LOGINIvonne's pov “What am I supposed to think?!” I screamed. “Tell me! Because I’m losing my Fucking mind!” And I wasn't even joking! I just felt a guttural instinct to spill blood!Lora held my shoulders even more firmly, as if she could sense my intent. “I know. I know Ivonne. I know that you’re hurt. And angry. And terrified. But listen to me—this isn’t enough proof. This is you looking at the worst possible explanation because you’ve been traumatized by everything he put you through.” Her words dug into me like sharp needles. Because deep down… I knew she wasn’t lying. “You’re desperate for someone to blame,” Lora said softly. “And after everything Lincoln did to you… of course you want it to be him.” My breathing slowed just a little. Not calm. But not out of control. “I don’t want him to be the murderer,” I whispered. “I don’t want any of this to be real.” “I know.” Lora squeezed my hands. “But you can’t storm into his room and accuse him based on this. That’s not ho
Ivonne's pov “What if Lincoln paid the hospital to kill my mother?”Lora frowned in confusion. "Ivonne, I'm not sure what you mean -- wait Ivonne!" I didn’t even realize what I was doing until the sharp sound of tearing paper snapped through the dining room. Rip. Rip. Rip. I tore through the receipts like they were alive and I needed them dead. My hands were shaking so violently that a few of the pieces fluttered to the floor like snow. “Whoa—Ivonne!” Lora jumped from her seat, her eyes wide as she grabbed my wrist. “What in the goddess’s name are you doing?! Why are you tearing those?” I jerked my hand back, my breath ragged. “Because I know Lincoln killed her.” Lora froze. Completely froze. “Killed who exactly?” “My mother,” I spat, voice cracking as I tore through another receipt. “He killed my mother!” Lora blinked rapidly, her face contorting in shock. “Ivonne, what?! How—why—what are you talking about? Everyone knows she died from heart failure!” I let out an ugly, hys
Ivonne's POVBy the time I reached the dining room, I could smell the warm aroma of pastries and something buttery. My stomach actually growled at me. I hadn’t even realized how hungry I was after the chaos of yesterday. I had barely even remembered to eat.Lora was already there, arranging plates like she ran the place.Which she practically did with the butler.She turned when she heard me enter. “Good morning, dear.”“Morning,” I murmured, sliding into my seat.She didn’t even wait for my next breath before she began setting down dish after dish—freshly baked croissants, scrambled eggs with cheese, sliced fruit, a warm cup of tea, and even the yogurt parfait I always pretended I didn’t like even though everyone knew I adored it.I blinked. “Lora… this is a lot.”She grinned knowingly. “Blame Alpha Hector. He pre-ordered everything. Said you’d need a proper breakfast today, He even went into the kitchen to make sure they were extra nicely done.”My chest tightened in a soft, unfami
Ivonne’s POVI don’t know what part of me had shifted over the last few days, but as I watched Hector step in front of me on the stairs, with his shoulders tense, eyes darkening, and his jaw locked, I was forcing myself to face and accept something that would’ve shocked the Ivonne from a few months ago:…I actually liked this domininat side of him.Not the unhealthy kind. Not the controlling kind. Just… the way he stood for me. The way he moved without thinking, as if shielding me was his reflex.It actually felt good to let myself breathe even for just a bit.Still, Lincoln and Hector glaring murder at each other on the staircase wasn’t exactly how I wanted my morning to start.“Okay, enough.” I stepped between them, putting a hand on Hector’s chest before his wolf decided to appear fully. “Stop it. Both of you.”Lincoln scoffed. “Tell your guard wolf to calm down.”"Watch it pup!" Hector growled low, but I pressed firmer on his chest. “Hector. Leave it.”He didn’t look convinced, bu
Ivonne's pov I don’t know how long I just sat there staring at him, but my brain definitely wasn’t working. Hector’s voice kept replaying again and again in my head like it was on a broken loop. Chelsea isn’t dead. His fated mate. Alive. How was I supposed to process that? My lips parted, but nothing came out at first, just a shaky breath that didn’t even reach my lungs properly. “You… she’s alive?” I finally managed to whisper. The words sounded tiny, embarrassed even. Hector nodded slowly, his expression calm but shadowed. “Yes. Chelsea is alive.” My heart stuttered painfully. I felt like someone had dropped ice water down my spine. “I… when— when is she coming back?” I immediately regretted asking the second it came out. It sounded stupid. Too eager. Too insecure. But I couldn’t stop myself. “I mean—will she? Ever?” He shook his head. “No. She won’t. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in over fourteen years.” Fourteen. Years. That was longer than I’d even known the St
IVONNE’S POVThe moment the question slipped out of my mouth, I wanted to eat it back.Hector turned to stone beneath me — solid, frozen, painfully still — and I felt my stomach drop straight out of my body.Why did I say that?Why now?Why when everything finally felt calm?“I—I didn’t mean to ask that now—” I started, mortified.He didn’t let me finish.“Ivonne.” His hand gently but firmly held my chin, making me meet his eyes. “Don’t take it back.”I swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want to ruin the mood. I don’t want you to feel—”“You asked because you deserve to know.” His voice was quiet, steady, but heavy… like every word carried weight. “And because you’re about to be my wife.”That last part made my heart jump, but I didn’t push it.He let out a long breath, the kind someone exhales when they’ve been holding something in for years.“Chelsea and I met when we were eighteen,” he began.Chelsea?The name alone made my chest tighten in an uncomfortable way. I imm







