LADY OF THE HOUSE
Freya
There’s nothing crueler than watching yourself fade while the world keeps clapping. One day you wake up, and you’re still in your home—but your reflection belongs to someone else.
Before I’d even drawn my first breath, my fate was decided. I was to be Kade Thorne’s bride. And the Luna of Silvercrest.
For the last ten years, I carried that title with pride. I gave the Alpha my counsel, my strength, and two children. I thought that was enough. But then, I lost everything.
I lost my mate’s love. I lost my children’s voices calling meMama.
And tonight, I stand in my own house as a ghost, while another woman takes my place.
My pack members surround me, among other guests, who have arrived for this year’s Masquerade ball, laughing anddrinking, adorned in silks and masks. I stand apart in a corner with a stiff smile, my hands becoming colder by the second.
My husband rises on the dais. His mask is black as night, carved with silver edges to match the onyx robe he’s chosen for tonight. As he speaks, the laughter and gossip fade into silence.
“Tonight, on the occasion of the annual Masquerade Ball, in honor of Silvercrest’s founding and another year of strength, I present to you the lady who has stood beside me.”
His hand finds Izel’s. Her ivory gown, heavy with pearls, has an unnatural shine. She steps forward, her chin lifted, face adorned with a cloying smile.
“Lady Izel,” Kade says, “from this day, you are the lady of this house.”
The crowd gasps first, then someone begins to applaud, and the others follow. Wolves howl in approval, trembling the very earth beneath us. I stand still. My nails dig into my palms, drawing blood.
A councilman near me leans close. “At last,” he mutters, pretending to be subtle and yet his voice is loud and clear enough for me to hear. “The Alpha makes it official.”
Another nods. “She carries herself well. Such grace! And that divine smile… The pack will accept her.”
“She is not the Luna,” I say with gritted teeth, unable to remain silent anymore.
The first man chuckles, taunting, “Perhaps not. But she looks the part, Freya.”
I force a smile. “Looks can lie.”
“And truth doesn’t take long to be rewritten.”
I bite back a curse. If the Alpha himself does not respect his wife and outright treats her like shit, why should others keep their bitter words hidden?
On the dais, Izel bows gracefully. When she rises, her gaze skims the hall until it reaches me. The sweet smile on her facetakes on a venomous edge, her brown eyes sparking with open challenge—until something else takes her attention away.
“Finn! Ivy!” she calls out brightly and kneels, opening her arms.
My children break from the crowd. Their small feet patter across marble as they run to her, arms outstretched.
“Mama!” Ivy, my three-year-old daughter, cries.
Izel gathers them close. She kisses Ivy’s cheek, ruffles Finn’s hair. She acts like they have always belonged to her. They giggle softly and she laughs with them. The sounds split my heart open and pokes it with glass shards at the same time. They’remychildren, but they think Izel’s their mother.
When did that happen?Whydid it happen? And why did Iletit happen?
The guests stop pretending to be discreet.
“They call IzelMama.”
“PoorFreya.”
“No wonder the Alpha chose differently.”
