Chapter 3
697 Palabras
I was drinking my daily dose of honeygrass tonic when the Goldenflame matriarch summoned me.
"The Grand Matron wants to see you," the servant said coldly. "She said something about the lineage records."
I put down the bowl. "Alright."
As I stepped out, I glanced back at the tonic. The taste had become too familiar—bitter, sweet, and laced with something darker.
Old Luna Lily sat at the far northern end of the Goldenflame Pack.
Inside the study, the Matriarch sat in a tall-backed chair, stern as ever.
“There,” she said, pointing to a shelf. “Seventh scrollbook. Your branch.”
I obeyed, pulling the thick volume down and flipping through it.
Tucked in the back was a sheet of parchment and a small silver key.
“What’s this?” I asked cautiously.
She didn’t answer—just gestured toward the adjacent room.
The bedroom was clean, almost too pristine. A portrait on the wall stopped me cold.
It was Omega Shirley, in her youth. Wearing white. Smiling sweetly.
On the back, in old Nightfog script: “My only love.”
My fingers trembled.
Alpha Adrian had never hung a single portrait of me. Not even our ceremonial mark.
I scanned the room and found a lockbox hidden beneath a chest.
I typed in a number—0715. The date of my first miscarriage.
Click.
Inside was a thick photo album.
Page one: Omega Shirley at thirteen, feeding a wolf pup. Caption: “Her first time feeding our cub.”
Page two: Omega Shirley dancing by Nightfog Lake. Caption: “My forever love.”
Page after page, Omega Shirley’s entire youth was documented—her, with Alpha Adrian. Her, in white. Her, glowing.
I was never meant to be anything but her stand-in.
She couldn’t carry children. I could.
I was just a temporary vessel.
I slammed the album shut. My comm-stone buzzed.
It was Omega Shirley.
“Hi, Luna Ivy,” she cooed. “Thanks for testing the medication for me.”
I said nothing.
“My twins are doing so well. Dr. Ryan says we’ll be able to harvest the cord blood in just three months.”
“You’re dreaming,” I snapped.
She chuckled. “Maybe. But you’re living in my dream.”
“What do you want, Omega Shirley?”
“You alive. The baby alive. So I can live too.” Her voice dropped cold. “Don’t tell me it took you this long to figure that out?”
I cut the call.
Back in the study, the Matriarch sipped tea calmly.
“Finished browsing?” she asked.
“You knew,” I said. “From the beginning, I was just a replacement.”
She smiled thinly. “At least your womb still works. That’s more than we can say for her.”
“I’m a living person, not a tool.”
She stood, slapped me hard across the face.
“You’re Nightfog’s Luna. Stop playing the victim.”
My ears rang.
She tossed a scroll at my feet. “Take a look. Omega Shirley’s latest prenatal exam. She’s carrying twins. And you? You can’t even keep one.”
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood.
“You’re only useful if you deliver that thing safely.”
I lowered my head, voice hoarse. “You’ll regret this.”
“Regret?” She scoffed. “You think Alpha Adrian will pick you?”
I didn’t answer. I just walked out.
But the tears had already started to fall.
Back in my room, I found a small cloth bundle on the bed.
Inside: a photo and a note.
The photo was our wedding portrait.
Alpha Adrian stood stiffly, not even holding my hand. He wore his own sigil ring.
As if keeping a distance.
The note was from Omega Shirley.
“Luna Ivy, you really are made to be a perfect stand-in. Even in pictures.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the photo.
My fingers traced the ceremonial mark.
I was never his fated mate.
I was a borrowed womb. A polished shell. A “wife” they could parade around while slaughtering me inside.
- Autor
