Chapter 83

Chapter 83
Bella's POV:

I pulled up to the Wildfire Pack house long after sunset had faded into full darkness. The only light came from the windows of the main house, glowing like cold eyes against the night sky. My hands were still shaking on the steering wheel. Not from fear—I was past that now. This was pure, cold rage.

Brandon had my mother. He'd had her all along.

I shoved the car door open and strode toward the front entrance, my footsteps quick and determined against the stone pathway. I didn't bother knocking. This house had been my prison for twenty-nine years. I wasn't going to stand on ceremony now.

The heavy oak door swung open under my hand, and I stepped into the foyer. The familiar scent of leather and pine hit me, along with something else—Brandon's cologne, that expensive sandalwood blend he always wore like armor.

He was in the living room, exactly where I expected him to be. Sitting in his favorite leather armchair like some kind of king holding court, a copy of Werewolf Business Weekly spread across his lap. He looked up as I entered, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

"Well, well," he said, setting the magazine aside with deliberate care. "My dear daughter finally decided to pay her old man a visit."

I walked straight to the center of the room and stopped, keeping the coffee table between us. "Where is she?"

Brandon leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Your mother? Oh, you mean Diana, of course. She's been dead for days now, Bella. Surely you haven't forgotten already."

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. "Don't play games with me, Brandon. I'm talking about Melissa Moss. My biological mother."

"Well," he said slowly, "you certainly have been busy, haven't you? I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out."

"Where is she?" I repeated, my voice dropping to something dangerous.

Brandon stood, moving to the sideboard where he kept his whiskey. He poured himself two fingers, took a slow sip, and turned to face me. "Your mother is exactly where she belongs. Safe. Secure. And completely under my control."

The casual cruelty in his voice made my stomach turn. "You're disgusting."

"I'm practical." He took another sip. "Now, shall we sit down and have a civilized conversation? Or are you going to keep standing there like you're ready to shift and tear my throat out?"

I forced myself to move to the sofa across from his chair. Not because I wanted to be civilized, but because I needed information. And Brandon loved nothing more than the sound of his own voice.

"If I guessed correctly," I said, settling onto the cushions and crossing my legs, "you found out about Mom's will. About the inheritance she left me."

Brandon's expression darkened instantly. "Yes. I found out about Diana's ridiculous will. And I have to say, Bella, I'm deeply disappointed in her choices."

He slammed his glass down on the side table hard enough to make the liquid slosh. "She left you eighty percent of everything. Eighty percent! After everything I did for her, everything my family sacrificed—"

"Sacrificed?" I cut him off, my voice sharp. "You mean the money your parents gave you to invest in Moore Industries? The investment that made you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams?"

"That money saved our company!" Brandon's voice rose, his face flushing red. "Without my family's capital, Diana's precious new energy project would have bankrupted her. She would have lost everything. I saved her, Bella. I saved this entire pack."

I leaned forward, my eyes locked on his. "And you've been using that as leverage to control her ever since. To emotionally blackmail her for decades. To make her endure your cold indifference, your obvious favoritism toward your biological son, your complete lack of support when she needed you most."

Brandon's jaw worked, but I wasn't finished.

"You watched her spiral into depression. You stood by while she suffered. And when she finally tried to do something good—something kind—by taking care of my biological mother, you punished her for it." My voice dropped to something cold and hard. "You're not a savior, Brandon. You're a parasite. And it's disgusting."

For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and a vein throbbed in his temple.

Then he laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound.

"You understand nothing," he said. "Nothing about sacrifice or duty or what it takes to build something lasting. Diana owed me everything. And what did she do? She wasted money on that woman—your precious biological mother—for three whole years. Do you have any idea how much that cost? How many resources she diverted from this family to support a stranger?"

"And thank God I did, before she wasted any more of our money on that worthless—"

"Careful," I interrupted, my voice deadly quiet. "Choose your next words very carefully."

He turned to look at me, and something in my expression must have warned him, because he stopped. For a few seconds, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

"So," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, "my mother's death. It wasn't because of what Ethan said to her, was it? It was you. You went to her hospital room after visiting hours ended, and you confronted her about the will."

Brandon's silence was answer enough.

"You fought with her," I continued, my voice shaking now despite my best efforts. "She told you she'd written the will. That she was leaving most of the estate to me as compensation for what you both did. And you—" My throat tightened. "You upset her."

"Yes!" The word exploded out of him. "And I hit her! One slap, Bella. How was I supposed to know she'd have a heart attack? How was I supposed to know her weak heart couldn't take it?"

The room spun. I gripped the arm of the sofa, trying to steady myself. My mother—my adoptive mother, who had raised me and loved me despite everything—had died because of this man. Because of his greed and his rage.

"How dare you?"

"As for Diana—" His voice hardened. "She betrayed me first. She was unfaithful. She kept secrets. She tried to give away everything I'd built to someone who isn't even my blood. What happened to her was her own doing. She brought it on herself."

I stared at him, this man I'd called father for twenty-nine years, and felt something inside me break. Not my heart—that had already been shattered too many times. No, this was something else. Some last tiny piece of hope that maybe, somewhere deep down, he had a conscience. That maybe he felt even a shred of guilt for what he'd done.

"And my biological mother?" I asked, my voice hollow. "What about Melissa?"

