Adalyn POV:
I didn't knock.
The heavy oak door to Martha Kent's study swung open under my hand, revealing my stepmother reclining in a plush armchair, a delicate teacup in her hand.
She frowned, her carefully constructed composure cracking. "Adalyn. Where are your manners? The ceremony is in a few hours. You shouldn't be wandering around."
I ignored her reprimand. I walked directly to her ornate desk and placed a folded document on the polished wood. A summary of the trust established by my mother, Eleonora Beaumont.
Martha glanced at it, then waved a dismissive hand. A small, cruel smile played on her lips. "What's the point of looking at this now? It will be transferred as part of your dowry once you're mated to Beckham. Though frankly, I'm surprised you can even understand what's written there. A wolfless Omega with no real education—I'm shocked you managed to find the document at all."
I let the insult slide off me like water. In my first life, it would have stung. Now, it was merely ammunition.
"No," I said. My voice was calm, but it held the unyielding weight of iron. "I want it now. According to the terms of the trust, full control transfers to me upon my union with an Alpha. The ceremony is today."
Martha's smile vanished. She stared at me, truly seeing me for the first time. She hadn't expected the meek, wolfless girl to understand legal documents.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, trying to regain control with her usual condescending tone. "These matters are handled by your father and me. A girl like you has no business meddling in financial affairs. You should be focusing on not embarrassing this family at the ceremony."
I leaned forward, planting my hands on the desk, my face inches from hers. I held her gaze, letting her see the abyss that had replaced my innocence. "I'm not being ridiculous. And the Alpha I'm bonding with today is not Beckham Swanson."
Her teacup clattered against its saucer, brown liquid sloshing over the delicate porcelain. "What did you say?"
Just then, the door burst open again. Jasmine ran in, her face streaked with tears. "Mother! She's gone mad! Adalyn is breaking the union! She says she wants to marry that McClure cripple!"
Martha's head whipped from Jasmine to me, her eyes wide with shock and dawning horror.
I straightened up, my gaze sweeping over Jasmine's pathetic performance with cold disdain. "Whether I'm mad is irrelevant. What is relevant is that if I do not marry Beckham today, then this trust fund cannot be used as a Kent family dowry to curry favor with the Royals."
The words hit their mark. I had just articulated the ugly truth of their entire scheme.
Martha's face turned a blotchy, furious red. This fortune, my mother's fortune, was meant to secure Jasmine's future, to buy her a place of influence after I was safely married off.
"You can't do this!" Martha's voice was a shrill shriek. "This is a betrayal to your family!"
"Betrayal?" A dry laugh escaped my lips. "You spent years bleeding my inheritance dry while treating me like a servant in my own home. You dressed me in rags while your daughter wore silk. You schemed to marry me off to a man you knew would discard me the moment I was no longer useful. And you dare speak to me of betrayal?"
The barb struck a nerve. I saw a flicker of panic in her eyes. She was thinking of the years of careful embezzlement, the funds she'd siphoned from my trust for her own lavish lifestyle.
"I'm not here to negotiate, Martha," I said, my voice dropping, each word a deliberate stone cast into the placid surface of her life. "I'm here to inform you. Before I leave this estate for my ceremony, I expect the signed transfer documents for the entire trust."
I let the silence hang in the air for a moment.
"Otherwise," my eyes narrowed, "I will personally deliver the account ledgers to my mother's family lawyers. Every illegal withdrawal. Every forged signature. Every coin you stole from a dead woman's daughter. And I will make sure the audit is public."
It was a direct threat. A kill shot. An audit would ruin her. It would ruin my father.
Jasmine was still wailing. "Mother, don't give it to her! It's supposed to be mine!"
I didn't even glance at her. My focus was entirely on the woman whose greed had helped send me to my death. "You have three hours."
Without another word, I turned and walked out, my back straight, my steps even.
I could feel Martha's rage burning into my back. But I also knew, with absolute certainty, that she would yield.
As I walked down the long, sun-drenched corridor, I passed a large window overlooking the gardens. A few maids were gathered by the rose bushes, whispering amongst themselves. They glanced in my direction, their expressions a mixture of pity and scorn.
Their hushed words drifted through the open window.
"... the McClure cripple..."
"... such a poor bride..."
A shard of ice pierced the calm satisfaction in my chest. Before I dealt with Beckham, before I faced Killian, I had to defend his honor. My mate's honor.
