Chapter 3: The Last Thread

“Evelyn, even if you hate me, you can’t just push me!”

The scent of her fear bloomed in the air.

It triggered the protective instincts of my parents and Lucien simultaneously.

My mother rushed over and cradled Vivian, checking her for injuries.

“The switch at birth wasn't your fault.”

“You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“Evelyn just refuses to accept reality.”

My father strode over and slapped me again.

“How dare you attack her in our home!”

“We only asked you to withdraw from a Luna competition you aren't suited for.”

“You never received proper training. You can’t control your emotions.”

“Why should Lucien hand over Storm Ridge to someone like you?”

I had thought, after dying once, that these words could no longer hurt me.

But years of buried pain still clawed their way up from the depths of my soul.

“If I’m unsuitable, is she?”

“If her birth mother hadn’t switched us, she would never have been written into the Hart bloodline.”

“She would never have qualified for an alliance with Lucien.”

I looked at Lucien.

“He and I were together for nearly ten years, since our academy days.”

“I was always his promised mate.”

“And now you’re telling me I’m the one who stole him?”

My father’s Alpha pressure intensified.

“Do not use that tone with us.”

“We were the ones who restored your Hart surname.”

“We were the ones who made the Ironwood Pack accept you.”

“Your home, your resources, your reputation—they all came from us.”

“Of course the Hart family has the right to decide who we support.”

My mother added coldly, “If you refuse to clarify this publicly, we’ll have your name removed from the family bloodline records.”

A profound exhaustion washed over me.

“Then remove it.”

I straightened my shoulders and spoke the formal words of severance.

“I, Evelyn Hart, willingly sever my subordinate bond with the Ironwood Pack.”

“From this moment on, I will no longer ask this place for residence, protection, or status.”

As the words left my mouth, the remnant of the pack’s heart-link in my soul snapped completely.

My parents’ expressions changed in unison.

I had surrendered everything tied to my old pack, and I was no longer subject to the Harts. My soul-body faded another layer.

Since they had never truly loved me, I would no longer beg for their recognition.

I turned to leave, but Lucien stepped forward and seized my wrist.

“Apologize to Vivian first.”

“Never.”

He flung me away.

My forehead struck the sharp corner of a table.

Blood streamed down, blurring my vision.

“That’s the price for hurting Vivian,” Lucien said.

I was about to speak when my suitcase fell to the floor, the lock springing open.

Everyone looked over.

The clothes and documents I had packed were gone. The dead cannot take the belongings of the living.

Only one thing remained inside: a photograph, framed with a black mourning border.

The face in the photo was mine.

My parents and Lucien all froze.

“What is this?” My mother’s voice was tight. “Why do you have a memorial photo of yourself?”

My father stepped closer.

“Evelyn, explain yourself.”

They finally seemed to want to look at me, but at that moment, Vivian collapsed, clutching her ankle and crying out in pain.

The three of them, who had just been closing in on me, immediately spun toward her.

“We’ll take you to the healing center right away,” my mother said.

My father was already telling the guards to prepare the car.

Lucien paused in the doorway.

“Stay here,” he ordered me. “Wait for us to get back.”

I didn’t answer. I just crouched down and placed my memorial photo back in the suitcase.

In the past, I was always waiting.

Waiting for Lucien to fulfill his promise.

Waiting for my parents to see that I was worthy of their love.

Waiting for the Ironwood Pack to truly accept me as one of their own.

Now, I was done waiting.

We would never see each other again.

As the last thread of attachment snapped, my temporary shell began to dissipate, starting from my fingertips, until it vanished completely.