Don't Expose Me

I step back into the bustling grand ballroom, the booming music washing over me again. Kaelen is mingling enthusiastically, deep in conversation with some senior Betas from the Zenith Pack, ignoring his duties as my escort. I want nothing to do with him right now. Instead, I retreat to a quiet corner, grabbing a glass of chilled wine from a passing waiter. I stand off to the side, taking a slow sip, deeply regretting my decision to attend this ostentatious event.

Before I can enjoy a moment of peace, Beatrice spots me. She marches over, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her eyes are sharp and predatory, locking onto me like prey.

"Valerie," she commands severely, eyeing the crystal glass in my hand. "Do not wander off. Stay put right here. I order you not to embarrass the Zenith Pack with your presence tonight. We have important guests watching."

I stare at her, a sharp retort burning on my tongue. Before I can snap back, Chloe struts over. She is flanked by a clique of haughty friends, oozing fake grace and elegance as if our bathroom confrontation never happened.

She cozies up right next to Beatrice, flashing a bright, manufactured smile. "Mrs. Beatrice! And this must be Kaelen's fiancée. Ms. Ashford, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you."

I almost roll my eyes at the display. In terms of pretending to be an innocent, prim lady, Chloe is a master of her craft.

Beatrice shoots me a glare of pure disgust before turning a warm smile on Chloe. "Chloe, do not bother with her. She is just an unrefined Omega from Winteredge, clueless about high-society manners."

"Oh, it is fine, Mrs. Beatrice," Chloe says, feigning innocence. "Actually, I heard that Ms. Ashford is quite talented. There is a grand piano on the stage right over there. How about a little friendly competition?"

Her eyes gleam with calculated malice. The ballroom has been buzzing with rumors all night about me being a useless bumpkin from the frozen north. Chloe is setting a trap, aiming for public humiliation to prove she is the better match for Kaelen.

Before I can even decline the absurd challenge, Chloe slyly takes the stage. The murmuring crowd falls silent as all eyes turn to her. She offers a smug, poised smile to the room, sits down at the bench, and begins to play.

Her fingers press the keys, producing a smooth, flawless, and technically impressive classical piece. I sip my wine and watch. She has clearly practiced this for years to perfect her Luna image. When the final note rings out, the crowd erupts into polite applause.

Chloe stands up, soaking in the praise from the wealthy elites. She struts back over to our corner with a triumphant grin. "Well, Ms. Ashford, it seems I did my best. It is your turn now."

Her pack of friends instantly jumps in, their voices deliberately raised to ensure the room hears their taunts.

"That was amazing, Chloe!" one of the women sneers. "But look at Ms. Ashford. Are you just going to stand there? Do not tell me you cannot even play the piano."

"Can you imagine the inevitable rumors if Mr. Vance's fiancée cannot even manage to play a simple tune?" another mocks loudly, looking around to gather an audience.

They deliberately try to turn the crowd against me. I glance at Beatrice. Her face darkens with intense disgust, silently blaming me for causing a public spectacle rather than addressing Chloe's blatant rudeness.

I give the mean girls a nonchalant, unbothered smile.

"Playing the piano at a banquet feels a bit like performing for cheap tips," I state casually, my voice carrying just enough to make Chloe's smile falter. "But since you all insist on hearing it, I will give it a try."

I walk confidently to the stage, my posture straight. I reach the grand piano, setting my wine glass down on the polished edge. I turn to face the whispering crowd and boldly announce, "Since Ms. Mercer wants a competition, I will play the exact same piece she just performed."

Murmurs ripple through the elite crowd. Chloe crosses her arms near Beatrice, looking smug. She thinks she can embarrass me, but she is wrong.

I sit down and hover my hands over the ivory keys. I mastered the piano by the age of ten. More importantly, after I awakened as an Alpha, my sharply enhanced senses and supreme physical control only elevated my skill to impossible heights. My fingers have the dexterity and power of a predator. No one in the Werewolf Continent has ever seen me fail.

I press the keys. The music flows beautifully, rich and entrancing. I push the tempo, adding a depth of emotion and technical brilliance Chloe could never achieve. My Alpha reflexes allow for pristine, lightning-fast trills and heavy chords. The elite crowd is captivated. People near the dance floor stop and sway. I completely eclipse Chloe's earlier attempt, turning her performance into a mere warmup act.

When I strike the final, echoing note, the room goes dead silent for a split second before overwhelming, thunderous applause shakes the hall.

I stand, offering the guests a brief nod. I step away from the bench and return to a pale, stunned Chloe. Her humiliation is palpable.

She forces a tight, trembling smile. "Ms. Ashford, your talent truly outshines mine. I am humbled."

"Ms. Mercer," I respond flatly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a real reaction. "You played well too."

I reach for my wine glass, ready to fade back into the shadows, when the heavy grand doors of the ballroom suddenly swing open.

A middle-aged man in a sharp black suit steps inside.

I freeze in sheer terror. My heart pounds against my ribs. It is Silas Thorne, the head butler of the Obsidian Pack Manor. What is he doing here?

Panic spikes through my veins. I have worked tirelessly to maintain my weak Omega persona in Oakhaven. Is it all about to crumble in front of the entire Zenith Pack? If Silas acknowledges me, my cover is blown.

He walks straight toward us. I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable exposure.

However, utilizing immense restraint, Silas walks right past me. He does not offer me a single second glance. He stops directly in front of Kaelen and Beatrice, professionally addressing only them.

"Mr. Kaelen, Mrs. Vance, good evening," he says, his voice cutting through the lingering chatter. "I am Silas Thorne, head butler for the Obsidian Pack. I sincerely apologize, but my Alpha, Mr. Desmond, is unable to attend due to illness. I am here to represent him tonight."

Beatrice's demeanor shifts instantly. The disgust vanishes, replaced by a welcoming smile. She quickly steps forward, eager to impress him, completely oblivious to my internal panic.

"Mr. Thorne, please, welcome!" Beatrice gushes, her eyes wide with sudden respect. "We are honored to have you. How is Mr. Desmond's health?"