Chapter 51
Violet's POV:
He agreed. The thought echoed through my mind. He actually agreed to contact the Council.
Ember stirred restlessly in my chest, a low whine building in the back of my consciousness. She didn't understand why we were pushing away our mate. The wolf didn't care about infidelity or emotional neglect—she only knew that Daemon was ours.
I pressed my palm flat against my sternum, feeling my heartbeat. "We're doing the right thing," I whispered.
The rejection ceremony. I'd demanded it. Screamed for it. And Daemon had just walked away and said fine.
I lay down without changing, pulling the duvet up to my chin. The mate bond pulsed dully, a constant ache. Would the rejection ceremony hurt more than this? People said severing a bond felt like being torn apart from the inside out. But how could physical pain compete with five years of this?
I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. My body was exhausted but my mind raced.
"I'll contact the Council tomorrow."
Daemon's voice had been so flat. No emotion. No regret. Had he been relieved?
I forced myself to breathe slowly, counting each inhale and exhale. My body was still recovering. I couldn't afford to spiral into an emotional breakdown.
Gradually, exhaustion won.
---
Morning light filtered through the curtains. I woke disoriented, my body stiff from sleeping in my clothes. Then memory crashed back.
I showered quickly and dressed in comfortable clothes—leggings and an oversized sweater.
The house was still silent. Daemon's scent lingered everywhere, but it wasn't fresh. He hadn't been home last night.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the garage. It didn't matter where Daemon had spent the night.
The drive to Frost Clinic passed in a blur. When I reached the cardiac floor, I headed straight for my mother's room.
As I passed the room next door, I noticed it was empty. The bed was neatly made, medical equipment cleared away.
I pushed open my mother's door. She was sitting up in bed, looking more alert than she had in days. Her color was better, the grayish pallor replaced by something healthier. She smiled when she saw me.
"Violet, sweetheart. You didn't have to come so early."
"Of course I did." I took her hand carefully. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Much better. Dr. Thorne said I might be able to go home in a few days."
We talked about inconsequential things. I let her chatter wash over me, grateful for the normalcy.
"You know," my mother said suddenly, "I've been thinking. Maybe once I'm fully recovered, you and Daemon could come visit more often. Bring the grandchildren I've been dreaming about."
My throat closed. I couldn't breathe.
"Mom—"
"I know, I know. You and Daemon want to wait. But Violet, you're not getting any younger, and neither am I. This health scare made me realize how much I want to hold my grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy them."
The words were there. Mom, Daemon and I are getting a rejection ceremony. There won't be any grandchildren.
But I couldn't say them. Not when she was still recovering. The shock could trigger another cardiac episode. And if I told my parents, they'd invoke werewolf tradition, the sacred nature of mate bonds, the political implications.
They wouldn't understand that staying was killing me.
So I smiled and said, "We'll see, Mom. Let's focus on getting you healthy first."
We talked for another half hour before her energy flagged. I kissed her forehead and promised to return tomorrow.
I was so lost in thought leaving her room that I nearly collided with someone in the hallway.
"Sorry, I—Violet?"
Evan stood there in his white coat, tablet in hand. Behind him, through an open door, I caught a glimpse of Mason Morrison in bed, Celeste by his side.
"What are you doing on this floor?" Evan asked. "Is everything alright with your mother?"
"She's fine. Better, actually."
"That's good news."
"I should go," I said. "I have some errands to run."
But before I could escape, Celeste emerged from her father's room. "Dr. Thorne! I was hoping to catch you. Dad wanted to thank you personally."
Her eyes slid to me. "Violet. It's nice to see you again. Is your mother doing better?"
"Much better, thank you." I forced a smile.
"Dr. Thorne has been amazing," Celeste continued. "He explained everything about Dad's surgery so clearly. I don't know what we would have done without him."
Evan's expression remained professionally neutral, but I caught the slight stiffness in his posture. The careful distance he maintained.
In my previous life, Evan had fallen for Celeste hard and fast. But now he seemed almost wary, deliberately keeping her at arm's length.
"I'm just doing my job," Evan said smoothly, the words coming out almost cold. "Your father's condition is very treatable."
Celeste's smile faltered slightly at his tone. "Still, we're so grateful."
"I should let you get back to your father," Evan said, already stepping away. "I'll check in again this afternoon."
He walked away without another word, leaving me and Celeste standing in the hallway.
Celeste nodded and then disappeared back into the room. I turned toward the elevator, but Evan's voice stopped me.
"Violet. Wait."
I turned back. He was standing at the end of the hallway, his expression unreadable.
"I was about to grab lunch. Want to join me?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
We took the elevator down to the hospital cafeteria in silence. It was crowded, filled with doctors and nurses grabbing quick meals between shifts. We found a table in the corner, away from the main traffic.
I picked at my salad while Evan ate his sandwich with methodical efficiency. The silence stretched between us.
