Chapter Twenty-Five

JESSICA'S POV ~

I looked up from my meal to find Keagan glaring daggers at my agent, who appeared visibly uncomfortable under his murderous gaze.

My brows creased in response.

I cleared my throat, prompting Keagan to slowly shift his eyes away from Leon. He picked up the napkin on the table and roughly wiped the side of his lips as if the piece of linen offended him.

"So... I was wondering how often you fly out of the country when you're not working, Miss Reynolds?" Keagan's voice was flat, almost too flat as if he was trying too hard to come across as uninterested and bored. I paused with my glass of wine at my lips, looking up at him.

"A couple of times weekly. It depends on when I need to meet with my important clients or leave for a photo shoot." I finally responded with a shrug, dabbing at my lips with my napkin.

Keagan's eyes darkened, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a grin.

He didn't bother to say another word and suddenly pushed his plates away from him. Did Keagan Hall just lose his appetite because of me? Nothing brought me more joy than seeing him all riled up.

Oh, he had no idea what hell I was about to unleash on him.

Keagan seemingly became engrossed in his cellphone, while I ate to my heart's content. Once I finished, I grabbed my bag and moved to join Leon, who had also finished eating.

"Ready to leave?" he asked, tucking away the hair that was sticking to my face. I gave him a small smile in response. When your agent stuck with you in the craziest moments of your career, fighting for your interests, a bond is sure to be created between you both.

Keagan cleared his throat, and I turned to find him staring at us with a dark look on his face, one hand in his pocket. What was wrong with him?

"Miss Reynolds, why don't I give you a ride?" He asked stiffly, lips pressed into a tight line. "Let me ensure you get home safely." 

Shaking my head, I gave him an uninterested look. "There's no need for that, Mr. Halls. I have my agent, and he'll make sure I'm safe." I turned to Leon and inquired, "Right, Leon?"

Leon gave a quick nod, so I flashed Keagan my sweetest smile.

A vein in his neck throbbed, but he remained silent and turned his back on us to answer a phone call. His phone's screen was off though. Biting back another grin, I waved his Beta goodbye and left the restaurant with my agent at my tail.

"What's wrong with that Keagan guy?" Leon asked as soon as I slid into one of my cars, which had been driven to the hotel's premises.

"Huh?"

"Didn't you see the way he was glaring at me like he couldn't wait to beat the shit out of me?" Leon questioned and I rolled my eyes.

"I saw nothing," I replied, leaning forward to rest my head on the window. A sigh rose to my lips as I took in the scenery, allowing my thoughts to flow wildly alongside the fresh air drifting through the slits in the car's window. It was a very long drive as Rosario (the city where Keagan stayed) was verry far way from Brownsville (The city my adopted parents stayed.). It was literally a six hours drive. Honestly, sometimes I always thought Rosario and Brownsville were two different countries making up the sovereign nation of the Arcadia.

Anyway, My adoptive parents weren't home when I arrived and I wasn't spooked by that. They had traveled for a business event, leaving the large mansion eerily quiet, save for the occasional sounds of the maids working and their feet padding across the corridors.

On the way to my bedroom, I picked up a suitcase from the store, which I would use to pack my clothes and other necessities for the assigned hotel room where I would stay in Rosario during the upcoming shoot for Keagan's advert.

My thoughts drifted as I reflected on how much Keagan had changed over the years. He looked more handsome and well-built, with a neatly trimmed beard that complemented his striking features.

 A pang hit my heart.

He must have indeed moved on, forgetting every single thing about me and living his best life with the witch who had snuffed the very life out of me. Bitter laughter pealed out of my lungs at the thought.

It hurt so much!

I had being weak, frail and very much naive. 

