Chapter 14
Lyra's POV
Early the next morning, Kael suddenly pushed open the bedroom door and leaned against the doorframe, watching me.
"Pack up. You're coming with me tonight to a family dinner." He paused. "My mother wants to see you. Dress appropriately and don't embarrass me."
I froze, the clothes I'd been organizing nearly slipping from my hands.
Marcella Vane, Kael's mother. In all these years with Kael, she had never bothered to hide her disgust for me. Every time we met, she would examine me with the look one reserves for defective merchandise, as if I were something unclean. I had once naively believed that if I just tried hard enough, she would eventually accept me. So I did everything I could to please her, only to be rewarded with increasingly cutting remarks—"Your humble origins don't match my son," "A lone wolf is a lone wolf, never fit for polite society."
All of it had once made me feel inferior, oversensitive, convinced that I simply wasn't good enough to earn her approval.
But now things were different. I was no longer that foolish girl desperate for recognition.
Honestly, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to give her another opportunity to mock me. But if Kael's family had any leads about the Blood Moon Cult, then this dinner was a perfect chance.
I took a deep breath and said obediently, "Alright, I'll get ready."
---
Kael's home was located in a wealthy suburb outside Chicago—a sprawling Victorian-style mansion surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens and fountains. Following behind Kael through the front door, I immediately felt that familiar sense of oppression. Everything here seemed designed to remind me that I didn't belong.
Marcella sat in the center of the living room on a sofa, dressed in an expensive suit. When she saw me enter, a flash of revulsion crossed her eyes, though she quickly masked it with a false smile.
"Lyra, it's been a while." Her voice was gentle, yet utterly devoid of warmth. "So, have you conceived yet?"
I hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Seeing my silence, the fake smile vanished from her face entirely, replaced by her usual cutting tone. "Three years, and you still haven't produced a child. Is there something wrong with your body, or are you simply not trying? Kael is such an excellent Alpha—half the girls in the Crimson Fang pack would line up to bear his children. What exactly do you mean by occupying the position without fulfilling your duties?"
The living room fell silent for a moment, and then I heard a soft snicker from the right side.
Kael's cousin, Lydia—the woman who'd said at the last family dinner that I "clearly didn't have a body built for childbearing"—was covering her mouth with a handkerchief.
"Maybe she's too nervous," she said, her sympathy as fake as a plastic flower. "Some people just have that kind of constitution—the more they want it, the harder it is to conceive. Though after two consecutive miscarriages, she really should get her body properly examined."
I lowered my head and gripped my handbag tightly. I couldn't help but feel a bitter irony. My failure to produce an heir was precisely because of Kael. It was he and Mira who had conspired to take the lives of my two children, who had treated my womb as nothing more than a breeding ground for their medicinal ingredients.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said softly, playing the role of the docile wife. "I'll continue to try."
Marcella snorted coldly, clearly dissatisfied with my response. She didn't look at me again, simply waved her hand to signal the servants to begin serving.
---
The dinner began. The long table was laden with exquisite dishes, silver utensils gleaming under the crystal chandelier. I sat beside Kael, eating carefully, trying not to draw anyone's attention.
Yet an accident still happened.
A young maid carrying a bowl of hot soup approached me. Suddenly, her foot "accidentally" caught on something, and the entire bowl of scalding liquid splashed directly onto my arm and thigh.
I gasped sharply, my skin feeling as though it were on fire, and instinctively stood up.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" The maid's voice was high and shrill, her hands fumbling with a napkin as if to wipe it off, but I could see the flash of satisfaction in her eyes.
This wasn't an accident at all. It was deliberate.
Before I could say anything, I heard Kael's impatient voice. "Lyra, couldn't you pay more attention when food is being served? Why were you leaning in so close?"
I stared at him in disbelief. It was clearly the servant's fault, yet he was blaming me?
Harsh laughter immediately erupted around the table.
"Exactly, can't even dodge properly."
"So clumsy. No wonder she can't even keep a child."
I stood there, feeling like every part of me was burning—whether from the soup or from the humiliation, I couldn't tell. I had stayed by Kael's side for so long, given up everything for him, and yet even the servants in his household could treat me with such contempt.
"I... I'll go change," I said quietly, my voice trembling.
Marcella looked at me coldly, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "Change? I don't have any clothes suitable for you in this house. You made the mess yourself, so figure it out yourself."
Her meaning was clear: you're not worthy of wearing clothes from my house.
I bit down hard on my jaw, forcing back the heat in my eyes. I couldn't cry here. I couldn't let them see my weakness.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed Sera's number.
"Sera, I... could you possibly bring me a change of clothes?" I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm at Kael's family mansion. The address is..."
---
Twenty minutes later, Sera appeared at the mansion entrance, carrying a bag. When she saw the large patches of red, swollen skin on my arm and leg, her expression changed instantly.
"Lyra, what happened?" She lowered her voice, her eyes full of concern and anger. "Who did this?"
"Just an accident," I forced a smile, taking the bag from her hands. "Thank you, Sera. If it weren't for you, I really wouldn't have known what to do."
Sera clearly didn't believe me. She glanced toward the living room at those cold, indifferent faces, and understanding flashed in her eyes. But this was Kael's home, and as an outsider, she couldn't say much. She could only squeeze my hand and whisper, "If you need help, call me anytime."
I nodded and watched her leave.
---
When I returned to the dining table after changing, my arm and thigh were still throbbing with pain. Blisters had formed where I'd been burned, the skin badly swollen and red. I gritted my teeth and sat down, trying to ignore the burning sensation.
Kael glanced at me dismissively. "Stop pretending. Werewolves have such strong healing abilities—a minor injury like that will be gone in a few hours. Why the dramatics?"
I froze.
Suddenly I remembered how, not long ago, when Mira had deliberately broken my moonstone and I'd pushed her to the ground, Kael had rushed back within minutes even though he'd been on patrol. Yet now, with my arm and leg covered in burns, blisters clearly visible, he said I was pretending. Said I was being dramatic.
It turned out that Kael wasn't incapable of caring about someone. He simply wasn't capable of caring about me.
I lowered my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face, not wanting anyone to see the tears welling in my eyes.
I finally understood. This man had never loved me. And I, like a fool, had given my heart to someone who had never been worthy of it.