Chapter 78

Bella's POV:

The winter night pressed against the windows of Moonhunt Estate like a living thing, cold and relentless. I sat in the armchair by the window, my laptop closed on the side table, staring out at the darkness beyond the glass. The wind howled through the bare trees, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the ache in my chest.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's face in that video—pale, tear-stained, desperate. The weight of her confession crushed down on me, making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think of anything else.

You weren't adopted. You were stolen.

The words played on a loop in my mind, over and over. My entire life—everything I thought I knew about myself—was a lie built on cruelty and greed.

I shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position, but comfort was impossible. My body ached. My heart ached. Everything ached.

By the time the first gray light of dawn crept through the windows, I'd exhausted myself with crying and thinking and hating. I slumped sideways in the chair, my cheek pressed against the cushioned armrest, and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

---

A soft knock on the door jolted me awake. "Miss Bella?" Jane's gentle voice came from the hallway. "Breakfast is ready."

I sat up slowly, wincing at the stiff neck from the awkward angle I'd been sleeping at.

The door opened a crack, and Jane gasped. "Miss Bella! You slept in the chair all night?"

Before I could respond, she hurried in with a thick blanket, draping it over my shoulders. "You'll catch cold sleeping like this."

I pulled the blanket tighter, grateful for its warmth. My eyes felt swollen and raw from crying.

Jane knelt beside the chair, her weathered face creased with concern. "Miss Bella, I know you're carrying a pain I can't even imagine. But Diana—her greatest wish was for you to live well. To be happy. She wouldn't want to see you destroying yourself like this."

The kindness in her voice made my throat tighten. I looked away, blinking back fresh tears. Jane didn't know the truth—didn't know what Diana had confessed in that video. She only knew the woman who had raised me, the mother who had seemed to love me.

But what did that love mean now? Was it real, or just guilt wearing the mask of affection? Diana had helped Brandon steal me from my birth mother. She had lived with that secret for twenty-nine years.

And yet, she had also left me everything. Had tried, in the end, to make things right.

I didn't know how to reconcile those two truths. Didn't know if I should love her or hate her or feel something in between that had no name.

"I know," I said quietly, my voice hoarse. "I know she loved me."

In her own complicated, broken way.

I pressed my hand against my temples, trying to ease the dull throb behind my eyes. "I just need time, Jane. To process everything."

"Of course." Jane patted my knee gently. "But for now, you need to take care of yourself. And that baby you're carrying. Come downstairs and eat something. Please."

She was right. Whatever turmoil was raging inside me, I still had a responsibility to the life growing in my womb. The one pure, uncomplicated thing in my chaotic existence.

I nodded and pushed myself out of the chair, my body protesting every movement.

---

After forcing down some toast and tea—more for the baby's sake than my own—I retreated to the study. I needed to find out where that psychiatric facility was.

The name from my mother's video was seared into my memory: Graymist Psychiatric Sanctuary.

I typed it into the search bar and waited. The facility's website was sparse and clinical, offering little beyond vague promises of "compassionate long-term care for patients with severe mental health conditions."

I dug deeper, cross-referencing location data. Finally, I found it: Graymist was located in a remote area outside Mossglen, about six hours' drive from Emberhold. Deliberately isolated, tucked away in the mountains.

My hands clenched into fists on the desk. Brandon had chosen a place far enough from Emberhold that I would never randomly encounter my birth mother. A place where she could be forgotten, erased from existence as thoroughly as if she'd actually died.

The rage inside me flared hotter.

I was about to close the laptop when I remembered the envelope. There had been more than just the USB drive. I retrieved it from my nightstand and carefully emptied the contents onto the desk.

A single photograph slipped out.

My breath caught. It was from my wedding day—three years ago, when I'd been so stupidly in love with Ethan Grave. In the photo, I stood beside him in my white dress, gazing up at him with such open adoration it made me sick.

"God, I was such a fool," I whispered.

But as I stared at the image, something else caught my attention. In the background, slightly out of focus, was a figure. A man, his face partially turned away, but his profile strikingly familiar.

I pulled the photo closer, squinting. That jawline. That posture.

It looked like Victor Hunt.

But that was impossible. Three years ago, Victor would have been in Mossglen, running his family's business empire. He had no reason to be at a random wedding in Emberhold.

I shook my head. It was just someone who happened to look like him. My grief-addled brain was seeing patterns where none existed.

---

A sharp knock on the front door interrupted my thoughts around noon. I heard Jane's footsteps, then her voice, tight with disapproval.

"Mr. Grave, Miss Bella doesn't wish to see anyone right now."

My jaw clenched. Ethan. Of course.

"I need to speak with her," Ethan's voice carried through the house, impatient. "It's important."

"She said no visitors. Please leave."

"Jane, don't make this difficult. Just tell her I'm here."

I stood abruptly, anger flooding through me. I stormed down the hallway. Jane stood in the doorway, blocking Ethan's entry.

"Jane, it's fine," I said coldly. "I'll deal with him."

She stepped aside reluctantly.

Ethan looked terrible. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and there was a faint bruise on his temple—from where I'd hit him with the vase. Good.

"Bella," he started. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't." I kept my tone flat. "Get off my property."

"I tried calling. You blocked my number."

"Because I don't want to talk to you. Ever again."

His jaw tightened. "I know you're upset about what happened at the funeral—"

"Upset?" The word came out as a harsh laugh. "Ethan, you and your whore killed my mother. And then you showed up at her funeral and defended that woman in front of her body."

"That's not what happened," he protested. "I need to tell you what actually happened that night. Your mother—"

"Don't," I cut him off sharply. "Don't you dare talk about my mother."

