Chapter 46
Violet's POV:
Victoria's sitting room was nothing like the formal reception areas downstairs—this space belonged entirely to her, filled with family photographs in ornate frames, antique tea sets in glass cabinets, and soft cream furniture that invited intimate conversation. She closed the door with a quiet click, then turned to face me with an expression that made my stomach clench.
"Violet, darling," she began, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone mothers use for delicate matters, "did you go to the apothecary like I suggested? Did you get those herbal supplements for Daemon?" Her eyes held genuine hope mixed with cautious optimism that made me realize she'd been planning this conversation for days.
Heat crawled up my neck as my mind immediately conjured that night—Daemon's hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, the mechanical precision of his movements, the way he'd pulled away the moment it was over. I forced the images down and managed what I hoped was a casual nod. "I did. I've been making it into a special tea blend for him."
Victoria's face lit up with satisfaction, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she squeezed my hand with maternal affection that felt simultaneously genuine and like another weight settling onto my chest. "That's wonderful, dear. You must keep it up consistently—I guarantee it'll help you have a strong baby boy." She paused, then added with a softer smile, "Though a beautiful baby girl would be even more precious, wouldn't she?"
I returned her smile because that was expected, but inside something twisted painfully at the casual way she spoke about pregnancies and babies as though they were inevitable rather than impossible. I absolutely cannot get pregnant with Daemon's child right now—not when I'm trying to extract myself from this bond. A baby would trap me here forever, would give him leverage even after we broke the mate bond. Let Celeste give the Blackwoods their heirs after Daemon finally claimed his true mate.
She gestured toward the plush velvet sofa near the window, and I sank into it, my body remembering exhaustion I'd been pushing away all morning. My gaze drifted to the wall where a large family portrait hung—Dominic and Victoria flanked by their kids, all looking powerful and unified. There was Daemon, younger but already carrying that same distant coldness in his eyes.
My mind kept circling back to how different everyone seemed since my rebirth—Celeste's genuine sweetness, Victoria's maternal warmth, even Evan showing unexpected tenderness beneath his usual reserve, and Daemon himself had shifted in ways I couldn't quite define. Had they all truly changed, or was I finally seeing them clearly for the first time? The thought unsettled me because if everyone around me was different now—softer, more complex than I'd remembered—then what else was spinning beyond my control? What if my interference was pushing everything toward outcomes I couldn't predict?
Victoria reached over and covered my hand with hers, her palm warm against my suddenly cold fingers. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself, dear," she said softly. "These things happen when they're meant to. A child is a blessing, not a task to be completed on a schedule."
I nodded and murmured something appropriate, but internally I was thinking about how no child deserved to grow up with a father whose heart belonged to another woman, who would look at their mother with barely concealed resentment for existing instead of the person he actually wanted.
"Come," Victoria said, rising gracefully, "let's go check on the men before they get into trouble without proper supervision." I followed her downstairs until we reached the terrace doors overlooking the back lawn.
The scene that greeted us through the floor-to-ceiling windows made me freeze mid-step. Daemon was crouched in the snow beside his two-year-old nephew Asher, his large hands steadying the boy's grip on a miniature bow. The child was concentrating fiercely on the target several meters away, and Daemon adjusted his stance with infinite patience, his deep voice too quiet to hear but his body language speaking volumes about the care he was taking.
When the arrow finally released, it wobbled through the air before planting itself uselessly in the snow several feet from the target, but instead of criticism, Daemon immediately ruffled the kid's hair. "Good try, buddy. We'll practice more," I read on his lips.
Something in my chest cracked open painfully because he would be such a good father—patient, encouraging, protective without being smothering. Just not to my child.
The drive to Moonstone Spa should have been relaxing—Victoria had insisted I join her and Dominic's two older sisters for "proper pampering time" at the city's most exclusive beauty center. The three women settled into the SUV's back seat, immediately launching into animated conversation. I focused on navigating the snow-slicked roads.
