Chapter 33
Violet's POV:
The high-rise apartment Lily and Connor rented was across the city, in a neighborhood that aspired to luxury without quite achieving it, and I took the long route on my motorcycle, letting the wind scrape the numbness from my bones.
The moment I stepped into their apartment, I was struck by the sheer volume of warmth that Lily had managed to cram into the modest space. White lace and gold ribbons draped across the living room, wildflowers crowded every surface, and dozens of candles lined the mantle and coffee table.
"Violet!" Lily's voice rang out from the kitchen, bright and breathless. She appeared a moment later, flour smudged across her cheek and an apron tied snugly around her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her flushed face, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that made my chest tighten. "Thank the Goddess you're here. I've been drowning in tulle and table settings all morning."
I glanced around the apartment again, noting the absence of the one person who should have been by her side. "Where's Connor?" I asked, keeping my tone light even as a cold knot of dread began to form in my stomach. "I thought he'd be helping you with all this."
Lily waved a hand dismissively, her smile never faltering. "Oh, he's been working insane hours lately. He got promoted to operations manager at the firm last month, and he's been pulling double shifts to prove he deserves it." She moved back into the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow. "He's so determined, you know? He keeps saying he refuses to be seen as the wolf who married into a good family and coasted on his mate's connections. He wants to build our future with his own two hands, and honestly, it's one of the things I love most about him."
I forced a smile and perched on one of the kitchen stools, watching as Lily bustled around, pulling out trays of half-decorated cookies and muttering about frosting consistency. The exhaustion was there, lurking beneath the manic energy. I could see it in the faint shadows under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she piped delicate swirls onto a sugar cookie shaped like a crescent moon.
"You should take a break," I said carefully, testing the waters. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
Lily laughed, a sound that was equal parts delight and fatigue. "I haven't, really. But it's worth it." She set down the piping bag and turned to face me, her hands clasped together in front of her chest, and the expression on her face made my stomach drop. It was the look of someone about to share a secret so precious that speaking it aloud felt like a risk. "Actually, Violet, there's something I haven't told anyone yet. Not even Connor."
My pulse quickened, a sense of foreboding crawling up my spine. "What is it?"
She bit her lower lip, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. "I'm pregnant." The words tumbled out in a rush, as if she had been holding them back for so long that they could no longer be contained. "A month and a half. I found out two weeks ago, and I've been dying to tell him, but I wanted to wait until the ceremony. I thought it would be the perfect surprise."
The world tilted beneath me, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. Of all the possible complications, this was the worst. A baby. An innocent life caught in the crossfire of Connor's lies and Lily's blind devotion.
If I told her the truth now, showed her the evidence of Connor's betrayal, what would happen? Lily's world would shatter. The pain and rage would consume her, and in her fragile state, the stress could easily trigger a miscarriage.
But if I stayed silent, if I let her walk into that ceremony believing Connor was the devoted mate he pretended to be, what then? When the truth inevitably came out, would she spend the rest of her life making excuses for a man who did not deserve her, all because she thought a child needed two parents under one roof?
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, the words dying on my tongue. There was no good answer. No clean solution. Every path led to pain, and I was standing at the crossroads with Lily's trusting eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to say something, anything.
"That's wonderful," I managed, the words tasting like ash. "You must be so happy."
Her face lit up, and she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a hug that smelled like vanilla and hope. "I am. I really am. I keep imagining what our baby will look like, whether they'll have Connor's eyes or my hair, and it just feels like everything is finally falling into place, you know?"
I hugged her back, my arms stiff and mechanical, and stared over her shoulder at the perfect little nest she had built. The lace and the flowers and the candles, all of it a beautiful lie. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself," I said quietly, pulling back to look at her. "The ceremony is important, but so are you and the baby. Don't push yourself too hard."
She nodded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I will. I promise."
I stayed for another hour, helping her arrange centerpieces and fold napkins, but the moment I could extract myself without raising suspicion, I fled.
My feet carried me without conscious direction, and I found myself at Riverfront Park, where the water moved sluggish and gray beneath the overcast sky.
Connor's mask had crumbled so easily. The "good guy" who worked hard and loved his mate was nothing more than a facade, and now Lily was carrying his child while he screwed another woman in secret.
I thought of Daemon and Celeste. In my first life, I had died too early to see how their story ended. I had witnessed the beginning, the explosive passion that drove Daemon to destroy everything in his path to claim her. But what if the Mate Bond was just another illusion? What if the passion faded after ten years, twenty years, and they found themselves trapped in the same suffocating routine? What if his obsession was nothing more than the thrill of the hunt, and once he had her, the fire would burn out and leave only ashes?
I sank onto a bench near the water's edge and stared at the ripples spreading across the surface.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled me from my thoughts.
Daemon emerged from the driver's side, his tailored suit immaculate. He stopped a few feet away, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Why are you sitting out here freezing?"
I glanced down at the coffee cup in my hands. "Thinking."
He moved to sit beside me on the bench.
We sat in silence for a long moment, and then I surprised myself by speaking. "I used to love wearing pants," I said quietly. "Dark jeans, leather, things that let me move freely and made me feel strong. But I assumed men preferred women in bright, sexy dresses, so I started wearing them constantly. Skirts and heels and colors that made me feel exposed." I paused, staring at the dark water. "I thought if I looked like what you wanted, you'd finally see me. But you never did."
Daemon's gaze remained fixed on the water, his profile sharp and unreadable. "And do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
I considered the question, really considered it, and then shook my head. "No. Not entirely. For ten years, I got to experience what it felt like to love someone so much that the world seemed brighter just because they existed in it. It was painful, and it was one-sided, and it nearly destroyed me, but I can't say I regret feeling that deeply. At least I learned when to let go."
His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath the skin, but he said nothing.
A thought occurred to me, sudden and sharp, and before I could second-guess myself, I turned to look at him directly. "You're chasing that college girl now. Don't you feel it? That same kind of love? The kind that makes everything else fade away?"
The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant. Daemon's eyes, which had been distant and almost peaceful, went cold and hard. "No."
My mind scrambled to make sense of it, to rationalize what I was hearing, and I latched onto the only explanation that made sense. He didn't know. He was so caught up in the hunt, in the primal drive to possess her, that he hadn't yet recognized what he was feeling for what it truly was.
I looked away, back toward the water, and let the silence settle again.
"Dominic offered me a position," I said after a while, shifting to safer ground. "At Blackwood Dynamics. He thinks I should get involved with the family business, help manage the foundation and external investments."
Daemon's head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing. "At Blackwood?" he repeated, his voice edged with something I couldn't quite place. "Since when?"