"Bella, listen to me. When Faye and I ran into Diana in the hospital, she wasn't upset. She was calm. We talked, and she—"

"She what?" I demanded, my voice rising. "She gave you her blessing? Told you it was fine to destroy her daughter's life?"

"No, that's not—" He stopped, clearly struggling with how to explain. "She told me she knew. About us. About the marriage being a political arrangement. She said she was glad we were finally ending it."

I stared at him. "You're lying."

"I'm not." His voice was quiet but firm. "She seemed... relieved, actually. That you were finally going to be free."

"If she was so calm and accepting," I said slowly, my voice shaking, "then why did she die less than an hour after talking to you?"

Ethan's expression tightened with frustration. "I don't know, Bella. Maybe something else happened after we left. Maybe someone else said something that upset her."

"Or maybe," I said coldly, "seeing her daughter's husband with his pregnant mistress was more of a shock than she let on."

"She wasn't upset," he insisted. "I'm telling you, she was completely calm the entire time we talked. Maybe..." He paused, his jaw working. "Maybe it was just her time. Maybe it was fate. Her heart was already weak—"

"Fate?" I cut him off, my voice rising with incredulous rage. "You're going to stand there and tell me my mother's death was fate? That it's just a coincidence she died right after running into you and Faye?"

"I'm saying I don't know what happened!" His own frustration was showing now. "But I know what I saw. She wasn't angry. She wasn't crying. She talked to us like... like she'd made peace with everything."

"How convenient for you," I said bitterly. "My mother dies, and you get to tell yourself she was fine with it all. That she blessed your affair. That her death had nothing to do with you."

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"Yes, it is." I stepped closer, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You want to absolve yourself of guilt. But I know what I know, Ethan. You stood in that hospital and told Faye it would be convenient if my mother died. I heard you."

His face went pale. "You heard that?"

"Every word."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely shaken now. "That was... I was just talking through the political implications. I didn't mean I wanted her to die."

"What's the difference?" I shot back. "The moment you heard she was in a coma, you started calculating how it would benefit you. That's who you are, Ethan. A cold bastard who sees everyone as pieces on a chessboard."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" My voice rose. "You want to talk about fair? Nothing about what you've done to me is fair."

He took a step forward. "Bella, I know I've made mistakes—"

"Mistakes? Is that what we're calling adultery and emotional abuse now?"

"I'm trying to apologize!"

"I don't want your apology. I don't want anything from you except for you to go through with the rejection ceremony and break this bond."

"We can't do the ceremony yet. There's a six-month waiting period. And in the meantime, you're still legally my Luna."

The words hit like a physical blow. Still his Luna. Still tied to him.

"Don't," I said, my voice shaking. "Don't you dare use that word. Get out."

"We still need to discuss—"

"Get. Out." I stepped forward, my wolf rising close to the surface.

Ethan raised his hands and stepped back. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over. There's a business dinner tomorrow night—important people from both Mossglen and Emberhold will be there. As my Luna, you have an obligation to attend."

I laughed bitterly. "My mother just died, and you want me to play dress-up at your networking event?"

"It's not optional, Bella. According to our dissolution agreement, you're required to maintain appearances until the bond is officially broken. If you refuse, you forfeit the settlement."

The threat hung in the air. Five hundred million dollars—the price for my freedom.

But I wasn't thinking about the money. I was thinking about how pathetic he looked, standing there trying to use contracts and obligations to control me.

"You're really going to hold that over my head? Right now? When I'm grieving?"

"I'm reminding you of the terms we agreed to." His tone was businesslike. "The dinner is at seven. I'll send a car."

"Go ahead," I said coolly. "Take it back. All of it. The five hundred million. I don't need your money, Ethan."

His face went blank with shock. "What?"

"You heard me. Keep your settlement. I don't want it."

"Bella, don't be stupid. Without that money, you'll have nothing. Brandon's not going to let you back into Wildfire Pack, and with your abilities—"

"With my abilities, what?" I cut him off, my voice sharp. "You think I'm incapable of surviving on my own? That I need you or your family's charity?"

His expression shifted, uncertainty flickering across his features. "That's not what I meant. I just—look, you're being emotional right now. You need to think practically about your future."

"Oh, I am thinking about my future," I said softly, dangerously. "And you're not in it. But since you're so concerned about practicality, let me give you something to think about."

I stepped closer, staring straight into his eyes without flinching.

"The Grave family owes me a debt. For my mother's death. For three years of humiliation. For everything you and your family have put me through. And trust me, Ethan—you're all going to pay it back. With interest."

His jaw clenched. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise." I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Now get off my property before I have you removed."

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. Then Ethan shook his head slowly.

"You've changed," he said quietly. "I don't even recognize you anymore."

"Good," I replied. "The woman you knew—the one who loved you, who tried so hard to be what you wanted—she's dead. You killed her. And soon, Ethan, you're going to meet the real me."

Something flickered in his eyes—regret, maybe, or fear. But I didn't care anymore.

He turned to leave, but I wasn't done yet.

"Ethan," I called out, my voice stopping him mid-step. "One more thing."

He turned back, wariness in his expression.

"That night in the parking garage," I said slowly, deliberately. "When you and Faye were in your car. You really think that was just a moment of impulse? A one-time loss of control?"

His face went rigid. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking you to think." I tilted my head, watching him closely. "Doesn't it strike you as odd? That you suddenly couldn't control yourself? That you just had to have her right there, right then, in a public parking garage?"

"Bella, I don't—"

"You're smarter than this, Ethan." My voice was almost gentle now, which seemed to unnerve him more than my anger had. "Or at least, you used to be. Before you started thinking with your dick instead of your brain."