Chapter 78
Violet's POV:
The slap echoed in the quiet street like a gunshot, sharp and final. Linda's hand hung in the air for a moment before dropping to her side, trembling. Daemon's face turned sharply to the left from the impact, a vivid red handprint blooming across his cheek. He didn't move, didn't flinch, just stood there absorbing the blow like he'd been expecting it all along.
"That's for Aurora," Linda's voice cracked, raw with years of suppressed rage. Her entire body shook as she stared at him with eyes that held nothing but pure, concentrated hatred. "My sister. The one you destroyed."
The words hit me harder than the slap itself. Aurora. Linda's sister. The pieces I'd been unconsciously collecting over the past few days suddenly snapped into place with brutal clarity. Linda's visceral reaction to men, her bitterness when discussing werewolf politics, the deep-seated anger that seemed to simmer just beneath her professional exterior. It all made sense now.
"She left a note before she killed herself," Linda continued, her voice dropping to something cold and deadly. "Do you know what it said? She begged me not to go after you. Said it wasn't your fault, that she made her own choices. Even dying, she was protecting you."
Daemon's jaw tightened, the only visible sign of emotion on his otherwise stone-like face. His blood-red eyes remained fixed on some point beyond Linda's shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
"But I can't do it," Linda's laugh was bitter, broken. "I can't let it go. Not when you're still walking around like nothing happened, while she's been dead for five years."
I stood frozen, my hand instinctively moving to cover my still-flat stomach. The baby inside me stirred slightly, as if sensing the tension radiating through my body. This was Aurora's sister. The woman I'd been sharing a hotel room with, working alongside for days, was the sister of Daemon's dead first love.
Linda's eyes suddenly shifted to me, and I saw the hatred there multiply, redirecting some of its venom in my direction. "And you," she spat. "Did you know? When you married him, did you know he had someone he loved? Someone he drove to suicide?"
"No." The word came out steady, calmer than I felt. "I didn't know about Aurora until recently. And her death has nothing to do with me."
"Nothing to do with you?" Linda's voice rose, drawing the attention of a few hotel staff members who quickly looked away. "You married him! You became his Luna! You helped him bury what he did to her!"
"I was as much a victim of this marriage as Aurora was," I said quietly, meeting her eyes directly. "Whatever happened between them, whatever guilt Daemon carries, it's not mine to bear. I've spent five years paying for choices that weren't mine to make."
Linda's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looked like she wanted to hit me too, to transfer some of that consuming rage onto a living target she could actually hurt. But something in my steady gaze must have given her pause.
"I don't want any part of this anymore, Linda." I took a deliberate breath, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into my bones. The pregnancy was making everything harder, every emotion more intense, every confrontation more draining. "I'm done being dragged into other people's past. This ends here."
I turned toward the hotel entrance, needing to get away before the nausea building in my stomach became impossible to hide.
The suite door opened an hour later, and Linda entered. Her eyes were swollen and red, mascara tracks still visible on her cheeks despite obvious attempts to wash them away. She looked at me briefly, her expression unreadable, then walked straight to her bedroom and closed the door with a quiet click that felt louder than a slam.
---
The next morning came too soon. I woke to find Linda already dressed in her business suit, her face carefully composed into a professional mask. The red-rimmed eyes from last night were hidden behind expertly applied makeup.
"We need to talk about last night," I said as she reached for her laptop bag.
She paused, her shoulders stiffening. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Linda, I understand you're angry, but we still have to work together. We can't—"
"You already got what you wanted, didn't you?" She turned to face me, and I saw the bitter resentment still burning there. "You were his Luna. You had the position, the title, all of it."
"Had," I emphasized, standing despite the wave of morning sickness making my head spin. "Daemon and I completed the rejection ceremony. We're not mates anymore. I left Frost Pack territory specifically to get away from him."
Linda's expression flickered with surprise, then something more complicated. Confusion maybe, or suspicion. "Then why were you defending him last night?"
"I wasn't defending him. I was defending myself." I fought down the urge to vomit, breathing slowly through my nose. "I'm just trying to explain that I'm not your enemy. What happened to Aurora was a tragedy, but I can't let you punish me for something I had no part in."
The silence between us stretched tight as a wire. Linda's jaw worked as she processed my words, her hands gripping her laptop bag until her knuckles went white.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice cold and clipped. "We'll keep this professional. The contract needs to be finalized by Friday, so we stick to business only. Don't expect me to be friendly about it."
It wasn't forgiveness, wasn't even really acceptance, but it was something. A temporary truce born of professional necessity.
"I can work with that," I replied.
---
The flight back to Silver Ridge was mercifully uneventful. Linda sat in the seat beside me, headphones in, deliberately ignoring my existence. I was too tired to be offended.
Aiden met us at headquarters with warm handshakes and genuine praise. "Excellent work, both of you. The G City contract is going to be huge for our expansion plans."
"Thank you," I managed, fighting down another wave of nausea.
