The Lycan Trials (A Reverse Harem Academy Romance)

CELIA I knew something was going on. I just couldn’t prove it. But now, I can. I click the camera. The shutter sound slices through the near-silence of the parking lot. Beside me, Becca hisses, pulling my cloth, “Celia, get down! He’s looking this way.” I crouch lower behind the car door, my knees scraping the concrete. The grocery store parking lot smells like rain and exhaust. There he is — Kevin. My husband of three years. Smiling. Pushing a cart full of food I didn’t write on any list. And beside him? My stepsister. Lauren. Perfect hair. Perfect teeth. Perfectly oblivious that she’s about to ruin her reputation. “God,” Becca mutters. “He told you he was in Chicago.” “Business trip,” I whisper, zooming in. “He said his flight was delayed. Guess he meant delayed to the grocery store.” Kevin takes a bag from Lauren’s hand, brushes his thumb over her wrist before putting it in the trunk. It’s so casual it makes my stomach twist. Then, he leans in and pecks her on the lips. My eyes well with tears. Becca glances at me. “You sure you wanna keep watching this?” s “I need more proof,” I say, sniffing cos my heart feels so f*****g tight. “If I confront him without these, he’ll talk me in circles like last time and say I'm just hallucinating everything.” We watch as he leans close to say something. She laughs — that soft, private laugh I used to hear at midnight over burnt pancakes and Netflix. The camera shakes in my hand. I lower it before I drop it. “That’s enough,” Becca says gently. I nod, even though I want to scream. “Yeah. Enough.” That night, I waited on the balcony of our penthouse, pictures of them scattered on the table, next to the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago when I first suspected him. It’s 10:14 p.m. He should’ve been back hours ago. And still—nothing. Just the ache. The ache of knowing he’s with her. With Lauren. My stepsister. My shadow growing up. I’m staring at the city lights, phone in hand, lost, when I hear the front door open. Footsteps. Then his voice. “Celia, you in here?” I freeze, heart thudding. He's back. I turn, leaning against the railing with my front to the balcony’s door, arms crossed. My mouth parts, ready to call out to him to come here— Then I hear her. “I don’t think she is. Do you think she ran away after seeing us?” “I'm not sure it was her that you saw.” “It was her.” “Well, we'll see.” My heart stops. He brought her here. He f*****g brought her… home. Something hits the floor with a dull thud. A dropped bag, maybe. “I'm sure she'd ran duh.” She groans. “No,” Kevin says, chuckling under his breath. “Celia’s not one to back off like that.” I swallow the lump in my throat. Their voices drift closer and I can hear the soft click of her heels on the marble just before seeing them in the see through glass door of the balcony. “See,” he says, tone amused as he comes closer. “The balcony door’s open.” He smiles when our eyes meet. “There she is.” He turns the handle, eyes still on me. I don't move. I watch as he steps out, still in that shirt I saw him in earlier, Lauren's tall lean form almost hidden behind his tall broad frame. “Ce—” “ —Welcome back. Did you enjoy your Chicago trip?” I cut in, my voice is flat. I’m careful with it, because I learned long ago that calm sounds scarier than hysteria. Kevin blinks. For a second I think he might lie and say I'm hallucinating. Instead he straightens as his eyes dart to the pictures scattered on the table, annoyed. “Celia, this is ridiculous.” “Ridiculous?” I laugh, low and mean. “You told me you were in Chicago, Kevin. You told me your flight was delayed. You told me you were working. I called you six times today. My calls went to voicemail. And now you’re home with her. The other day I saw you with her, you said I was hallucinating that it was not her. Same with that day I smelled that perf in your car. So, who's the crazy one huh? Me or you or… her?” Lauren’s jaw tightens, her gaze on the pictures. When her eyes meet mine, there's a sneer on her lips. “You think you can blackmail me with pictures?” she asks, gritting her teeth as she leans over and takes one of them, raising it up to me. “See, Kevin was my boyfriend before you stole him—” My heart drops. “ —But you said you were freaking bestfriends and you grew apart after we married.” I snap. She chuckles, squeezing the photo and throwing it. She takes a step forward. “And now, he's my fiancé. You think he ever really wanted you? You were the safe choice. The… daughter Daddy would actually pay for.” “Pay for?” I whisper. “You make it sound like a business deal.” Kevin finally looks up, a dry laugh leaving his mouth. “It was.” I freeze. He leans back against the door, arms folded. “You think I married you because of love? Come on, Celia. You were the heiress. The first daughter. Your father was desperate to see you married before thirty. I just happened to be the perfect candidate. He got to keep face. I got his trust and connections. And now…” He shrugs. “Now, I don’t need you anymore. I'm ready to go back with Lauren.” It’s like the world stops. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, my throat tightens anyway, heat pricking behind my eyes. My voice comes out low and trembling with everything I’ve swallowed for years. I can't believe three damn years of my life was wasted like that. I sniff. “Thank you so much for clarifying that.” I grab the papers off the table and shove them toward him. “Now, sign the divorce papers.” Kevin stares, a smirk twitching on his lips. “And you, Lauren…” I lift my phone, unlocking it with my face. “I’m sending everything to Papa. Every single photo. Every message. Every proof. Let’s see how your precious mother survives this one.” Lauren’s face drains of color. “Do you know what Dad would do if he saw this? You think he’d choose you?” She stammers My laugh comes out hollow. “Dad? Papa will choose the daughter he respects, his blood, not the little girl his w***e mistress dragged in.” Her expression fractures—shame first, then fury. She moves before I can react, snatching for my wrist. The phone slips. “Lauren, let go—” It clatters onto the balcony tile, face down, the screen flashing once before going dark. We both dive for it. Our fingers collide, nails scraping. For a second we’re two feral animals over a piece of glass and plastic. “Give it back!” she hisses. “Over my dead body!” I spit, jerking it from her reach, but it slips again and slides beneath the chair leg. The sound of it breaking snaps something inside both of us. She hisses, then she shoves me. I slam into the railing, breath knocked from my lungs. My back aches, but I hold on, clutching the metal bar behind me. “What the hell, Lauren?!” Her chest heaves. Her hair’s in her face now, eyes wild. “I won't let you ruin everything. Everything I’ve worked for—what Mom worked for—because you can’t stand not being the favorite!” I grit my teeth, forcing my voice steady. “My phone might be gone, but I still have everything on my iCloud, you idiot.” I tighten my grip on the rail, glaring right into her face. “You can’t erase proof. You can’t erase what you are.” For a heartbeat, I think that’ll stop her. That she’ll back down and grovel. But then, something dark flashes in her eyes. It’s small. Quick. Wrong. Her gaze flickers past me, over my shoulder at the drop behind. Then back to me. A chill crawls through my stomach. “Lauren…” My voice falters, eyes also darting behind. This is the 34th floor. “...Don’t even think about—” She leans in close, her voice dropping to a whisper that slides right into my ear. “Well,” she breathes, “Only a living person can send those pictures to Dad.” My blood turns cold. “Lauren, stop—” She shoves me. Hard. The railing bites into my ribs, then slips out from under my hands. The world tilts. My scream catches in my throat as gravity yanks me backward into open air. I can smell the rain, the city, the metal. I can feel the wind whooshing in my ears. The last thing I see is her amber eyes. The last thing I hear is Kevin's voice breaking through the night, raw and terrified, “Celia!” And the last thing I know before the darkness swallows me is that I finally caught him—just too late to survive it. God. I should have disappeared silently instead of confronting them.