Two weeks had passed since the Duel of Ownership, and the world had settled into a strange, luxurious rhythm.
Emily sat cross-legged on the massive velvet sofa in the penthouse living room, a mug of ginger tea balancing on her knee. The morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance three days ago, a queasy reminder that while she was living in a fairytale, her body was very much grounded in biological reality.
On her lap lay the Silverclaw Codex, the heavy leather-bound book Beatrice had left behind. It smelled of old parchment and secrets. Emily had been devouring it, her archivist instincts flaring to life. It wasn't just a history of the pack; it was a ledger of debts, alliances, and blood feuds going back three centuries.
"You are furrowing your brow," a deep voice rumbled.
Emily