"Violet, I need you to take these documents down to marketing," Aiden said, handing me a thick folder. "They're working on the promotional materials for the new product line."
The walk to the marketing department took longer than usual—I had to stop twice to let waves of dizziness pass—but I made it eventually. The marketing floor was buzzing with activity, young employees clustered around computer screens, debating color schemes and taglines.
"Oh, Ms. Goldcrest! Have you met our new livestream hosts yet?" one of the younger staff members called out. "We just hired them this week."
Before I could respond, the group parted slightly, and I saw her.
Celeste Morrison stood in the center of the cluster, looking exactly like the kind of girl who belonged in front of a camera. Her honey-blonde hair was styled in soft waves, and she wore a Chanel-style tweed jacket that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. Her right hand was still bandaged, but the dressing looked professionally done and almost fashionable.
Our eyes met across the room. Her expression shifted through several emotions in rapid succession—surprise, embarrassment, something that might have been guilt—before settling on a carefully constructed smile.
"Violet!" The marketing director appeared at my elbow. "Perfect timing. This is Celeste Morrison, one of our music and lifestyle livestream hosts."
Celeste stepped forward. "Ms. Goldcrest, what a small world. We keep running into each other."
Of course Daemon had gotten her this job. Of course he'd arranged for her to work at his family's company.
"Indeed," I said neutrally. "Congratulations on the new position."
"Thank you! Alpha Blackwood was kind enough to provide a reference."
Of course he was.
"Well, I won't keep you," I said, already turning to leave. "I'm sure you have a lot to learn."
I made it halfway to the elevator before I heard footsteps hurrying behind me.
"Violet, wait!" Celeste caught up to me, slightly breathless. "Can we talk? Just for a minute?"
I stopped and turned to face her. "What do you want, Celeste?"
"I wanted to explain about the job. I wanted to be independent. I didn't want to just be someone Daemon had to take care of."
"You don't owe me an explanation," I said finally. "What you and Daemon do is no longer my concern."
"But it is, isn't it? You gave him five years of your life. I never wanted to be the reason for anyone's pain."
"Celeste," I said, my voice gentler than I expected. "You're not responsible for my failed marriage. That was broken long before you showed up. Trust me."
Her baby-blue eyes widened. "I just don't want you to hate me."
"I don't hate you." And surprisingly, it was true. "I just want to be left alone."
Before she could respond, my phone buzzed. A text from Lily: Beck is flying in tonight. Sienna convinced him to come stay with you for a few days. Hope that's okay?
"I have to go," I told Celeste, already walking toward the elevator.
---
The parking garage was dim and cool. As I reached my car, I spotted Celeste again, this time climbing onto a beat-up electric scooter. She struggled slightly with her bandaged hand.
A cruel impulse seized me. I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo, then forwarded it to Evan: Your chance to play hero. She's riding around on this death trap.
Evan's response: Tell Daemon yourself.
I rolled my eyes and forwarded the photo to Daemon instead: Your precious princess is riding around on a tin can with wheels. Thought you'd want to know.
"She shouldn't be on that scooter. Her hand isn't healed enough."
"Then I guess you should buy her a car," I said sweetly. "Maybe something in baby blue to match her eyes?"
"Your sarcasm isn't—"
"I have to go, Daemon. Traffic." I hung up, a small satisfaction warming my chest.
By the time I reached my apartment building, full darkness had fallen. A sharp knock on my car window made me jump. Beck stood there, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face.
"Sorry to startle you," he said. "Sienna gave me your address. I hope this isn't too much of an imposition."
"It's fine," I heard myself say. "Come on up."
---
"Sienna said you've had a rough couple of weeks," Beck said, emerging from the guest room. "I'm a pretty good cook if you're hungry. Nothing fancy, but I make a mean chicken noodle soup."
The mention of food made my stomach growl. "That would be nice."
I watched Beck move around my kitchen with practiced ease.
The soup smelled amazing, and for the first time in days, I felt actual appetite. We sat at my small dining table in comfortable silence.
"This is really good," I said after the first few spoonfuls.
Beck smiled. "My mom's recipe. She insisted I learn to cook before I left home. Said no woman would want a man who couldn't feed himself."
We talked about inconsequential things—his work, my new job, Sienna and Lucian's bonding ceremony. Nothing heavy, nothing complicated.
After dinner, Beck insisted on doing the dishes. "Thank you for this," I told him. "For being here. I didn't realize how much I needed this."
"Anytime," Beck said simply. "Sienna obviously cares about you a lot. That makes you worth looking after."
Something about the way he said it made my throat tight. I blinked back sudden tears, blaming it on pregnancy hormones.
"I should probably get some sleep," I said, standing.
---
The next morning, I woke to the smell of eggs and toast. Beck had left a note: Headed out early for a work call. Eat something. – B
At work, the day passed in a blur. It was late afternoon when I was heading back to my office with documents for marketing. I'd almost made it to the elevator when I heard her voice.
"Violet! Wait!"
Celeste hurried toward me, carrying an expensive-looking gift bag.