Alea POV:
Kirt stared at me, his hand pressed to his reddening cheek. Shock morphed into pure rage.
I could feel his wolf surging, his Alpha's dominance pressing down on me, trying to force me to my knees.
In my past life, it would have worked.
But I had witnessed the power of Graydon Sinclair IV, Crown Prince and heir to the Alpha King—the man destined to become the next king of wolves.
In the Sacred Grove, he had forced a rogue dire wolf into submission with nothing but the weight of his dominance.
Compared to that raw, untamed authority, Kirt's rage was little more than a child's tantrum.
I stood my ground, unmoved.
"Kirt, your face!" Candida shrieked, rushing to his side. "Miss Alea, how could you? We were just trying to talk this out..."
Elois finally found her voice. "Alea White! That is enough! Apologize to Kirt at once!"
My gaze shifted to Katy, who stood beside her mother wearing the same wide-eyed innocence she had perfected in my first life.
The sight of her face dragged an old betrayal to the surface.
She had once given me a delicate silver locket, claiming it was a gift chosen with sisterly affection.
I had treasured it and worn it every day.
Later, the locket was exposed as a listening device that had been transmitting White Pack secrets to our rivals.
Katy denied knowing anything about it, and Elois supported every tearful lie.
Unable to prove that I had been framed, I was confined by my father and stripped of part of my inheritance rights.
That was when Kirt began distancing himself from me.
Past and present overlapped as I studied Katy's carefully arranged expression.
For one fierce instant, I wanted to tear that mask from her face with my bare hands.
I locked the impulse away and turned the heat of my anger into something colder.
Kirt mistook my silence for fear. A smirk twisted his lips. "Scared now? It's not too late to apologize."
I looked at Kirt.
"Apologize?" I asked, a low laugh escaping my lips. "Mr. Bradford, I think you've misunderstood something."
I walked to the center of the great hall, my eyes sweeping over every person present, including the servants peering from the doorways.
My voice was not loud, but it carried, clear and sharp.
"I, Alea White, first heir to the White Pack…" I paused, letting my gaze land on Kirt like a physical blow. "...hereby formally petition the Pack Elders to dissolve the betrothal between myself and Kirt Bradford."
A collective gasp went through the hall.
The words hit like a physical shockwave.
Kirt's face was a mask of disbelief.
He had expected tears, arguments, a pathetic plea.
He had never imagined this.
Dissolving the betrothal meant he would lose his one legitimate claim to the White Pack's resources.
Candida's face went pale.
Her entire future was built on the foundation of Kirt's connection to me.
Elois and Katy were just
as stunned. "Are you insane?"
Kirt hissed, rushing towards me, his voice a low growl. "Do you have any idea what dissolving this betrothal will do to the White Pack's reputation?"
"It will certainly be better than the shame of accepting a whore and her john into the family," I replied coolly.
"You—!" He was trembling with fury.
I ignored him, turning to my personal maid, Moira Nash, who stood frozen near the entryway. "Moira, prepare the petition papers. I want them submitted to the Elders immediately."
Moira, though clearly in shock, bowed her head. "Yes, miss."
The reality of the situation finally hit Kirt. He panicked. His tone softened. "Alea, wait. Let's… let's talk about this. Don't be so rash."
Candida quickly wiped her fake tears, her expression turning pleading. "Miss Alea, it's all my fault. Please don't end things with Kirt…"
I watched their pathetic act, disgust churning in my gut. I raised a hand, and Moira paused. I looked back at Kirt. "You don't want to dissolve the betrothal?"
A flicker of hope ignited in his and Candida's eyes.
A slow, mocking smile spread across my face. "Then, get this woman out of my house. Immediately. And you will get down on your knees and lick my shoes clean."
I extended my foot, the toe of my black high heel tapping lightly on the marble floor.
The humiliation was absolute.
The color drained from Kirt's face, leaving it a pasty, mottled gray.
His wolf was screaming inside him, his sanity fraying at the edges.
