chapter 166
Charlotte's POV:
I stood beside the conference table in William's office, watching Susan flip through the energy projection charts with her characteristic precision.
The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows across the polished mahogany surface.
"The lunar phase alignment creates optimal conditions for cross-pack energy sharing," I explained, pointing to the highlighted sections. "If Shepherd Pack and Sullivan Pack coordinate our resources during the waxing moon periods—"
A sharp knock interrupted my presentation.
William looked up, surprise flickering across his face. "Come in."
The door swung open, and Olivia swept into the room, her face absolutely radiant.
I'd never seen her look so... joyful.
Her silver-white hair seemed to glow in the morning light, and her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. She moved with the energy of someone bursting to share wonderful news.
What on earth could make Olivia look like that?
My curiosity sharpened immediately. Oliviawas always composed, always controlled. This unguarded happiness was completely out of character.
"William," she began, her voice bright with enthusiasm, "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I simply had to—"
Then she saw us.
Her expression transformed in an instant. The radiant joy vanished behind a mask of polite courtesy, and I watched her physically pull back, as if tucking away whatever news she'd been about to share.
Damn it. Whatever it was, she clearly wasn't going to reveal it in front of Susan and me.
I immediately rose with a welcoming smile, unable to contain my curiosity. "Olivia, what wonderful news has you looking so happy?"
Olivia's gaze flickered to me briefly before she smoothly redirected the conversation.
"Charlotte, dear, how are you managing with the cross-pack energy project? Getting familiar with all the complexities?"
The question hit a nerve, and I felt my expression darken despite my best efforts to maintain composure.
Ever since William had begun grooming me for a leadership role, the resistance had been relentless.
The Sullivan Pack's board members opposed me on multiple fronts: fear that I'd eventually merge their interests with Shepherd Pack's agenda, resentment over my lack of direct bloodline connection to William, and Betty Howard's constant sabotage behind the scenes.
Every project I'd tried to launch had stalled before it could properly begin.
William had been clear—he wouldn't intervene this time. He wanted me to prove myself through my own merit, to force those old foxes on the board to accept me through results rather than nepotism.
Only by overcoming these obstacles myself would they truly recognize my worth.
"The project coordination has been... challenging," I admitted carefully, aware of Susan's sharp gaze on me. "Managing both Shepherd Pack's internal affairs and this cross-pack initiative requires significant attention to detail."
"You must be exhausted," Olivia continued, her tone shifting to something almost maternal. "Juggling Shepherd Pack's internal affairs while also managing this cross-pack collaboration? That's quite a burden for one person to carry."
The words felt like silk wrapped around steel. On the surface, concern. Underneath, a pointed observation.
"I manage," I said carefully, though my pulse quickened.
Was this a test? A warning?
"Perhaps the workload is... excessive? In fact, Charlotte, you look like you're being pulled in too many directions at once. Perhaps you should focus your energy on Shepherd Pack's core interests? The cross-pack project can wait."
I froze. "Olivia?"
It had taken everything—late nights poring over lunar phase calculations, countless meetings with Sullivan Pack's technical teams, carefully navigated conversations with resistant board members—just to get William to see me as more than a convenient outsider. To see me as someone worthy of grooming for leadership.
And now Olivia, with a few gentle words wrapped in grandmotherly concern, was suggesting I step back?
She's marginalizing me. The realization hit with stunning clarity.
"Don't misunderstand, dear," Olivia continued, her tone warm but firm. "I'm only concerned for your wellbeing. You've lost weight recently—anyone can see you're overextending yourself."
My fingers curled into my palms beneath the table.
Olivia had previously seemed neutral about William's decision to mentor me, neither supporting nor opposing it openly. This sudden intervention meant something had changed.
But what?
Before I could formulate a response, Olivia turned her attention to Susan.
"What do you think, Susan? Surely you'd prefer Charlotte's full attention on Shepherd Pack affairs?"
Susan's response was immediate and cold. "The cross-pack project is Sullivan Pack business. As an outsider, I have no authority to interfere."
The word "outsider" hung in the air like a blade.
William opened his mouth to speak, but Olivia's warning glance silenced him immediately.
The power dynamics in the room were suddenly, painfully clear.
By two o'clock, Susan and I were leaving the Institute together.
I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white as I navigated through Moonhaven's afternoon traffic.
"Why didn't you speak up for me?" The question burst out before I could stop it.
Susan sat in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on something outside the window. "Speak up for what, exactly?"
"In there. With Olivia. With William." My voice cracked slightly. "If you'd said something—anything—William would have listened to you. He always listens to you."
"Charlotte." Susan's tone was flat.
She sat in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed downward on her legs.
I knew she'd been doing rehabilitation therapy, continuing it religiously since returning to Moonhaven center. She could now stand and walk a few steps. It was only a matter of time before she fully recovered.
After a long pause, she looked up, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
"If it were Shepherd Pack property, I could speak up for you."
The implication was clear: But Sullivan Pack business is not my concern. And neither, truly, are you.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring at the road ahead as darkness crept into my vision—not from the fading light, but from the rage building inside me.
That damned old woman. With a few carefully chosen words, Olivia had shattered everything I'd worked so hard to build.
Everything I'd sacrificed for.
My hand unconsciously moved to my shoulder, where beneath the fabric lay the ugly, twisted scars—a permanent reminder of what I'd endured to earn William's trust.
I'd orchestrated that "accident" so carefully, positioning myself to be burned while "protecting" Susan. The scalding liquid had seared my skin, and I'd deliberately let the wound fester, refusing proper treatment to deepen Susan's guilt and William's gratitude.
The scars were hideous, sprawling across my shoulder and upper back like some grotesque map of my desperation. Every time I caught sight of them in the mirror, nausea rose in my throat.
All of that pain. All of that sacrifice. And she dismisses me with a smile and a suggestion to "focus on Shepherd Pack."
The unfairness of it all pressed down on me like a physical weight.
If only I were William and Susan's biological daughter. If only I carried their bloodline, their legitimacy. If only I were truly theirs, I thought bitterly, none of this would be happening.
But I wasn't. I would never be.
And that single, unchangeable fact colored every interaction, every achievement, every desperate attempt to prove my worth.