Chapter Thirty-Five: Spotlight on Her

Sophie's POV

The limo wound through the forest, following the dirt road illuminated only by moonlight. The vintage country club chosen for tonight's hunt sat on the edge of Pack territory - neutral ground, according to Marcus. I could already see the warm glow of lights through the trees.

I fidgeted with my dress, still hyperaware of how much skin it showed.

"Stop that." Marcus sat across from me, impossibly elegant in a black suit. Even in the dim light, I could feel his gaze on me. "You'll wrinkle it."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, trying to adjust the plunging neckline for the hundredth time. "You're not basically naked."

His eyes traced a deliberate path down my body, lingering on all that exposed skin. Heat crept up my neck.

The trees opened up to reveal a clearing that I had to admit was impressive. The main building was all weathered stone and ivy, surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns that stretched into the surrounding forest. Strings of golden lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft glow against the darkening sky. Tables dotted the lawn, draped in crisp white linens.

The only downside? The place was already packed. At least a hundred guests filled the grounds, the air hummed with voices and laughter, punctuated by the clink of champagne glasses.

The moment I stepped out of the car, that buzz of conversation died. Like someone had hit a universal mute button. Every head turned toward us, and I felt the weight of hundreds of eyes taking in my barely-there dress, the dramatic makeup, the whole "fuck you, I'm a queen" vibe Victoria had crafted.

"Dear goddess," a woman gasped, her voice cutting through the hush. "Alexandra's girl."

Marcus's hand settled on my lower back, steadying me. "Stand tall," he breathed near my ear. "Let them look."

A distinguished-looking man in his fifties approached first.

"That's Thomas Reid," Marcus murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "Your father's Beta. Greet him properly - slight head tilt, no direct eye contact yet."

I followed Marcus's guidance, tilting my head in subtle submission. The Beta's face remained expressionless, but his eyes held a glimmer of approval.

"Miss Haven." His voice carried across the gathering. "Welcome home."

That opened the floodgates. Like a dam breaking, wolves surged forward, their bodies pressed close, hands reached out to touch me, voices competing for attention. They claimed various connections to my past, each trying to outdo the other with their supposed intimacy with my family.

"Oh, I changed your diapers!" (Bullshit - I'd been living with my adoptive dad by then)

"You used to love when I sang to you!" (Pretty sure that never happened)

"Your mother and I were inseparable!" (Strange how she never mentioned you)

Each claim more ridiculous than the last. I noticed how they all mentioned "before" - before my mother's death, before my disappearance. None of them mentioned the "during" - during my mother's struggles, during our hardest times. Funny how family works that way.

I plastered on my best fake smile, playing along while mentally rolling my eyes at their obvious social climbing. Marcus stayed close, occasionally whispering quick identifications in my ear:

"Beta's wife on your left - watch what you say."

"That's the Murphy family - old allies, very traditional."

"Careful with her - runs the biggest gossip network in three territories."

"Sophie!" James's genuine enthusiasm cut through the fakeness like a breath of fresh air. He looked adorably uncomfortable in his suit, tugging at the collar like it might strangle him.

"Hey there," I grinned for the first time that evening, relieved to see a friendly face. "Nice penguin suit."

"Way better than what I usually wear," he confided with a grimace, then gestured at my dress. "But wow, you look amazing. Like one of those movie stars at those fancy awards shows."

"Trying too hard, maybe," I laughed, but his earnest compliment warmed something in my chest.

"Oh! Did you look through those photos yet?" His eyes lit up. "There's this really cool one of you as a baby trying to eat Dad's watch-"

"James." Elizabeth's sharp voice cut him off. She wore a white dress like an angel but barely concealed hostility. "What did I tell you about associating with her?"

The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. James's face fell.

"I was just saying hi-"

"We don't say 'hi' to people trying to steal our things." Elizabeth's amber eyes - so like mine and our father's - blazed with hatred. "Or did you forget she's here to replace us?"

"Elizabeth." Marcus's voice held a warning, but she was already dragging James away. The poor kid shot me an apologetic look over his shoulder, and my heart ached.

"Your sister seems charming as ever," Marcus commented dryly.

"Half-sister," I corrected, watching James disappear into the crowd. "At least one of them doesn't hate me."

The next hour was a blur of fake smiles and carefully navigated social landmines. Adam made a brief appearance, making sure everyone saw him playing the devoted fiancé before disappearing into a crowd of admiring female wolves. Marcus's face darkened every time he caught sight of his son's antics. I caught occasional glimpses of Victoria across the lawn, continued play the perfect Luna as she made rounds among the pack members - someone had to maintain those social obligations after all. She caught my eye once and winked, her earlier exhaustion carefully masked behind her social smile.

Finally, a soft chime rang out across the lawn, signaling dinner. Servers began directing everyone toward the main table that had been set up near the forest's edge.

My steps faltered when I caught sight of the place cards. My father at the head of the table, Katherine beside him, her lips curved into something that might have been a smile, if smiles were made of broken glass and venom.

And then I saw it. The empty chair next to her. My assigned seat.