And in that moment, I felt loneliness creep in. My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall until I sat on the cold floorboards, arms wrapped tight around my ribs as if I could hold the breaking pieces together. The tears came silently at first, then in choking, soundless sobs that shook my whole frame. Each breath dragged in the scent of medicinal herbs and the faint cedar smell of Uncle Asher’s cologne. The grief came in waves—Mama’s laugh echoing in akitchen that no longer existed, Uncle Asher’s hand ruffling my hair the night he taught me to read the stars. Gone. Both gone.
I’d lost my mother and the man who cared for me like a father would. Now I was left in the care of his ex-wife and son, who all but hated me.
Chapter One
Isabella’s POV
Seven Years Later
My phone buzzed at 7:30 AM with a text from Marcus Chen, the head of Business Development at Ravencrest Global and my immediate supervisor:
You better not be late for the presentation, or I’m going to personally fire your ass, no matter what Bancroft thinks.
And good morning to you, too, asshole. I said in my head, dreading yet another day I would have to face my problematic supervisor.
I stared at the framed diploma on my nightstand—Summa Cum Laude, Business Administration—and felt nothing. I didn’t feel a sense of accomplishment, just the bone-deep exhaustion of someone who’d fought for everything they had.
The Ravencrest name had opened doors. The finest prep school, an Ivy League education, opportunities most wolf shifters could only dream of. But every door came with a price tag written in blood: charity case, bastard child, the whore’s daughter.
I could still hear their voices in my head, like permanent ink etched into my skull.
“Must be nice getting everything handed to you.”
“I heard she’s not really a Ravencrest. That she’s just some stray Dimitri’s father felt sorry for.”
“Charity project.”
By senior year of high school, Charity Project had become my nickname. The popular wolf shifters whispered it loud enough for me to hear, wrote it on my locker, made sure I never forgot exactly what I was: an obligation. A burden. A debt being reluctantly repaid.
My alarm beeped, dragging me out of my thoughts. 7:45 AM.
Shit.
I threw on some makeup to hide my pale, hollow face, grabbed my nearly worn-out blazer and my one-size-fits-all bag, and dashed out of my room in the arctic wasteland that was the third floor of Ravencrest mansion.
Make no mistake—I was no Cinderella. Not even remotely close. And I didn’t believe in the fantasy of finding a prince charming. Not because I didn’t want to, but because people like me didn’t dare to dream of that kind of life.
I wasn’t running because I was late for work—that didn’t start until nine, and Ravencrest Global was only thirty minutes away at most. I was running because breakfast in the mansion was at eight, and the last thing I wanted was to share a room with Maia Ravencrest.
Or Dimitri.
I’d spent the last seven years like a ghost in this mansion. The insults and constant reminders that I was a bastard child, unwanted and barely tolerated, still came regularly. But I’d learned to avoid situations that invited them. Which meant skipping breakfast, lunch, dinner—anything that would put the three of us in the same room.
I made it down the grand staircase and straight to the dining room. Empty. Thank God.
I didn’t need to survey the array of foods to know what I’d stuff into my mouth. Bacon and pancakes. And coffee, obviously.
I checked my watch. 7:56 AM. Four minutes to eat and get out.
I shoved a full pancake into my mouth, threw in some bacon, and tried to flush it down with lukewarm coffee. I might choke to death, but honestly, that seemed preferable to any interaction with Maia.
I was munching so loudly—etiquette be damned—that I didn’t hear the door open.
“What are you doing?”
I froze mid-chew.
That wasn’t Maia. That was Dimitri.
