Jewel's POV
The moment the door closed after Stephen, its metallic click echoing through the silence like a verdict, I let out a huff of breath. My lungs felt scorched from being filled to the brim with air, my hands flying to my chest in reflexive trying to slow the wild pulse of my heart. My breaths were ragged waves, the expanding and contracting of my chest a physical manifestation of the turmoil within.
He purchased it.
The idea hadn't even fully come together before a bitter half-laugh, half-relief burst from my lips. I still couldn't credit it. Stephen, the Alpha King, cold-eyed and ruthless in his judgments, had really been taken in by my deceptions. I had danced on the edge of a knife, woven a web of untruths in a few moments, and for the moment. I had lived.
But just barely.