We stopped at a red light halfway to our destination, and I caught Victoria's reflection in the rearview—her expression had shifted to something more focused, her nose lifting slightly in that distinctive way wolves did when catching a demanding scent. She was scanning the vehicle's interior with systematic thoroughness, her gaze finally settling on the passenger seat where Celeste had sat.
She didn't say anything—didn't ask who I'd been driving around, didn't comment on the obvious presence of another young woman's scent despite my professional detailing. She simply met my eyes in the mirror for one long, assessing moment before deliberately turning her attention back to her conversation as though nothing had happened. But I'd seen the flicker of understanding, and I knew that she knew.
Moonstone Spa occupied the entire top floor of a converted historic building, all exposed brick softened by plants and lavender scent. The manicurist presented me with color samples, and I was reaching for safe beige when Victoria materialized at my elbow. "Try this one, Violet. It'll complement your skin tone beautifully."
The color she'd selected was pearl white with the faintest shimmer of silver—sophisticated without being loud. I'd normally have dismissed it as too attention-seeking, but something in Victoria's expression made me agree. "That would be lovely."
As the manicurist worked, Victoria proceeded to orchestrate a complete transformation—the nail color, yes, but also deep hair conditioning with subtle caramel highlights, and a facial to address what she termed "stress fatigue" in my skin. When everything was finished hours later and I stood before the full-length mirror, I stared at my reflection in something close to disbelief. "I barely recognize myself," I murmured.
Victoria appeared behind me in the mirror, her expression gentle but firm. "Darling, you've always been this beautiful. You just forgot to see it."
Her words hit me with unexpected force because she was right—I realized I'd only ever felt "not good enough" around Daemon, had internalized his indifference as evidence of my inadequacy. Because he doesn't love me, I assumed I wasn't good enough. But maybe the problem was never me. I'd always been attractive, had always possessed value beyond what he chose to acknowledge. I'd just stopped believing it somewhere along the way.
That night back at the estate, I watched his black SUV's headlights cut through the snowy darkness from the window, the vehicle disappearing down the long driveway within seconds. Minutes later, my phone buzzed with his text: "Something came up, heading back to the city. Stay a few more days, I'll come pick you up."
I stared at the message, then at the empty driveway, and thought: Must be about Celeste.
The next morning, urgent knocking woke me. Victoria stood in my doorway, worry creasing her features. "Is Daemon in your room? His car is gone and he's not answering his phone!"
I manufactured concern I didn't feel. "Oh, there was an urgent issue at the Ironridge Mine. He had to rush back late last night to handle it."
Victoria's expression shifted through several emotions before settling on something knowing, almost sad. She gripped my hand, her voice suddenly serious. "Violet, if Daemon ever treats you badly, or if he dares to... stray, you must tell me immediately. Do you understand?"
My throat tightened, but I managed to nod.
"I chose you not because of pack alliances," she continued, each word weighted with sincerity. "I chose you because of who you are—your courage, your kindness. Marcus and I genuinely like you as a person, Violet. We're grateful you never gave up on him all these years, even when he probably didn't deserve your persistence."
The tears came before I could stop them, and when Victoria pulled me into a hug that felt genuinely maternal, I realized this was exactly what I'd needed in my previous life but had been too consumed with chasing Daemon to accept. "Thank you for telling me this," I whispered. "It means more than you know."
The next three days passed in strange limbo where I existed in the Blackwood estate like a ghost. Daemon had said he'd come pick me up, but days accumulated with no update, no explanation. Evan continued his daily video calls to check on Shadow.
I'd just ended my call with Evan when my phone lit up again with Mom's name. I felt myself relax, answering with genuine warmth. "Hey Mom, miss me already?"
The silence lasted three seconds too long. Then my mother's voice came through, carefully controlled but shaking at the edges: "Violet... you need to come home. Right now."