Chapter 75

Chapter 75
Isolde

Dorian's hand found mine once more, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "You did well," he said softly. "And we learned something important—they're hiding information about your birth parents that might connect to your unique abilities."

I nodded slowly. "The way Robert reacted... there's definitely something there. Something he doesn't want me to know."

"And we'll figure it out," Dorian promised. "But first, I think we could all use a more comfortable place to regroup. Somewhere without pretentious people and fake Venetian crystal."

"My apartment isn't far," I offered. "Though it's nothing special—"

"I have a better idea," Aiden interrupted smoothly. "I maintain a penthouse downtown for business purposes. It's fully stocked and has plenty of room for everyone."

I raised an eyebrow. "You just happen to have a penthouse in Crescent Bay?"

Aiden's expression remained neutral, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Strategic investments are a Stone family specialty. The real estate portfolio in major urban centers has proven quite lucrative."

"Translation: we own half the city," Elissa stage-whispered from the back seat. "The Stones believe in being prepared for anything, anywhere. It's borderline paranoid, but the apartments are always amazing."

As Dorian steered the car toward downtown, following Aiden's directions, I found myself staring out the window at the familiar cityscape. The visit to the Beck house had left me emotionally drained, but there was also a strange sense of liberation. For so long, I'd feared confronting my past, but now, surrounded by these three people who seemed determined to stand by me, the future felt less daunting.

"Rachel's engagement party might actually be useful," Aiden commented thoughtfully. "Social events loosen tongues, especially with alcohol involved. Someone might let slip additional information about your parents."

"If we decide to go," Dorian said, his tone making it clear he wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Oh, we're definitely going," Elissa declared. "I need to see Rachel's face when she realizes her fiancé can't stop staring at Isolde. Plus, Aiden and I clean up exceptionally well. It'll be fun."

"Fun isn't exactly the word I'd use," I murmured.

Dorian's fingers remained intertwined with mine as he drove, a silent promise of support. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you. But Elissa's right about one thing—seeing their faces when you walk in with us will be satisfying."

Tomorrow would bring Rachel's engagement party and whatever complications that entailed, but for tonight, at least, I didn't have to face my ghosts alone. And the mystery of my birth parents—of my own unique blood—was one step closer to being solved.

---

I woke to sunlight filtering through the penthouse windows, casting golden patterns across the unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, I lay still, orienting myself. This wasn't the Hawke Estate or my apartment—we were staying at Aiden's downtown penthouse after yesterday's confrontation with my family.

My gaze drifted to the elegant forest green gown hanging on the closet door. The sight of it sent butterflies through my stomach. Today we would attend Rachel's engagement party—an event I'd dreaded since the moment I'd reluctantly agreed to it.

I ran my fingers over the silky fabric, remembering the way Dorian's eyes had darkened with appreciation when he'd chosen it for me at the boutique yesterday. That moment in the store had been unexpectedly intimate—the way he'd immediately gravitated toward the exact shade that complemented my eyes, how his fingers had lingered on the fabric as if imagining it against my skin.

Standing before the mirror now, I scrutinized my reflection with critical eyes. Could I really pull this off? Play the part of Dorian Hawke's wife at a high-society engagement party? The woman in the mirror looked tired, uncertain—not at all like someone who belonged on the arm of an Alpha heir.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my self-doubt.

"Come in," I called, expecting Dorian.

Instead, Elissa's bright face appeared, her eyes widening at the sight of the dress.

"That's going to look absolutely killer on you," she declared, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. She was already dressed in a vibrant red cocktail dress that complemented her energetic personality perfectly. "Need some help getting ready?"

"I was just contemplating how out of my depth I am," I admitted.

Elissa waved dismissively. "Please. These human social events are so predictable. I've been to dozens. It's all about appearance, making small talk about nothing important, and pretending to be impressed by people you secretly can't stand." She grinned mischievously. "Though I admit, I find it all fascinating."

"Fascinating?" I raised an eyebrow as I picked up my hairbrush.

"Oh, absolutely!" She flopped onto the bed, careful not to wrinkle her dress. "Humans have such elaborate social rituals. All the hidden meanings in what they say versus what they actually mean. The subtle competitions. The way they use material things to establish dominance." She sat up suddenly. "Here, let me help with your hair. I have an idea."

Before I could protest, she had taken the brush from my hands and guided me to sit at the vanity.

"The trick to these events," she continued, her fingers working nimbly through my hair, "is to remember that you have something none of them do—you have us. And trust me, nobody there will be more powerful or more interesting than the people you're arriving with."

Her confidence was infectious, and I felt myself relaxing under her touch.

"I've never been good at these social games," I confessed. "Even in medical school, I was always the awkward one who preferred the library to parties."

"That's because you have actual substance," Elissa replied, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "Unlike your stepsister. I couldn't believe her yesterday—fishing for compliments while insulting you in the same breath."

I smiled gratefully. "Thank you for being there. All of you."

"That's what pack is for," she said simply, then seemed to catch herself. "I mean, friends. That's what friends are for."

The slip didn't escape me, but I found I didn't mind. There was something comforting about the way she included me so naturally.

As she finished styling my hair into an elegant updo with a few soft tendrils framing my face, she moved to my jewelry box. "Now for accessories." She frowned at the modest collection. "Hmm, these won't do. Wait here."