Maeve’s POV
By 12:15 PM, the crystal chandeliers in the main foyer hummed with manic energy. The rush of high society had packed the space wall-to-wall. The clean scent of new oak panels was completely buried under expensive lilies, champagne, and the heavy musk of dominant packs.
They hadn’t come for the music. They’d come to watch the aftermath of a very public execution.
Every whispered conversation over crystal flutes carried the same story: they’d spent their morning glued to the midnight media mässacre I’d unleashed on the Frost Rainbow pack. They’d seen the raw footage of Elizabeth smashing her way into my studio. They’d read the devastating medical logs that exposed Kael’s years of neglect. Now they circled like vultures, waiting to see if the future Vance Luna would crack under
