Chapter 11

In a world where werewolves roamed alongside humans, hidden in the shadows of the ordinary, Isabella found herself at a crossroads. The untamed wolf that had yet to grow into its fangs was now an irresistible, doe - eyed pup in the form of Theodore. His presence was both a comfort and a temptation, but Isabella's thoughts were clouded by the memory of the dark emperor, a peerless figure of earthly beauty who reigned at the pinnacle of the werewolf pyramid, as unattainable as the lofty flower perched on the highest peak.

Isabella ultimately backed down. She couldn't afford to take that risk, not in a world where the wrong move could lead to unforeseen consequences. "No need," she said lightly. "For now, I'll stick to what I know best—women's fashion."

Theodore's face revealed a trace of hurt. "Fine, but when you start designing menswear, promise you'll use me as your model."

Isabella humored him with a half - hearted response. "Sure."

Throwing herself into a grueling work routine, Isabella sketched several designs for women's clothing on scrap paper. In this world where werewolf - inspired fashion trends were starting to seep into the human realm, she painstakingly selected her favorite design, cut the fabric, and sewed it into a finished garment: a grass - green high - waisted skirt paired with a chic short blazer. Layered over a soft oat - colored blouse, the outfit perfectly balanced feminine grace with a touch of boldness, perhaps unconsciously influenced by the wild allure of the werewolf world.

Clutching the completed outfit, she set out to pitch her design to local boutiques. Yet, time and again, she was turned away before even meeting the decision - makers. Shop assistants dismissed her outright, sending her packing without a second glance. In a world where werewolf - related hierarchies sometimes bled into human business, her lack of connections might have been a contributing factor.

The sleepless nights and relentless effort finally took their toll on Isabella's already fragile health. One day, as she made porridge for Theodore, her vision darkened. She collapsed onto the kitchen floor, unconscious.

When Theodore noticed her absence, he shouted, “Sis!” Receiving no reply, he hobbled from room to room searching for her. Eventually, he found her crumpled on the kitchen floor, clutching a dumpling wrapper—his favorite dish. She was curled up, utterly unresponsive.

Theodore's face went pale. In a burst of frantic energy, his werewolf instincts kicking in, he carried her down the stairs and rushed to the hospital. His strength, a sign of his emerging werewolf power, was evident as he moved with a speed that was almost inhuman.

After conducting a full examination, the doctor looked at Theodore with a puzzled expression. “The patient is missing a kidney and has surgical scars on her back. Did she recently undergo a kidney removal surgery?”

Theodore froze, his knuckles tightening into fists as his werewolf blood surged. His face turned ashen. The thought of Isabella's pain and the injustice she endured made his werewolf nature bristle with anger.

“Doctor, what does this mean for her future?” he asked, his voice choked with anguish.

The doctor studied the boy standing before him. Though he was only a teenager, his somber expression and towering height, enhanced by his werewolf genes, lent him an air of premature maturity. The fragile woman lying in the hospital bed, with her petite frame and doll - like face, looked years younger by comparison.

Mistaking their relationship, the doctor said gravely, “From now on, reduce the frequency of your... marital relations. And take proper precautions—pregnancy would be dangerous for her.”

Theodore's ears turned crimson. “I understand,” he murmured awkwardly, without clarifying the misunderstanding.

Switching to broken Chinese, the doctor added, “She’s very weak and severely malnourished. You should make her nourishing soups—chicken or pigeon broth with red dates and goji berries for her blood.”

Theodore's expression grew heavier as images of Isabella, sickly and overworked, flashed in his mind. He recalled how she stayed up late drafting designs and gave him the nutritious food while she endured her own suffering in silence. How could someone be so selfless, so pure - hearted, yet so foolish? The thought made his chest ache, and his werewolf protectiveness flared up.

When Isabella was transferred to a general ward, she slowly woke up. Finding herself in a hospital bed, she weakly asked, “What happened to me?”

Theodore grasped her hand, his eyes tinged red. “Sis, the doctor said you shouldn’t overwork yourself anymore. Let me take care of earning money for us from now on.”

Isabella seemed to understand. “You know, don’t you?”

Theodore nodded, his voice trembling. “Sis, I had no idea you were missing a kidney…”

Her face clouded with sorrow. Painful memories she had tried to bury resurfaced.

“I was about your age back then—young and naive,” she said, her voice soft but heavy. “When I had nowhere to turn, he took me in. He let me go to school, fed me, clothed me. I was so grateful I thought I owed him my life. And in a world where werewolves sometimes held sway over humans, I was blind to his true motives.

“So, when he needed a kidney for his white moonlight, I didn’t hesitate. I said yes.”

She paused, her pale face shadowed with bitterness. “Then one day, I accidentally overheard him talking to her. It turned out he’d only taken me in so he could have my kidney later. Every kind act of his had been calculated to ensure I’d willingly give it up four years later… That’s when I changed my mind.

“I told myself, saving her meant I didn’t owe him anymore. So, I left him.”

Her voice cracked as she began to cry uncontrollably. “Theodore, don’t trust anyone. Not even me.”

Theodore gently pulled her into his arms. She trembled like a broken doll—fragile and lost. His werewolf embrace was warm and protective, a silent promise of safety.

He softly patted her back and whispered, “Sis, I’ll protect you from now on. I’ll make sure anyone who hurt you pays for it. My werewolf strength will be your shield.”

Isabella shook her head. “Theodore, I don’t want to be like him, using gratitude as a weapon to bind you. Live for yourself. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll handle my past myself.”

Theodore’s dark eyes showed confusion. “Why are you so good to me?” The sixteen - year - old’s voice, still not fully matured, carried a low, husky charm, enhanced by his werewolf lineage.

Isabella remained silent for a long time before murmuring, “Maybe I owed you in a past life.”

Theodore seemed to ponder her words. “So debts must be repaid. I owe you my life in this one, but I won’t finish repaying it now. Next time, I’ll find you in the next life.”

Leaning forward suddenly, Theodore bit down hard on her shoulder blade, leaving a neat set of teeth marks—a stamp to seal his promise. In the werewolf culture, such a mark was a deep - seated vow, a connection that transcended lifetimes.

Isabella yelped in pain. “Ouch!”

“I’m leaving a mark,” he said seriously. “So I can find you in the next life.”

Though his words seemed playful, the unwavering sincerity in his eyes made them feel like a solemn vow.

Tears welled up in Isabella’s eyes as she gazed at him.

“A fortune teller once said I was destined for a short, miserable life. My father abandoned me, my mother despised me, and my relatives avoided me like the plague. But you—you're running toward me. Aren’t you foolish?”

Theodore smiled faintly. “If you’re destined for misfortune, then I’m the calamity star meant to balance your fate. And as a werewolf, I have the power to rewrite our fates.

“I’d say it’s not me who’s foolish—it’s your family who’s blind. Sis, you’re kind, smart, and hardworking. Being your family is the greatest blessing anyone could have.”

Isabella stroked his hair fondly. “If that’s the case, I’ll be your Sis for life. How about that?”

“Then you’ll have to protect your fragile little brother.” Theodore’s smile was as radiant as sunlight breaking through the clouds.

Isabella nodded. “Alright.”