Camilla
“Confirmation received. LUPA had accepted your application to the American Consulate. You had 72 hours to prepare. Were you absolutely sure about this decision, Ms. Navarro?” the woman on the screen asked.
“Yes, I was sure.” I signed the digital form on my tablet with a calm hand but a storming heart.
After ten years—ten long years—of giving everything I had: my time, energy, my dreams, and my heart… all to become Santiago’s mate and a mother my daughter, Gabriella, could be proud of, it still hadn’t been enough. Nothing I did had ever mattered to them.
Our bond had never officially been blessed by the Elder spirits. One time, I brought it up to Santiago while he was nose-deep in one of his business books.
“Do you remember we still haven’t gotten our bond blessed in Hoh Forest?” I had asked gently.
He didn’t even look up. “Why were you still hung up on that? We’d been together for ten years, and nothing had ever gone wrong with our bond. It was just superstition. We were living in the 21st century, Camilla, not the Dark Ages. Stop clinging to folklore. I was trying to read.”
I went quiet and stepped out to take down the laundry. Gabriella had just come back from archery practice and overheard us.
“Mom, you’re kinda funny. Everyone else’s parents used AI to get advice. You’re out here still talking to spirits. C’mon, help me clean my gear. I’m tired.”
I bit my tongue and did as she asked. When I finished organizing her equipment, a notification popped up on my tablet. A large withdrawal had been made from my account—tickets to Shanghai under the names Santiago, Gabriella, and... Jennifer.
Of course.
I sighed. That hadn’t been the first time Santiago had used my money without telling me. But it would damn well be the last.
Right after confirming my acceptance as the sole U.S. Consulate for LUPA, I booked my own ticket to Washington. I needed to seek the ancestors' blessing—for myself this time.
I didn’t need a mate who dismissed me. I didn’t need a daughter who mocked me. And I sure as hell didn’t need a family that only saw me when they needed something.
From then on, I chose me. I deserved that much.
**
**
I was sweeping fallen Bradford pear leaves off the side porch when Santiago came home from work, his face sour like old milk.
“Camilla, we needed to talk. It was about Gabriella,” he muttered, dropping his keys on the bench.
I set the leaf rake against the wall and walked over to him, brushing a leaf off my shoulder.
Santiago reached out and held my hand, his grip loose but heavy. “It was about the archery camp fees. Looked like we’d have to use your money for the deposit.”
“When was the deadline?”
“Jennifer said about a month from then,” he replied, his voice steady.
“I was hoping it’d line up with your paycheck,” I said with a sigh. “You mentioned Mr. Norton was interested in the Willow Pasadena apartment. And didn’t we agree my money would be for Gabbe’s college fund?”
Santiago stroked his hair.
“And yours would cover extracurriculars,” I reminded him, crossing my arms. “That had been our agreement for years. I even offered to help from the start, but you insisted you had it covered. It was a big amount, Santiago. And honestly, I didn’t trust the new management.”
He scoffed. “So just say it—you didn’t want to help.”
“Listen to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “This wasn’t about being selfish. I was trying to stick to the plan. We were already on a tight budget—”
“Forget it,” he cut in sharply, waving a dismissive hand. “I shouldn’t have asked. You always had an excuse. I should’ve just taken Jennifer’s offer. She was more generous than you’d ever be.”
He turned on his heel and stormed inside, muttering curses under his breath before slamming the door so hard the porch floor vibrated.
I stared after him in silence, then glanced down at the half-swept porch.
Screw the leaves.
I walked inside and grabbed my phone, my fingers trembling only slightly as I pulled up the banking app. I called the bank and requested an early withdrawal from my deposit account.
Penalty be damned.
If it helped Gabbe, it was worth it.
An hour later, the funds had cleared. I went upstairs to tell Santiago he could use the money.
“Santiago, the money was available now. You could use it for Gabbe’s archery.”
He was toweling his wet hair, fresh out of the shower. He rolled his eyes with a long, bored sigh.
“Too late. Jennifer already paid. Soon as I asked, she wired it over with the receipt. You know, if you’d been half as responsive as she was—”
“You could pay her back—with the money I just unlocked.”
“She didn’t want it back. Jen said Gabbe felt like her own daughter. Honestly, sometimes I wondered—were you Gabbe’s mother, or was she?”
That had hit me like a brick to the chest. I dropped my phone. I didn’t even bother picking it up.
I walked outside to finish sweeping, tears burning behind my eyes.
There had always been Jennifer. In every argument. In every decision. In every part of my life with Santiago, Jennifer had been the shadow cast over us. Over me.
She hadn’t even been my real sister. Just a half. Our dad—Alpha Emanuel of the Allegiant Howls—had taken her in after her mother and my little sister had died in that wildfire in Colorado. He had raised her like his own.
I wiped my cheeks. The wind disguised the sound of my crying. Not that it mattered. I didn’t want Santiago to hear and call me dramatic again.
I had never complained. About the housework. The hours. The loneliness. But every time he compared me to Jennifer, a part of me had died quietly—on the side porch, in the bathroom, in places I could cry alone.
Dad had never approved of Santiago. He had told me an Alpha’s blood shouldn’t be bonded to someone like him.
I had thought I could prove him wrong. I had been wrong.
Santiago had trapped me in a life where I gave and gave, and it had never been enough.
I looked at my calloused palms—hardened by endless chores. My clothes were dusty and stained with dirt from the yard. This hadn’t been who I used to be.
Gabriella’s voice broke my thoughts.
“Mom, I didn’t want homemade lunches anymore. Everyone made fun of me. They said I was poor and old-fashioned.”
“Gabbe…”
“No. Just give me more lunch money, okay?” she snapped, then ran upstairs before I could say anything.
There it was. Another reminder for me.
I had been invisible in this house.
