The cramping subsided by morning, leaving behind an exhausting, hollow ache.
I sat upright on the edge of the mattress, my palms resting flat against my stomach. My pup gave a faint, rhythmic flutter beneath my skin, as if assuring me he had survived the night.
The heavy bolt on the outside of the door rattled.
I expected another healer with sedatives, or Victor coming to bark more orders. Instead, my mother walked into the room, followed by two household maids carrying garment bags and a vanity kit.
Mother looked me over, her gaze skimming past my pale face to assess the curve of my belly.
"Get up and bathe," she said, motioning for the maids to lay the dresses on the armchair. "Today is Celeste and Gavin's second Luna Anniversary banquet. Half the southern council and every high-ranking family in the territory are already arriving downstairs."
I stared at her, not moving an inch. "You locked me in a medical ward because you said I was unstable. Now you want me at a party?"
"Victor and I decided it would look suspicious if the eldest daughter hid in the east wing during a family milestone," Mother replied smoothly. "You need to look presentable and support your sister."
A wave of sharp clarity washed through my mind.
They didn't care about family unity. If they truly feared my defiance, they would have kept me drugged behind a locked door. Bringing me downstairs meant one thing: they wanted an audience. They needed the entire pack to see me standing beside Celeste, creating a picture of willing cooperation.
"Fine," I said quietly, getting to my feet. "I'll wear the dress."
Mother seemed surprised by how quickly I agreed, but she quickly masked it with a satisfied nod.
"Good. At least you're learning to be practical."
I let the maids style my hair into an elegant knot and help me into a floor-length emerald gown. The fabric was tailored loose around my chest but gathered tightly beneath my ribs, putting my six-month bump on full display.
When they finished, two pack guards escorted me down the grand staircase.
The estate's ballroom was bathed in warm chandelier light. Crystal glasses chimed against silver trays, and the low hum of polite conversation filled the vast hall. Dozens of Silver Crest wolves stood in small clusters, dressed in formal suits and evening gowns.
At the center of the room stood Celeste, wearing an ivory silk dress, her arm linked with her mate, Gavin. She looked radiant, greeting guests with easy charm.
When Victor spotted me by the entrance, he signaled to the crowd and stepped up to the raised platform at the head of the ballroom. He tapped the side of his crystal champagne flute with a silver spoon.
The room went completely quiet. Every face turned toward the stage.
"Thank you all for gathering tonight," Victor’s voice resonated through the microphone, deep and authoritative. "As Silver Crest's former Alpha, nothing brings me greater pride than seeing our pack thrive. Two years ago, we celebrated the union between my daughter Celeste and Gavin. Today, we celebrate something even greater for our future."
He gestured for Celeste and Gavin to join him on stage.
Celeste stepped up with practiced grace, leaning against Gavin’s shoulder while resting one hand delicately against her own flat stomach.
"The strength of Silver Crest lies in our lineage," Victor continued, his chest swelling with pride. "And tonight, I am honored to share that the next generation of our bloodline is on the way. Celeste and Gavin are expecting an Alpha heir."
A ripple of excited whispers swept through the hall before erupting into polite applause.
Victor raised a hand to quiet the crowd, his gaze shifting directly to where I stood by the edge of the room.
"This miracle was made possible by true family devotion," Victor announced, his tone dripping with false warmth. "My eldest daughter, Elara, knowing the pack's urgent need for an heir, selflessly stepped forward. Out of deep love for her sister, she volunteered to carry this child so Celeste could fulfill her dream of motherhood."
The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause.
Pack elders nodded in deep approval, while several high-ranking women dabbed at their eyes with silk handkerchiefs.
Celeste bowed her head, a single, picture-perfect tear slipping down her cheek. She reached out toward the crowd, pressing a hand over her heart as if she were the one who had spent months enduring the morning sickness, the body changes, and the pain.
She wasn't just claiming the pup. She was absorbing all the honor of the sacrifice.
Before I could take a step back, Mother’s fingers locked around my elbow like an iron vise.
"Smile," Mother hissed under her breath, pushing me forward into the open aisle. "Walk up there and do what you're supposed to do."
She dragged me toward the stage, her grip digging deep into the flesh of my arm. The crowd parted, showering me with warm smiles and approving murmurs.
"Such a noble sister," one elder remarked as I passed.
"A true credit to the Quinn family," another whispered.
Mother shoved me onto the wooden platform, right into the center of the blinding stage lights.
Victor stepped back, gesturing toward the microphone. Mother leaned into my ear, her voice a sharp, venomous thread beneath the applause.
"Thank your sister," Mother commanded quietly. "Tell them how grateful you are that Celeste and Gavin are taking this fatherless rogue pup and giving him a noble name. Say it, Elara, or you won't leave this estate alive."
Celeste turned to me, her eyes shining with triumphant malice.
Before the entire room, she stepped forward and placed both of her manicured hands firmly over the swell of my belly. She stroked the rounded curve under the bright chandelier glare, making sure every elder and council member saw the possessive gesture.
"We are going to give him the world, Elara," Celeste spoke into the microphone on her lapel, her voice trembling with manufactured emotion. "Gavin and I will raise him with so much love. And when he grows up, we will make sure he always knows how much his dear Aunt Elara sacrificed to bring him into this world."
A chorus of soft sighs echoed from the crowd.
My skin burned where her palms touched me. The suffocating weight of their lies, their theft, and their absolute entitlement snapped the last remaining tether of my restraint.
I didn't smile. I didn't bow my head.
I reached out with both hands and ripped the microphone straight out of Victor’s grip.
The metal squealed with a sudden burst of feedback, piercing through the ballroom.
The guests fell silent, startled by the harsh sound.
Celeste's smile froze. Victor's eyes widened in sudden fury, his hand darting out to grab my wrist, but I stepped back, out of his reach.
I brought the microphone to my lips.
My voice echoed through the massive hall, clear, steady, and loud enough to rattle the chandeliers.
"I am not a surrogate."
The ballroom plunged into absolute, suffocating silence. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
I looked directly into Celeste's wide, horrified eyes, then turned to face the entire assembly of pack elders.
"This is my son," I declared, my words cutting through the air like a blade. "He belongs to me and my mate. And Celeste will never be his mother."
For a second, the room remained frozen in utter shock.
Then Celeste let out a choked gasp, dropping her face into her hands as she burst into loud, theatrical tears against Gavin’s chest. Gavin glared at me in outrage, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame.
Victor’s face turned an ugly, mottled purple.
With a violent swing of his arm, he struck the microphone out of my hand. The heavy metal crashed against the hardwood stage with a deafening boom before tumbling down the steps.
"She’s suffering from prenatal hysteria!" Victor roared to the crowd, his Alpha aura flaring in a desperate attempt to maintain control. "The hormones have clouded her mind!"
He whipped around toward the perimeter of the room. "Guards! Take her back to the medical wing immediately!"
Four heavy pack enforcers rushed up the stairs, surrounding me.
They reached for my shoulders, ready to drag me away by force.
I didn't scream. I didn't flail, cry, or fight against their hands.
I stood completely straight, pulling my arms free with calm authority, and locked my gaze onto Victor.
"Touch me again," I said, my voice quiet, cold, and deadly, "and you'll regret what answers."
