Chapter 44 Bitter Win
[Nyx]
"Sit. Down." My father's voice was granite and ice.
Isla froze mid-motion, then slowly lowered herself back into her chair. Tears continued to stream down her face, but her hands had stopped shaking. Even in her distress, she maintained a certain composure, as if some part of her was always performing.
My father looked at each person at the table—Isla, Ophelia, me, Lysander—his face carved from stone. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Outside, snow continued to fall against the windows, the only sound in the room besides Ophelia's diminishing sobs.
After what seemed like an eternity, my father spoke. "Raymond will be stripped of his position immediately. He will face pack punishment for his actions."
A flicker of triumph rose in me, quickly extinguished by his next words.
"Isla, you will return to your family home for a period of reflection. We will discuss this matter further when emotions have cooled."
"That's it?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice. "She orchestrated the theft of nearly forty million dollars, and you're sending her home for 'reflection'?"
My father's eyes met mine, and for a moment I saw something ancient and calculating there. "This situation is more complex than you realize, Nyx. There are considerations beyond simple justice."
"Like maintaining your Luna's reputation?" I shot back. "Like protecting Tristan's claim to Alpha?"
"Like protecting this pack from tearing itself apart," Karl replied, his voice hard. "However..." He turned to me, and his expression softened slightly. "You've proven yourself tonight, Nyx. All restrictions on your movements and activities are lifted. You've earned the right to manage Eclipse without interference."
It was a victory, but it tasted like ash in my mouth.
Isla stood slowly, her perfect mask cracked but not shattered. She looked at me, and for a brief moment, I saw pure hatred flash in her eyes before she composed herself.
"May I be excused, Alpha?" she asked formally.
Karl nodded. "Taran will arrange your transportation tomorrow morning."
As Isla moved toward the door, she paused next to Ophelia, who was still crying quietly. "Come, dear. You shouldn't be upset in your condition."
But Ophelia shook her head violently. "Don't touch me. You used me just like everyone else used me."
Isla's expression flickered with something—surprise? respect?—before she continued out of the room.
After she left, my father turned to Ophelia. "Miss Hartwell, you will remain here tonight. Tomorrow, we will discuss arrangements for you and your child. If the child is indeed Tristan's, we will ensure both of you are provided for."
"If?" Ophelia's voice was small. "You want a DNA test?"
"Given the circumstances," Karl said, not unkindly, "I'm sure you understand the necessity."
Ophelia nodded slowly, then stood on shaky legs. "May I be excused as well?"
"Ariel will show you to a guest room," I said quietly.
After Ophelia left, only my father, Lysander, and I remained. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid.
Finally, my father spoke. "You did well tonight, Nyx. Your mother would have been proud."
The mention of my mother broke something in me. "Would she? Would she be proud of how you handled Isla? Of how you let her get away with stealing everything Mother built?"
"I'm handling Isla in the way that will cause the least damage to this pack," Karl said firmly. "That's what being Alpha means—making difficult choices for the greater good."
"The greater good," I repeated bitterly. "Is that what you told yourself when you took Eclipse from me in the first place? When you gave it to Tristan to manage, knowing he'd let Raymond run it into the ground?"
My father's expression hardened. "I gave you that company because I knew you were the only one who could save it. And you did. You proved you have your mother's mind for business and her courage to fight for what's right."
He moved toward the door, then paused. "Nyx, I know more than you think I do. Sometimes the best way to catch a thief is to let them think they've gotten away with it. Isla will answer for her crimes—but in my time, and in my way."
After he left, I sank into my chair, exhaustion washing over me. Lysander moved behind me, his hands gently massaging my tense shoulders.
"You exposed her," he said quietly. "Even if your father didn't punish her the way you wanted, everyone saw her true face tonight."
"It's not enough," I whispered. "She almost destroyed my mother's legacy, and she gets to go home for 'reflection'?"
"For now," Lysander agreed. "But your father's right about one thing—you proved yourself tonight. You showed everyone that you're not the broken girl they thought you were. You're a force to be reckoned with."
I leaned back against him, feeling his solid presence grounding me. "Tristan's right too, you know. They're all users and manipulators. This whole family is rotten."
"Not all of it," Lysander said softly, turning my chair so I faced him. He knelt in front of me, taking my hands. "You're not rotten, Nyx. You fought for the truth tonight. That took courage."
I looked into his amber eyes and saw only sincerity there. "Thank you," I whispered. "For standing with me. For believing in me."
"Always," he promised.
As Ariel quietly began clearing the abandoned dinner plates, I heard the distant sound of something breaking—Tristan, perhaps, destroying something in his rage and pain. Ophelia's sobs echoed faintly from upstairs.
Tonight, I'd won a battle. But the war was far from over. Isla's parting glance had promised that much.
And somewhere in this broken family, truth and lies had become so tangled that I wasn't sure anyone could separate them anymore.