Exposing the Lie

Elara’s POV

Lady Morwena’s arrogant face drained of color. The threat of losing half the estate struck her like a physical blow.

“One hundred million it is,” she snapped, her voice tight with suppressed rage. She spun on her heel, her designer shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor, and slammed the heavy parlor door shut behind her.

The sudden silence in Dravos’s massive estate felt heavy, yet strangely liberating. I stood alone in the dim room, my gaze dropping to the crimson contract resting on the mahogany table. Deep within my chest, my wolf stirred. The sorrow that had choked me for days vanished, replaced by a crystal-clear sense of purpose.

I had not just signed a legal document. I had signed the death warrant for every pathetic illusion I had clung to over the last three years. No more quiet obedience. No more swallowing my pride to appease a mate who saw me as an inconvenience. From this moment forward, there would only be freedom, and a vengeance served cold beneath a highland moon.

Hours later, needing to escape those suffocating walls, I sought out the crisp evening air at the bustling Luneshade Bazaar. Vendors shouted over the din of the crowd, selling everything from spiced meats to silver talismans.

I found my fiercely loyal best friend, Kyra, waiting by a tapestry stall. She paced like a caged predator.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled, linking her arm through mine as we walked past the merchants. She was vibrating with fury. "The whole pack is talking. Dravos and Sivya are shamelessly flaunting their nauseating little soap opera in front of everyone. You were too good for him."

"It doesn’t matter anymore," I assured her calmly. "I’m free soon."

Kyra paused, turning to face me. "What about your parents' ashes?"

"Once the thirty-day dissolution becomes legally official," I said, meeting her gaze, "I am permanently taking them home. I’m heading back to the ancestral highlands."

Our fragile peace shattered later that evening.

We secured a quiet table at Apex Lunis, an exclusive high-end restaurant known for its dim lighting and silver-trimmed booths. We had barely opened our menus when raucous laughter echoed from the very next VIP booth.

A familiar, grating voice drifted over the ornate wooden divider, immediately curling bile up my throat. It was Krovan, one of Dravos’s elite circle.

"Dravos, when’s the grand Luna ceremony with Sivya? Don’t forget to invite us," Krovan sneered loudly.

Another male chimed in with a cruel chuckle. "Elara? She was nothing. Probably just some back-alley educated Omega. If Dravos hadn’t tossed her scraps, she’d be howling in the gutters."

"Sivya is a real catch," Krovan continued. "Royal-trained. A bloodline worthy of an Alpha."

Across our table, Kyra released a low, terrifying growl. Her muscles coiled tight, her eyes flashing amber as she prepared to leap over the divider and tear their throats out.

I placed a firm hand on her wrist. "No," I whispered coldly. "They’re talking about me. I’ll handle it."

I stood up, smoothed the creases from my dress, and walked slowly around the ornate divider. A terrifyingly cold smile touched my lips.

"Why wait for the grand Luna ceremony?" I asked, my voice cutting through their laughter like a blade. "Allow me to offer a toast to the happy couple right now."

Every male at the table froze. Dravos’s head snapped up. A flash of undeniable guilt flickered rapidly in his widened eyes before he masked it behind a wall of irritation. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward.

"Elara, lower your voice," he demanded softly. "Don't make a scene over a simple, harmless joke."

"No harm meant?" I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "So what, I should kneel, slap myself, and apologize for ever having the audacity to marry you?"

Panic flashed across his features. He reached out to grab my wrist to silence me. I jerked my arm free before his fingers could tighten.

"Don't touch me," I warned, stepping back. "We’ll talk right here, out in the open, in front of everyone you’re so desperate to impress. You and Sivya deserve each other. One is a lying, cowardly cheater, and the other is practically bursting with pride to be the mistress."

Sivya’s face blanched. Dravos’s jaw clenched.

"I sincerely hope the Moon Goddess grants you two a blessed, unbreakable mating bond," I continued, holding their gaze. "Preferably one that painfully burns."

Krovan pushed his chair back, stepping in with a nasty sneer. He puffed out his chest, projecting his voice to the entire dining room.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Krovan mocked. "You are nothing but a no-name orphan. A useless mutt."

Unable to hold her fiery temper back any longer, Kyra shot up from our table like wildfire. She cleared the distance in seconds, standing tall beside me.

"Watch your mouth!" Kyra roared. "Elara graduated at the top of her class from the Harrowforge Combat Academy!"

The table of elites stared for a split second before erupting into condescending snickers. They blatantly dismissed the name of the realm's most prestigious combat institution as a pathetic, desperate lie.

Sivya’s eyes narrowed calculatingly. She searched my steady posture for a crack. Finding none, her gaze shifted toward the restaurant entrance. An older, distinguished man had just walked in. Sivya’s face instantly lit up with an opportunistic gleam.

"Professor Barden!" Sivya called out loudly, beaming like an innocent pup.

She waved him over. The renowned Harrowforge instructor paused, scanning the room before approaching with a polite nod.

"Sivya. It’s been a while," he said.

Sivya gestured toward me, her smile dripping with poison. "You’re still teaching at Harrowforge, right? We have someone here making outrageous claims. Perhaps you can publicly clear up the hilarious truth about her so-called elite combat record."

All eyes in the restaurant immediately turned to me, hungrily anticipating a humiliating lie exposed. The silence in the dining room grew thick.

Instead of cowering, I stepped forward calmly, my posture perfectly aligned.

"Professor Barden," I said. "It’s good to see you again."

The old soldier blinked in confusion for a second. His brow furrowed as he studied my face. Then, his eyes widened, and his face broke into a massive grin. He stepped forward enthusiastically, heavily clapping a calloused hand on my shoulder.

"Well, this is a hell of a surprise!" Barden beamed. "It's been years, Elara. I heard the tragic news about Garrick and Olyra. I’m so sorry."

"Thank you, Professor," I murmured.

Barden then sharply turned his attention to the stunned table of elites. His smile faded into a look of stern authority.

"To answer your question, Sivya, of course I know her," Barden announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. "She was my best student. Top of her year."

Krovan’s jaw dropped. Dravos stiffened in his seat.

"Hell," Barden continued, puffing out his chest with pride. "When she joined, she shattered the academy's historical entrance records."

The entire table went suffocatingly silent. Shocked murmurs began to spread through the dining room like wildfire.

Sivya sat frozen, all her earlier smugness draining from her face as her fingers trembled around her wine glass.