Chapter: 10

In truth, I was an anonymous author—I'd made a bit of money from my writing, though no one knew.

Let them keep thinking I was worthless. That was fine by me.

After washing up, I opened Daniel's door. He was already dressed in the tiny black suit we'd picked out together.

“Good morning, Mom,” he said calmly. “Look at you,” I whispered, smoothing his collar. “All grown up.”

“Let's go,” he said quietly, squaring his small shoulders and trying to look brave.

But when the old stone church came into view, his courage faltered. His knuckles went white as he gripped the car door handle.

“Hey,” I said softly, resting my hand on his tense shoulder. “Talk to me.”

He turned to me, eyes shining with unshed tears, and my heart cracked. “We... we didn’t get to say goodbye. Do you think Grandpa knew we loved him?”

The question pierced me like a silver dagger to the ribs.

My father’s absence had long since become routine for me—but for Daniel, he had lost his favorite storyteller, his secret cookie supplier.

I pressed my hand against his rapidly beating heart. “Grandpa's right here, sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “And right here.” I tapped his temple gently. “As long as we remember him, he never really leaves.”

Daniel exhaled shakily, the tightness in his small frame easing just a little. “Okay.”

“Ready?”

He nodded—and that was all the strength I needed.

We stepped out of the car together.

The church doors opened into a sea of mourners—wolves in elegant black mourning attire, allies from neighboring territories, and a scattering of human business associates who had known my father.

The air was thick with murmured condolences and the cloying scent Of lilies.

My family sat in the front row like royalty. My mother’s head rested on Ethan’s shoulder, and Celeste—sat beside Kieran.

“Daniel, darling!” My mother’s arms opened wide as we approached— but not for me. Never for me.

They were for the grandson who carried the Blackthorn name. The important grandson.

I watched numbly as Daniel disappeared into her embrace, his small body swallowed by her black lace dress. That left only one empty seat —between Celeste and the edge of the pew.

Celeste’s ice-blue eyes flicked toward me. Even after ten years, the hatred there hadn't faded. As I sat down, she subtly shifted away, the silk of her gown whispering against the bench—a snake's warning hiss.

I tried not to think about the family that never wanted me. My gaze drifted through the chapel—only to land on another family that never wanted me either.

The Blackthorns.