Chapter 13
“The box… the one Isla gave you?” Rhett’s sudden question caught the Beta off guard. He faltered, his voice stalling with visible
unease.
“Well?” Rhett pressed, voice low and tense. “I gave you one thing to hold onto. You lost it?”
“It wasn’t me,” the Beta said quickly. “Luna Arabella told me it didn’t look valuable. She said to just toss it.”
“What?” Rhett’s voice sharpened.
“Do you remember where you threw it?” he asked, already half turning. “Find it. Now.”
“On it.”
The Beta bolted, and Rhett stared after him,
uneasy.
Ten minutes later, he returned–box in hand—but just as he was about to pass it over, Arabella stepped in.
He froze, clutching the box awkwardly.
“Rhett,” she cooed, slipping her arm into his. “Where’d you run off to? I was looking everywhere.”
She gave a playful spin. “Look at the dress I changed into. Do you like it?”
It was lavender with a sweeping train that shimmered under the lights.
But Rhett’s expression shifted.
H
He remembered–clear as day–her saying she hated purple. Said it washed her out. Said it wasn’t her color. So why wear it today, days?
Something wasn’t adding up.
Still, he forced a smile. “It looks great. Really… suits you.”
But the smile never reached his eyes.
Arabella didn’t notice–or didn’t care. She beamed, twirling again.
The music swelled, and the elder of the Echelon Pack stopped onto the stage, beginning the ceremony with the traditional When their names were called, Arabella’s eyes shone with giddy excitement, Rhett’s gaze, however, stayed distant.
He took her hand and followed her up to the altar. But halfway there, his steps faltered.
For just a second, it wasn’t Arabella’s face he saw in his mind–it was Isla’s.
He froze.
“Rhett?” Arabella hissed under her breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Rhett!” She tugged his arm, but he didn’t move.
A murmur spread through the crowd. The elder tried to cover, joking about nerves and pre–wedding exhaustion.
But the tension didn’t ease.
Arabella’s smile twitched. Her eyes screamed panic.
Still, Rhett didn’t move. He stared ahead, but he wasn’t really there.
Only after what felt like forever did he blink and finally turn away, stepping off the altar without a word.
Gasps followed him as he walked straight out of the ceremonial hall.
Chapter 13
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Backstage, the Beta was already waiting, tense and breathless. He held out the box without a word.
Rhett took it with shaking hands and flipped the latch open.
Inside: a small cassette tape, and a signed legal severance document.
The words at the top hit him like a brick: Termination of Parental Rights.
He blinked, stunned.
She really cut ties with her family?
Why?
He remembered how affectionately Regis and Viviana treated Arabella. So why was Isla–who shared the same blood–left out in the cold?
His fingers moved to the cassette. It looked familiar.
Isla had once tried to show it to him, begged him to listen. But back then, he’d assumed she was just being dramatic. He hadn’t even touched it.
Now, he slid it into a player.
White noise.
Then… a voice.
Soft. Steady. Deep.
His voice.
He froze.
It was him, telling bedtime stories -stories he used to read when he was blind. Stories he thought he’d told Arabella.
But this recording… why did Isla have it?
Unless…
Unless it had been Isla all along.
His chest tightened.
Could Arabella have lied? Was everything he believed just… wrong?
He yanked out his phone and tried to call Isla.
No answer.
He tried again. Nothing.
Frustrated, he grabbed the tape and stormed back toward the ballroom.
Arabella was mid–toast, siniling sweetly at the crowd.
He didn’t wait.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her aside. Hard.
“Arabella,” he said, voice clipped, “were you really the one who stayed with me all those months?”
She blinked. “What?”
“You said you were. That it was always you. But was it?”
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“What are you talking about?” she tried to laugh it off, eyes darting. “Of course it was me. Who else would it be?”
“I just need to hear it,” he said. “That tape–those stories. Do you remember the ones I told you?”
“Y–Yes! Of course I do,” she stammered. “I mean, it’s been so long, maybe I forgot the details, but…‘
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
That alone was enough.
Rhett stepped back, something hollow and sharp blooming in his chest.
He knew now.
He didn’t need more proof.
Arabella wasn’t the one.
Isla was.
She always had been.
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.