ever imagined I would in my entire life. More than enough to feel secure and independent if I ever needed to be."
Good. That's the right answer. The honest answer. She's thinking clearly now. She's coming back to herself.
"Then why does it matter what anonymous strangers think?" I ask gently but pointedly. "Those people online…most of them don't actually care about you the way the people in this town genuinely do. They don't know you personally. Don't see you at community events doing good things. Don't interact with you face to face and see your character. They're just consuming content and forming opinions based on incomplete information."
I lean in slightly, making sure she's really hearing me.
"Sure, Oakridge gossips. God knows everyone talks. The rumor mill never stops turning. But they know real facts versus manufactured online drama. They see you at the gingerbread competition winning first place fairly through skill. They taste your incredible baking and recognize talent. They watch you interact genuinely and kindly with everyone. They know your character. They know you're authentic."
And they do know.