Brandon's expression shifted, becoming almost smug. "Ah yes. Your real mother. The woman who was so weak-minded that a few little lies sent her spiraling into madness."

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything." He spread his hands in a gesture of false innocence. "I simply told her the truth. That her mate—your father—had abandoned her. That she was all alone in the world with a bastard child no one wanted."

My nails dug into the sofa fabric. "She was already suffering from postpartum depression. She'd just given birth. You knew she was vulnerable, and you—"

"I did what needed to be done," Brandon interrupted. "Diana was desperate for a child. Your biological mother was in the way. So I removed her from the equation."

"You drove her insane."

"I gave her a little push," he corrected. "The rest was her own weakness. If she'd been stronger—if she'd been a proper wolf—she would have survived it. But she didn't. She broke. And that's not my fault."

"You ruined her life. You destroyed my biological mother and killed Diana—your own mate." My voice was shaking now, barely controlled. "Don't you feel anything? Any guilt at all? Aren't you afraid of going to hell for what you've done?"

Brandon laughed. Actually laughed. "Hell? That's just a fairy tale people tell themselves to feel better about the injustices of life. There's no hell, Bella. No divine punishment waiting for me."

I stared at him, feeling something cold settle in my chest. There was no point in arguing with him. No amount of words would make Brandon Moore see himself as anything other than the victim in his own twisted narrative.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "You want Mom's inheritance, don't you? The eighty percent she left me. That's what this is really about."

Brandon's expression shifted, interest flickering across his face. "Go on."

"I'll give it to you," I said flatly. "All of it. Moore Industries, the properties, the investments—everything Diana left me. In exchange, you tell me where Melissa is. That's the deal."

For a moment, Brandon just stared at me, as if trying to determine whether I was serious. Then a slow smile spread across his face.

"You'd really give up billions of dollars? Just like that?"

"Money is just money," I said, my voice steady despite the anger still burning in my chest. "I can earn it back myself if I need to. But my mother—I only have one chance to find her. So yes, I'll trade it all. Every last dollar."

Brandon studied me for a long moment, then let out a low chuckle. "You know, Bella, I really thought you were smarter than this. But you're just as foolish as Diana was."

"Do we have a deal or not?"

"Oh, we have a deal." He stood and walked to his desk, pulling open a drawer. "As a matter of fact, I had my lawyers prepare the paperwork already. I had a feeling you might be willing to negotiate."

He pulled out a thick document and brought it back to the coffee table, laying it out in front of me. "This transfers all of Diana's assets to me—the company shares, the properties, the investment accounts. Everything. All you have to do is sign."

I picked up the document with steady hands and scanned through it quickly. It was exactly what he'd described. A complete transfer of ownership.

I took it, positioned the document on the table, and signed my name at the bottom. The ink seemed to bleed into the paper, permanent and irrevocable.

"There," I said, pushing it back toward him. "Now tell me where she is."

Brandon picked up the document, examining my signature with satisfaction. Then he carefully folded it and tucked it back into his jacket.

"Before we get to that," he said, "there's one more thing we need to discuss."

My blood ran cold. "You said—"

"I said I'd tell you where your mother is, and I will. But first, we need to make sure there are no loose ends." He pulled out another document. "This is a severance agreement. It legally terminates any familial relationship between you and the Moore family. Once you sign this, you're no longer my daughter. You have no claim to our name, our pack, or our resources."

I stared at the paper. This was what I'd wanted, wasn't it? To be free of this family. To cut all ties with Brandon and Bryan and this house full of painful memories.

Still, my heart ached.

"Fine," I said, reaching for the pen again.

"You should read it first," Brandon suggested, but there was no real concern in his voice. He was enjoying this too much.

I skimmed the document quickly. It was straightforward enough—a mutual agreement to dissolve all family ties, with clauses preventing either party from making future claims against the other. I signed it without hesitation and pushed it across the table.

"Satisfied?" I asked.

Brandon examined both documents, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I believe I am."

He carefully folded the papers and tucked them into his jacket pocket, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Then he stood and walked to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"Here," he said, holding it out to me. "This is where you'll find Melissa."

I stood and crossed the room, snatching the paper from his hand. I unfolded it quickly, my eyes scanning the address written there.

I looked up at Brandon. "If you're lying to me—"

"I'm not," he said simply. "I have what I want now. There's no reason for me to lie."

I folded the paper and shoved it into my pocket, then turned toward the door. But before I left, one more question burned in my mind. I stopped and looked back at him.

"Are you planning to sell Moore Industries to Ethan?" I asked.

Brandon didn't even try to hide it. "His people have already made an offer. And frankly, neither Bryan nor I have the ability to turn the company around. It's been going downhill for years. Selling to Grave Industries is the smart move."

My jaw tightened. Of course Ethan was already positioning himself to swallow up what was left of Diana's legacy.

"Fine," I said coldly. "Do whatever you want with it. But there's one more thing."

"What?"

"The hundred million dollars you borrowed from me," I said, my voice hard. "I want it back."

Brandon waved a dismissive hand. "When I sell the company to Ethan, just have him deduct it from the purchase price. Problem solved."

I let out a cold laugh. "I forgot to mention something, Brandon. That hundred million? It wasn't Ethan's money. It was mine."

His face went blank. "What?"

"That's right. Every cent came from me. So you owe me, not Ethan. Pay me back as soon as you close the sale, or I'll come after you for it."