Chapter 51
Violet's POV:
I couldn't contain myself. "Amazing! How did you get that?"
"So get this," Sienna drew out the suspense, clearly savoring her moment. "I created a fake profile on Howl and Hearts—that werewolf dating platform desperate singles use—and made myself into this wealthy Alpha widower. Lonely, grieving, loaded with cash, looking for comfort. The whole package."
"And she practically threw herself at my fake profile. Started calling me 'honey baby' in her next message." Sienna's voice dripped with disgust. "This woman has a system, Violet. The way she mirrors emotions, asks just the right questions—it's calculated."
Sienna Walsh, you're either a genius or completely insane." I exhaled slowly. "But thank you. This gives us leverage—proof that she's running the same scam on multiple men."
"So, what do I get for my stellar detective work?"
"Name it."
"The new Lunar-Tech smartphone. The limited edition one. In silver." There was no hesitation. "And before you say that's too expensive, remember I just saved your family from a blackmailing she-wolf."
"Silver it is," I agreed, taking the exit toward Frost Clinic. "I'll order it tonight with the whole accessory package."
"Alright. Call me if you need anything else—emotional support, more detective work, someone to help you hide a body, whatever."
"I will. And Sienna? Thank you. Really."
"That's what sisters are for, Vi. Now go comfort your mom, and try not to let that bastard husband of yours add to your stress."
We disconnected, and I headed for the clinic.
I pushed the door open quietly and found her propped up against pillows, looking more alert than I'd seen her since the collapse.
"Violet, sweetheart." Her face lit up despite her fatigue. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."
"Where else would I be?" I moved to her bedside, taking her hand gently. "How are you feeling?"
"Just tired. And worried." Her amber eyes searched my face. "Have you eaten today? You look exhausted."
"I'm fine, Mom." The lie came easily. "I've been looking into the situation with Kayla, and I have news. Good news."
Her expression shifted, hope and fear warring across her features. "What kind of news?"
I sat on the edge of her bed, keeping my voice calm. "Kayla isn't pregnant, Mom. The whole thing is a lie designed to extort money from Dad."
The words hung in the air. I watched emotions cascade across my mother's face—disbelief, desperate hope, cautious relief, and then fury.
"Are you certain?" Her grip on my hand tightened. "Violet, if you're just trying to make me feel better—"
"I'm completely certain." I pulled out my phone, showing her the documentation Sienna had sent. "Sienna helped me dig into her background. Kayla has a history of targeting wealthy wolves, creating false pregnancy claims. She's done this before. The pregnancy report was either faked or belongs to someone else."
My mother stared at the evidence, tears streaming down her cheeks. But these tears held relief and vindication.
"That manipulative—" She cut herself off. "She came into our home, showed me those photographs, told me she was carrying my husband's child, and it was all a lie?"
"Every word of it," I confirmed. "The photographs were real, but everything else—the context, the timeline, the supposed pregnancy—manufactured. Dad was right. He was drugged and set up."
Eleanor pressed both palms against her face, shoulders shaking. I rubbed her back gently, letting her process.
After several minutes, she lowered her hands. "What do we do now? We can't let her get away with this."
"We won't," I promised. "But first, we need to tell Dad. He deserves to know you believe him."
My mother nodded. "Call him. Please. I need to apologize for doubting him."
I dialed my father's number. He answered on the first ring.
"Violet? Is your mother—"
"She's fine, Dad. Better than fine. I have news about Kayla. The pregnancy is fake. The whole thing is a scam. Mom wants to talk to you."
The silence was complete, then I heard a sound that might have been a sob or a laugh. "She believes me?"
"I never should have doubted you, Marcus." My mother's voice was stronger now. "I'm so sorry. I let fear cloud my judgment, but our daughter proved what I should have known—you would never betray me."
"Eleanor." My father's voice broke. "I've been going insane, knowing you were hurt and not being able to prove—"
"You don't need to prove anything anymore," my mother interrupted. "Come to the hospital. We need to talk about how to handle Kayla, but more importantly, I need to see you."
