Adah’s POV
I’m not stupid. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’d seen enough cheesy movies to know when someone’s trying to pull a fast one. Angela was up to something—her voice was just too sweet, her eyes darted around like a snake looking for her next bite. I could almost taste the poison in her smile.
She came up to me at the wedding after-party, the music still thumping through the mansion, my mother laughing with her new Alpha husband, guests twirling around the ballroom. I was standing by the dessert table, pretending to care about anything except surviving this circus.
“Adah, darling, you must be tired,” Angela cooed, pressing a glass of neon-pink punch into my hand. “Have some, you look so pale. You’re not used to these big celebrations, are you?”
I stared at the drink. If this
