Chapter 6

• Chapter 6
• The second Jordan is gone, the air around me shifts from stifling to venomous. The whispers erupt like a wildfire fueled by high-end champagne and old grudges. I don’t even have to turn around to know who is leading the charge.
• "Well, well—look who it is," a sharp, nasally voice rings out. "Isn't this Jordan’s clingy little fiancée? I’m surprised she didn't glue herself to his sleeve."
• "Funny," another woman chimes in, her eyes scanning my lavender gown with blatant envy. "Wasn't there someone who swore just days ago to the whole pack that she’d stop clinging to him? And yet, here she is, still haunting the Denton Estate like a ghost in silk."
• I let out a cold, sharp laugh that cuts through their chatter like a blade. I turn slowly, swirling the wine in my glass. "Oh? Are you suggesting Jordan will be struck by lightning now?"
• The woman flinches. She only meant to provoke me, not insult the Alpha. To suggest the Moon Goddess would strike down the pack leader is borderline heresy. "What on earth are you talking about, Rosalina?"
• My eyes glint with biting sarcasm as I step into her personal space. "I did swear to the Moon Goddess, didn't I? A formal rejection. If he is indeed struck by lightning, that means I’ve broken my vow by being here. But since the sky hasn't fallen yet, maybe I'm just here for the catering." I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, no one even knows if he's slept around or gotten struck by lightning behind closed doors yet... why don't you go and check for me? Find out if he’s still 'electrifying' in bed."
• Her friends stare at me, wide-eyed and breathless. I can see the thought running through their minds: Has Rosalina lost her mind? I’ve spent five years being the demure, silent lawyer who took every jab with a polite smile. Seeing me suggest someone seduce my own fiancé is clearly short-circuiting their social barometers.
• "Hmph. Enjoy your little moment," the leader sneers, recovering her poise. "Once Minerva shows up, you'll be nothing but background noise. You’re just a seat-warmer."
• I don't give her the satisfaction of a flinch. Naturally, the Harrisford family’s beloved adopted daughter wouldn't have missed a night like this for the world. To them, she is the sun, and I am the eclipse that stayed too long.
• "Rosalina! Kyana and I have been calling you nonstop. Why didn't you pick up?"
• I turn slowly to face Kyana Steele, my irritation plain as day. Standing beside her is Regina Miller, my stepmother, wearing a smile so saccharine it makes my teeth ache.
• "Lina, dear," Regina says, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Didn't you say you'd go get the marriage license with Jordan on Valentine's Day? We’ve been waiting for the announcement. Why haven't you posted it in the family chat?"
• I look away, pulling my phone out of my bag with exaggerated boredom. "Oops. I must've left the family chat by accident. You three are doing just fine without me—I doubt you'd even notice my absence between all your self-congratulatory selfies."
• My father, Donald Steele, isn't even here tonight. He’s likely hiding in the smoking lounge or hovering near the buffet. My mother died when I was three, and three months after her funeral, he remarried. That was the day my own father became nothing more than a stranger in my life. I am an orphan with a living parent—a special kind of loneliness.
• "Rosalina, what's that supposed to mean?" Kyana snaps, stepping forward. "Show my mom some respect!"
• Before I can reply, Kyana's eyes light up, looking past me toward the entrance. "Minerva’s here! Mom, I'm going over!"
• Regina keeps her smile in place, though her eyes remain cold as stones. "Be careful, Kyana. Don't fall." She turns back to me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Don't pay her any mind. Kyana's just impulsive. She and Minerva are best friends, and after five years apart, it's only natural they're this excited."
• She pauses, leaning in to needle the wound she thinks is still open. "By the way… does Jordan know his sister is back? I heard he spent the whole night at her hotel."
• Everyone in this room knows just how deeply Jordan dotes on Minerva. He spoiled her so shamelessly growing up that the pack used to whisper that if she hadn't been adopted, she would have been his chosen Luna. Years ago, Old Mr. Harrisford quashed those rumors—Minerva was a daughter of the house, nothing more. Or so the story went.
• I press my lips into a thin line, refusing to give Regina the reaction she craves. I am no longer the fragile girl who can be hurt by the ghost of a sister.
• Regina’s smile widens as she spots a figure striding toward us across the hall. It’s Jordan, his presence cutting through the crowd like a shark through water. "Lina, who would've thought… after five years apart, Jordan still adores his little sister this much? Look at him rushing back."
• A tightness coils in my chest, but it’s not heartbreak. It’s pure, unadulterated disgust. "You're right, Regina. He is devoted. But tell me something... do you think Jordan knows his precious sister's best friend—your daughter—is in love with him too?"
• Regina’s smile falters instantly. Her composure cracks. "Come now, Lina, you're being ridiculous. Kyana isn't trying to steal your man."
• I smile softly, feeling a strange sense of peace. "It's quite all right. She can have the leftovers. I’m done with him."
• Regina stares at me, stunned. "Lina, you..." Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Jordan, who has reached us. "Jordan... Lina was only teasing you just now."
• Beside Jordan stands Minerva. Her platinum hair cascades over her shoulders, perfectly complementing her fresh, simple white dress. She looks like an angel, while I, in my lavender silk, look like the storm.
• "Rosalina," Minerva says, her voice soft and melodic. "Are you still upset with Jordan about what happened at the airport? I feel so terrible about the misunderstanding."
• Kyana curls her lips in a mocking smirk. "Honestly, Rosalina, how do you even find it in yourself to be angry at him? He was being a good brother."
• None of this seems to matter to Jordan, though. He isn't looking at Minerva or Kyana. His gaze is dropped to me, sharp and calculating, his eyes dark with a brewing storm. Slowly, he repeats my words back to me with deliberate, terrifying clarity.
• "What did you just say you're done with?"
• I meet his gaze head-on. I give him a disdainful smile, the kind you give a particularly slow child. "So, Mr. Harrisford, you don't hear well, huh?"
• I take a step closer, ensuring the scent of my perfume—and not his pheromones—dominates the space between us. I speak firmly, loud enough for the surrounding gossips to hear.
• "I said I'm done with you.”