They spoke for a few more minutes while I stepped into the hallway. When I returned, my mother looked more peaceful than I'd seen her since the photographs arrived.
"Your father mentioned something important," she said. "The photographs. Even if Kayla's pregnancy claim is false, those images exist. They could still be weaponized against our family."
The observation cut through my relief. She was right—the photographs were real, and they represented blackmail leverage.
"We need to get the originals and any copies," I said. "Kayla won't give them up easily—they're her insurance policy."
I thought about the private investigator's information, about Kayla's mate who never intervened. An idea began forming.
"Let me handle it," I said. "I have resources and connections that might make this easier. Dad needs to focus on pack leadership. You need to focus on recovery. This is something I can do."
My mother studied me with that penetrating gaze. "Violet, confronting someone like Kayla isn't—"
"I'm not the same girl who married Daemon five years ago, Mom." The words came out harder than intended. "I've learned how to navigate complicated situations. Trust me to handle this."
Something shifted in my mother's expression. She squeezed my hand. "Alright. But promise me you'll be careful. And Violet? Thank you for believing in your father when I let fear make me doubt."
"I should let you rest," I said. "Dad will be here soon."
---
The ride back to Blackwood estate passed in a blur. The estate was dark when I arrived, no sign of Daemon's SUV. I made myself pasta and carried it up to the master bedroom.
I ate while organizing the evidence files about Kayla into a coherent digital folder. By the time I finished, it was past ten. I ran a hot bath, letting the massive tub fill while I undressed.
I sank into the water, letting heat seep into my muscles. Steam rose around me. I closed my eyes, trying to empty my mind.
But my thoughts kept circling: how much longer could I maintain this fractured existence? The rejection ceremony was coming—Daemon had agreed—but each day without concrete action felt like another weight on my chest.
The water gradually cooled, and exhaustion caught up with me. My eyes grew heavy.
I forced myself upright and climbed out on shaky legs. I dried off and wrapped myself in the thick bathrobe.
The bedroom was empty when I emerged. I walked to the window and something pulled me toward the balcony. I stepped outside into the December night and stood at the railing.
How many nights had I stood here in my previous life, waiting for Daemon to come home? How many times had I counted streetlights, telling myself he'd arrive any minute?
That Violet had believed love meant waiting, meant making herself smaller. This Violet knew better.
The cold drove me back inside. I climbed into bed and sleep came deep and dreamless.
---
I woke to pale winter sunlight and the realization that it was Christmas Day. Last Christmas, I'd decorated the entire estate, had coordinated gifts, had pretended everything was perfect while Daemon left halfway through dinner.
This Christmas, I couldn't muster the energy to pretend.
I showered and dressed in jeans and a cashmere sweater—nothing fancy. My phone showed several missed texts from friends, but nothing from Daemon.
Sienna had sent a video of herself in a ridiculous reindeer sweater, her family's living room covered in decorations.
"Merry Christmas, bitch! Come over tonight if you need to escape the Blackwood mausoleum. Hot cocoa and terrible Christmas movies, and I promise no one will ask invasive questions about your marriage."
I sent back: Your sweater is an assault on good taste. I love it. Might take you up on the escape plan.
Around noon, my phone rang with an unknown number.
"Violet Blackwood?" A smooth female voice.
"Speaking."
"This is Harper Mills from Silver Pine Bar. We're hosting a special Christmas event tonight—December 25th. Complimentary bottle service, reserved seating, and we're featuring male entertainers."
I blinked. "Male entertainers?"
"Yes, ma'am. Professional dancers, very tasteful. We thought it might be fun for you and your friends."
"I'll think about it."
"Wonderful! I'll text you the details."
She disconnected, leaving me staring at my phone. Then the group chat lit up:
Sienna: OMG did you guys get that call from Silver Pine??
Lily: YES! Are we going?
Jade: I already confirmed for all of us. Christmas present to ourselves.
Sienna: Violet, you better say yes. After the year you've had, you deserve to see some hot men take their clothes off.
I found myself almost smiling.
Alright, I'm in. But if anyone takes photos, I will destroy your phone.
Sienna: Deal. This is going to be AMAZING.