"Come on, Serena, why are you lying? And what are you hiding behind that scarf?" Lyra's voice was all sugary sweet, but her eyes gleamed like a predator's.
Before I could react, she reached forward, fingers darting for my scarf, ready to strip me bare in front of everyone.
I caught her wrist midair.
The sharp sound of the impact, skin against skin, echoed in the room, silencing the murmurs around us.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
"I already told you," I said, voice calm and clear, "nothing happened last night. But if you keep insisting, people might start wondering why you're so obsessed with my neck."
"Why are you so defensive if you have nothing to hide? If you've done nothing shameful, then remove that scarf," Lyra said, her voice carrying that perfect tone of innocence—sweet, concerned, and venomous underneath.
She pulled her hand back abruptly, and I stumbled a little, catching myself just before I fell. Gasps rippled through the crowd that had already begun forming around us like vultures scenting blood.
Perfect. Just as she wanted.
They whispered among themselves, faces painted with intrigue and pity, the kind of expressions people wore when they wanted to see a scandal unfold. I could see it in their eyes—the same gleam of superiority they'd had since I was thirteen and failed to shift. To them, I was already dirt beneath their boots, a stain on a once-prestigious family name.
If Lyra's plan succeeded… I would have been ruined right here in front of everyone. Forced to marry the man who assaulted me. The thought made bile rise in my throat. But not this time.
This time, I knew what was coming. And I wasn't going to play her game.
Let them stare. Let them wait for the grand reveal.
They would get one.
Just not the one they expected.
"Lyra, calm down," Callen said, stepping in like the noble Alpha he fancied himself to be. His hand landed gently on her shoulder, pulling her back. "Serena has nothing to hide. She'll remove the scarf and show us."
The words left his mouth like a blade sliding across my skin. He didn't even try to hide his curiosity.
So that was it, then. He, too, was pushing me to prove myself, taking Lyra's side.
He wanted to see. To confirm what kind of woman I'd become.
I stared at him for a moment too long, my heart twisting in a way I hated. Once upon a time, I would've done anything for that voice to defend me. But now it only made me sick.
No one believed me.
To them, I was nothing but a scandal waiting to happen.
"We cannot have one day without Serena ruining our reputation," my mother started, her tone dripping with performative misery as she pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. "What sins have we committed to have her as a daughter?"
Before my father could add his own disappointed sigh, I reached up and pulled off the scarf myself.
The silk fell from my neck like a shed skin.
Gasps broke the air.
My neck—bare, pale, unmarked. Not even a hint of a bite or bruise.
I smiled. "Satisfied?"
Lyra's face twisted. "What? How is that possible?" she shrieked, the edges of her composure unravelling.
"Why wouldn't it be possible?" I asked coolly, tilting my head. "Unless… You know something you shouldn't."
Her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?! I was showing concern for my sister, and you try to accuse me? Is even caring for you wrong now?!" She started fake crying, burying her face in her hands like some tragic heroine.
A murmur spread through the crowd—some sympathetic, others sceptical—but the weight of their gazes was still on me.
"Serena, can't you stop causing a scene?" my father said sharply, rubbing his temples as if my existence itself gave him a headache. "Why are you so attention-seeking?"
My mother, of course, swooped in to cradle Lyra's shoulders. "Don't cry, darling," she said, her tone soft and sugar-coated. "This is supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life. Don't let one mannerless, jealous girl ruin it for you. You know how she is… Always ungrateful."
I stood there, scarf still in hand, surrounded by accusing eyes and cloying sympathy meant for the wrong person.
"I remember what I saw," Lyra said, her trembling voice dripping with false sincerity. "Could it be that… he used you but didn't mark you to avoid responsibility? Poor Serena…"
The fake tears spilt down her cheeks, each drop carefully crafted for sympathy. She was good. I'll give her that. If I hadn't lived through this exact manipulation once before, I might've believed her, too.
Of course. They wouldn't rest until they stripped me of every ounce of dignity I had left. Until I was ruined, disgraced, and handed off to Leonard like a defective bargain.
My hands trembled, not from fear this time, but from fury I had to swallow down to keep from ripping that smug expression off her face.
And then—
"Serena."
The deep voice cut through the noise like thunder.
I froze. My heart stopped mid-beat.
I knew that voice.
I would never forget that voice.
Slowly, I turned, and there he was.
Adrian Valois.