Then Evan set down his sandwich and looked at me directly. "Do you think I'll fall in love with Celeste?"
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.
"What?" The word came out strangled.
"Last time you were drunk," Evan continued, his eyes never leaving mine, "you kept saying I should give up on Celeste. That I shouldn't fight with Daemon over her." He leaned back in his chair.
My mind raced.
"I was drunk," I said carefully. "I say stupid things when I'm drunk."
"Maybe." Evan tilted his head. "But it was oddly specific. Like you knew something I didn't."
I forced myself to meet his gaze steadily. "You and Daemon have been best friends since you were kids. You really think either of you would destroy that friendship over a woman?"
"Thanks for lunch. I should go." I stood up, suddenly desperate to leave.
I walked away before he could say anything else.
When I pulled into the estate's driveway, Daemon's SUV was still absent. I let myself in and made my way upstairs.
The rejection ceremony would happen soon—maybe within days. I needed to prepare myself. The process would be brutal, but I'd survived worse. I'd survived death itself.
I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine my life after the rejection ceremony. No more mate bond. No more lying awake wondering where Daemon was. No more performing the role of dutiful Luna.
Just me. Violet Goldcrest. Free to rebuild my life.
But I'd already made my choice. There was no going back now.
All I could do was move forward and hope I was strong enough to survive what came next.
---
Two days passed without any word about the rejection ceremony. No calls from the Council, no formal arrangements, nothing. The waiting gnawed at me.
On the third morning, I couldn't take it anymore. I drove to Blackwood Dynamics.
The receptionist looked surprised to see me. "Mrs. Blackwood! We weren't expecting you today."
"Is Daemon in?" I kept my voice neutral.
She checked her computer. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwood isn't in the office today."
He was probably at the hospital. With Mason Morrison. With Celeste.
I turned and left without another word, my jaw clenched tight. He was spending his days at the hospital, making sure Celeste's father received the best care, while I waited for him to follow through on the one thing I'd asked for.
I drove straight to Frost Clinic. The parking garage was crowded, and I had to circle twice before finding a spot. My irritation built with each passing minute.
The lobby was busy when I entered. I was heading toward the elevators when I heard a familiar voice.
"That fifty thousand—I'll pay you back as soon as I can. I promise."
The other end must be Daemon. He was not here.
I decided to leave.
Celeste turned and saw me. Her eyes widened slightly. "Violet. Hi."
"Celeste." I kept my expression neutral.
"I was just..." She gestured vaguely at her phone. "Making some calls."
"I heard." I shifted my designer bag higher on my shoulder.
Her cheeks flushed. "I know it's a huge amount, but I'll pay back every cent. I've already started looking into payment plans and—"
"It's not even worth one of my bags," I said flatly. "Consider it charity."
Celeste's expression shifted, something sharp flashing in her eyes before she masked it. "It's not charity. It's a loan. I'll pay it back."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I moved to walk past her.
"Violet, wait." She stepped into my path. "I know you probably think I'm taking advantage of Daemon's generosity, but I'm not. This is a loan. A business transaction."
I looked at her—really looked at her. In the hospital before, when I'd seen her with Zane, her eyes had been soft, almost innocent. But now there was something harder in her gaze. A kind of determination mixed with resentment that hadn't been there before.
"You really believe Daemon will accept your money when you try to pay him back?" I asked.
"Why wouldn't he?"
I stared at her, wondering if she was really this naive or just pretending. Daemon hadn't told her about the rejection ceremony yet? Once we were officially separated and he could pursue her openly, did she really think he'd care about fifty thousand dollars?
"Good luck with that," I said simply, and walked past her toward the elevator.
My phone buzzed. A text from the private investigator I'd hired to look into Kayla.
Got the information you requested. Can you meet this afternoon?
Finally, something I could control. Something I could actually fix.
I'll be there in an hour. I replied.
Sterling was a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Mrs. Blackwood. I have what you asked for."
He slid a thick folder across the desk. I opened it and started reading.
Kayla Morrison had a mate and a son.
"She's mated," I said slowly.
"Separated," Sterling corrected. "They've been living apart for almost two years. They started preparing for a rejection ceremony, then it stalled. According to my sources, the husband knows about her affairs and doesn't seem to care."
I flipped through the photos. The husband was large, muscular, with a prominent birthmark covering half his face. He looked rough, the kind of man who'd solved more problems with his fists than his words.
"Why doesn't he care about the affairs?" I asked.
Sterling shrugged. "That's the interesting question. Most wolves would challenge any male who touched their mate. But this guy? Nothing. He's been seen at bars, gambling dens, getting into fights—but he's never once confronted any of Kayla's lovers."
"Do you have an address for him?"
"Several. He moves around a lot. But there's a bar he frequents—The Rusty Anchor, down by the docks. He's there most nights."
As I left Sterling's office, my phone buzzed again. This time it was Sienna, her voice breathless and excited.
"Violet! That bitch isn't even pregnant!"