I had no idea how my kids were. Was Emma treating them right? Did they get enough sleep? enough food. I couldn't even hold them! I hadn't held them even once. My eyes watered, and I drew in a long, shaky breath. I let go of the gown I was about to stuff into the suitcase and slid to the ground, curling into a ball as I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Most nights, I cried myself to sleep, wondering how my kids were doing. I wondered if Emma had succeeded in manipulating Keagan into believing that I was a monster. If Keagan knew this model Sylvia Reynolds was actually me, Jessica Stone--his dead Luna--would he jump right into having me killed? What things had Emma told him to make him actually marry her and hide my children from the public eye?

As much as those thoughts plagued me, I worried about the living condition of my children even more. The first time I'd seen them through the gates of Keagan's house, they'd seemed happy. Still, I knew Emma could never play the role of a loving mother because she would undoubtedly see me  in those kids every single day. But I was grateful she had let them live, and I was relieved she had lost her womb as well. It was the first time I found solace in someone else's misfortune. As long as Emma couldn't have children, she needed my babies. And that was enough time until I'd gotten them back.

Memories from the past seven years swirled in my head and I tucked my legs in tighter. After being picked up and groomed to live up to Sylvia's status and identity, I was slowly beginning to find the meaning of life again.

My adoptive parents showed me so much love and care that it made me miss my late mother immensely. She was the only one who had ever cared about me like that. I wished I could see her one more time, hug her, and cry out about how broken I felt and how much I longed to heal—for myself and for my kids.

I often felt numb and spent many nights drinking and locking myself away. Sometimes, I tried to attend the top parties in the country which Sylvia had been invited but it was difficult to fit in because I was naturally an introvert, whereas Sylvia had been the life of the party. It was hard to take on Sylvia's identity and act as she would so suspicions wouldn't be arisen. 

As Jessica, I would binge eat when depressed, but as Sylvia, I was put on numerous restrictive diets, exercise regimens, and body care treatments. I also attended endless photo shoots where I modeled and influenced for famous brands. It scared me that I was gradually losing touch with the real me—the real Jessica who had returned to life for the purpose of seeking revenge and reclaiming her children.

And damn, I made so much fucking money—more than I had ever earned in my entire life, so much that I didn't know what to do with it. I was free as a bird, counting hundred thousands of dollars just by posing for the camera and riding in luxurious cars that I never could have afforded when I was Keagan's trophy wife.

I owned numerous diamond necklaces, gold jewelry, and wristwatches that often went missing, but I rarely noticed, and even when I did, I ignored it. The servants could have them.

The old Jessica was an Omega who hid from people and always sought validation before living her life. But now, this Jessica, in Sylvia's body, exuded a "fuck everyone" aura with a majestic appearance that made my haters shrink away. I boldly made my appearance in the media, where people from all over the world paid just to get a glimpse of me.

The old Jessica—weak and pathetic— never stood up for herself. But this Jessica was fierce, cold, and calculative, with a strong and untamed Alpha wolf. And honestly, I preferred it this way. I had hated myself for the longest of time, hated my weakness as an omega. Maybe my death was a good thing. I was now in the body of an Alpha wolf and whilst the wolf never spoke to me or allowed me shift, I could borrow its strenght and majestic aura.

Was I shallow? *Perhaps.*

I slowly sat up as a memory hit me—one that always sent chills down my spine when recalled.

I had once eavesdropped on my adoptive parents' conversation about Sylvia's death. I hadn't intended to; I had simply been passing by when I heard her name mentioned, so curiously, I stopped and strained my ears to catch every word.

Sylvia's parents had been discussing how they weren't sure if Sylvia had truly committed suicide. Yet, they had no evidence to support their suspicion. They believed Sylvia had been gruesomely murdered.

Although Lydia and Patrick publicly announced that Sylvia—or rather, I—was back and well, returning to the world of entertainment, behind closed doors, they still grieved her loss.

I knew what a gruesome death entailed. I had experienced it, and it was something I never wanted to face again.

A sudden gust of wind blew in from nowhere, and my heart slammed against my ribcage. Slowly, I realized something—or someone—had moved past my window. I sprang up quickly and dragged in long inhales of air.

The hairs at the back of my neck tingled.

I wasn't alone.