Chapter 3
1385 Words
Samantha's POV
The screen was still on.
And there it was.
A photo of Andrew and me.
We were standing side by side at a formal banquet. He was slightly leaning toward me, his arm resting naturally around my shoulder. I was smiling at the camera.
Perfectly innocent.
But to her—
It wasn't.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
"Why do you have pictures with him?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"It's not what you think," I said quickly.
She swiped.
Another photo.
Then another.
A charity gala. A pack ceremony. His graduation. Different days. Different outfits. The same two people standing close.
Her face changed.
Shock.
Then disbelief.
Then something darker.
"You've been collecting photos with him," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're obsessed."
"I am not—"
Before I could finish, the door opened.
Two girls walked in, laughing lightly.
"Amanda, everything's ready for tonight," one of them said cheerfully. "We've finished setting up the private hall. The candles, the flowers — just like you wanted. Andrew is going to be so surprised."
They stopped mid-sentence.
They had just noticed me standing there — disheveled, tense — and Amanda gripping my phone like a weapon.
"What's going on?" the other girl asked.
Amanda let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"You came at the perfect time," she said. "This is Serena. She went to Andrew's office to secretly meet him."
"What?" one of the girls said.
Amanda shoved my phone toward them.
"Look at this."
They leaned in.
Scrolling.
Their expressions shifted quickly.
"Oh my God."
"There are so many."
"She's been taking pictures with him for a while."
"I didn't take them like that," I tried to explain. "You're misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?" Amanda snapped. "You have dozens of photos with him in your phone. You show up at his office. And you think I'm going to believe this is innocent?"
"It is innocent."
"Please," one friend scoffed. "Women like you always say that."
Amanda suddenly stormed toward Andrew's desk, grabbed a stack of documents, and hurled them at me.
Papers scattered across my chest and fell to the floor.
"You think you can just walk into his office like you belong there?" she shouted.
"I don't want anything from you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Oh, you absolutely do," one of the girls said coldly. "Look at her. The classy coat, the soft makeup. Trying to look mature and irresistible."
"If you're going to steal someone else's Alpha," the other added mockingly, "at least try harder. This look is desperate, not seductive."
"I am not trying to steal anyone," I said firmly. "I'm not Serena. I'm—"
"Stop saying that name like it changes anything!" Amanda yelled, cutting me off.
"You think denying it makes you innocent?" one friend said.
"She probably planned this," the other added. "Waiting for the right moment to replace you."
"There is only one Luna in this pack," Amanda said, stepping closer, her voice low and shaking with rage. "And that's me."
I was breathing too fast.
Every inhale scraped my throat raw. Every exhale shook.
"Enough," I managed, though my voice trembled. "You are inventing a story and forcing me into it."
Amanda was about to retort when her phone rang again.
The sound sliced through the shouting.
She glanced at the screen and answered immediately, still glaring at me.
"What?"
A pause.
Her expression shifted.
"What do you mean it's confirmed?" she demanded, voice tightening.
Silence stretched. I could hear the faint murmur of someone speaking on the other end.
Her face drained of color.
"Sent where?" she asked slowly.
Another pause.
"Manhattan," she repeated.
The word landed like a gunshot.
She ended the call.
When she turned toward me, her eyes looked almost murderous.
"I noticed this morning," she said, her voice low and shaking, "that Andrew ordered a diamond ring. For someone. Behind my back."
She took a step closer.
"Now it's confirmed. The ring was shipped to Manhattan."
Her finger pointed at me.
"That's where you live."
My heart pounded against my ribs.
"You still want to deny it?" she demanded. "What do you have to say now?"
I swallowed hard.
"Today is my birthday," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "If he sent something to Manhattan, it could simply be—"
I never finished.
Her hand struck my face with brutal force.
The sound cracked through the room.
My vision went white.
The floor rushed up to meet me.
When awareness returned, I was lying on the cold ground, my cheek burning, ears ringing. I tasted blood.
"You liar!" Amanda screamed above me. "He bought you a ring! And that necklace— don't think I didn't notice it before!"
I tried to push myself up, but my body felt heavy.
"You dare say today is your birthday?" she went on hysterically. "You think that excuses it?"
One of her friends chimed in viciously, "Look at her. They've obviously been together for a long time."
"Yeah," the other agreed. "This isn't new. This is history."
I tried to speak. "You are wrong. I am not—"
They didn't hear me.
Or maybe they did — and simply didn't care.
The truth had no place here.Only their accusations did.
"Secret dates?" one friend pressed.
"Months?" the other added.
Before I could react, someone ripped my handbag from my shoulder.
The strap burned against my skin as it tore free.
The bag hit the floor.
Then—
They dumped it upside down.
Everything spilled out in a chaotic scatter.
My wallet.
My keys.
A folded envelope slid across the marble floor and stopped near Amanda's shoes.
She stared at it.
Then bent down slowly and picked it up.
The paper was creased, worn at the edges.
She unfolded it.
Silence fell.
Her lips moved as she read.
Then she read it aloud.
"No matter how far you go… you will always be my pride."
Her voice trembled.
She flipped it over.
"No name," she whispered. "Just an S."
Her head lifted.
"Serena."
My vision was still blurry from the slap.
"I… didn't…" My throat scraped when I tried to speak. "It's not…"
She didn't listen.
Something metallic rolled free from beneath the spilled contents.
A silver cufflink.
It spun once, then stopped.
Amanda froze.
She recognized it instantly.
She had seen him wear it.
Her fingers closed around it slowly.
"This is his."
Not a question.
My scalp still burned where she had pulled my hair earlier.
"He left it," I managed weakly. "It was… an accident…"
"In your bed?" one of the girls snapped.
A sharp laugh cut through the room.
I flinched at the sound.
"I didn't steal it," I whispered.
My voice barely carried.
Then—
A small black tube rolled from the bag.
It hit the floor softly.
Amanda's eyes locked onto it.
She picked it up.
Her expression changed.
"I have this," she said faintly.
Her thumb traced the engraving.
"This was limited edition. Andrew bought it for me."
Silence thickened.
"He…" My lips trembled. "He sends… one every year…"
The moment the words left me, I regretted them.
Amanda's face went completely pale.
"Every year?" she echoed.
Her friends exchanged dark looks.
"How long?" one whispered.
"You kept his letter," Amanda said, her voice starting to shake uncontrollably. "You have his cufflink. And matching gifts?"
"I'm not…" My breath hitched. "You're wrong… I'm not Serena…"
"Then what are you?!" she screamed.
Her heel slammed onto my hand. I cried out in agony, but she only twisted it, bearing down harder with every second.
Tears blurred my vision.
"Why do you write to him like that?"
"It's not…"
"Why does he leave things with you?"
"I— I can't breathe…"
"Why does he give you gifts every year?!"
The room tilted.
The lights felt too bright.
Their voices overlapped, sharp and suffocating.
"Say it!" Amanda shouted. "Say what you are to him!"
My mouth opened.
No sound came out.
My chest felt tight.
My lungs wouldn't fill properly.
The edges of my vision darkened.
The floor felt very far away.
And then—
A ringtone cut through everything.
Sharp.
Violent.
Everyone froze.
On the wet marble floor, between scattered paper and silver metal—
My phone screen lit up.
Andrew calling.
- Writer
