Chapter 18: Return to the Pack–2
“This is the finest herbal tea from Harbor City. It’s for you,” I said, my voice warm with
affection.
Agatha laughed through her tears, clutching the box to her chest. “I’ll make some for you
tonight.”
I gently shook my head, my amber eyes soft. “No, it’s specially for you. I’ve had plenty already. This is just a small token of my gratitude for all you’ve done.”
Agatha was so touched her eyes brimmed with tears again. “Miss Olivia…” she murmured,
unable to say more.
Before our reunion could deepen, a crisp young voice interrupted us.
“Sister! Sister, you’re back!”
An eight–year–old girl dashed forward from inside the house and hugged my leg tightly, her face shining with innocent delight.
This was Grace Winters, my half–sister, born to Natalie Winters and my father after my mother’s death. Her bright eyes looked up at me with pure adoration.
Grace had always adored me, clinging to me whenever possible during my rare visits home. But I had never warmed to her, despite her persistent affection.
My dislike stemmed largely from my resentment of Natalie Winters–my late mother’s supposed best friend, who had married my father not long after my mother’s death.
In my mind, Natalie was a scheming interloper who stole my mother’s place, and my father was a heartless betrayer who dishonored their marriage. Because of this, I had transformed from a well–behaved daughter into someone rebellious and distant.
Now, seeing Natalie approaching with a smile, my expression froze involuntarily.
“Grace heard you were back and couldn’t wait to come home early from school,” Natalie said warmly, her voice gentle and welcoming.
The warmth in her tone only deepened my discomfort. How dare she act like everything was normal? Like she hadn’t betrayed my mother’s memory?
Natalie continued in that same gentle tone, “You must be tired, Olivia. Rest well, I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”
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Meanwhile, Grace eagerly tugged at my hand, her eyes bright with excitement. “Sister, come
look at my new drawings in my room? I made a picture of a white wolf just like you said you
wanted to be when you were little!”
I coldly withdrew my hand, unable to bear her innocent touch. “No. I want to rest,” I said, my
voice frosty.
Disappointment washed over the little girl’s face. She pouted and lowered her head, her joy snuffed out by my rejection.
Natalie quickly took Grace away, her face still smiling politely though her eyes betrayed her
hurt. I felt a twinge of guilt seeing Grace’s crestfallen expression, but I hardened my heart
against it.
Agatha, sensing the awkwardness, excused herself to prepare my old room. “I’ve kept it just as
you left it, Miss Olivia. Fresh sheets every week, dusted daily.”
Once they were all gone, I shut the door to my room and finally breathed in the quiet. My heart felt heavy with unspoken pain and anger that three years away had done nothing to diminish.
I looked around the familiar space–my childhood bedroom preserved exactly as I’d left it. The light blue walls, the bookshelf filled with law textbooks, the framed photo of my mother and
me on the nightstand.
Running my fingers over the photo frame, I whispered, “I’m home, Mom.”
(Richard’s POV)
When night fell, I returned home from a long day of pack business. Agatha had called to
inform me of Olivia’s return, and despite my outward calm, my heart raced at the prospect of
seeing my daughter after three years.
The family gathered around the dinner table, tension thick in the air. I looked at my daughter, studying her face for changes. She had grown more beautiful, more like her mother with each
passing year.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back today?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even
despite the emotion threatening to break through.
Olivia countered with faint mockery, her amber eyes–so like her mother’s–flashing with
defiance. “Would it have mattered if I did? Or if I didn’t?”
Her tone was sharp, revealing the deep fissures between us that time had done nothing to
heal. I frowned, displeased by her attitude but unsurprised.
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“Three years have passed, yet your temperament is still so stubborn?” I said, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.
Olivia gave me a half–smile, her eyes filled with bitter irony. “Three years have passed, yet you and Natalie still haven’t divorced?”
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