Obsidian Pack's Heiress

Valerie's POV:

Silas offers a slight, polite nod. "He's fine."

With those words, he gestures to the attendants behind him. They step forward, presenting the Zenith Pack with a staggering display of wealth. The gifts are nothing short of breathtaking. First, they unveil a world-famous painting, a masterpiece coveted by art collectors globally. Next comes a thick folder containing the deed to a prime piece of land in Coalcrest. That specific territory is valued in the hundreds of millions alone. A whole host of other luxurious items follow, glittering brightly under the ballroom chandeliers.

Beatrice’s eyes sparkle with unrestrained greed. A wide, delighted smile stretches across her face. She showers Silas with profound thanks, her demeanor practically fawning over the head butler. The surrounding elite guests start murmuring. Awe ripples through the crowd as they stare at the immense wealth.

Many older members of the elite remember the history. Alpha Desmond of the Obsidian Pack and Alpha Alaric of the Zenith Pack shared a close friendship for over a century. But over a decade ago, Desmond suddenly retired. He led the Obsidian Pack away from the mainstream continent and settled in the remote, frozen wasteland of Winteredge. After more than ten years of isolation, the Obsidian Pack faded from the minds of many werewolf families. Yet tonight, Silas’s extravagant gifts demand everyone’s attention.

Watching this, a pang of regret hits my chest. My grandfather wasted all this incredible wealth. He handed these luxurious gifts over to the blind fools of the Zenith Pack.

Silas exchanges brief, professional pleasantries with Kaelen. Then, he turns on his heel and leaves the venue quickly. During the entire exchange, he deliberately does not spare me a single, passing glance. His cold attitude rings loud and clear to the guests and the Vance family.

I exhale deeply, a rush of satisfaction settling in my chest. Silas executed his exit to perfection. His cold attitude firmly cements my position here. To them, I am just a lowly, disposable Omega. A nobody from Winteredge unvalued by the mighty Obsidian Pack.

Beatrice is an opportunist. If she realized the unfathomable wealth I truly possess as the acting Alpha of the Obsidian Pack, she would never let me go. She would trap me in this pack forever. And Kaelen? If he knew the truth, his bruised pride might vanish. He might suddenly reconsider breaking our three-month engagement agreement.

Nearby, the high-society women gather. Their voices rise in eager gossip about the generous Obsidian Alpha.

"That Alpha of the Obsidian Pack sure is generous," one woman remarks, swirling her champagne. "I heard his granddaughter is his first heir. I wonder what kind of elegant young lady she must be."

Chloe stands among them. She glances at the exit where Silas disappeared, then turns her gaze toward me. A mocking sneer curls her lips. Trying to regain the face she lost during our piano duel, she speaks up loudly to the crowd.

"I have heard the heiress of the Obsidian Pack isn't just graceful, but also quite formidable. Wouldn't you agree?" Chloe feigns innocence, batting her eyelashes at me. "Ms. Ashford, since you're also from the Obsidian Pack, have you ever met the heiress?"

I shake my head. The surrounding women snicker, covering their mouths to hide their vicious laughs. The true heir of the Obsidian Pack is a legend to outsiders. Very few know her name. Even fewer have seen her face.

Another woman chimes in, "Oh, by the way, Chloe, didn't you meet Alpha Desmond's granddaughter at the Valerine Fashion Show?"

Chloe glances at me again, puffing out her chest. She nods firmly. "Yes, I did. She is beautiful and noble. We exchanged Twitter handles and had a lovely chat. She even promised to visit me when she comes to Oakhaven! I will introduce you all to her when she arrives."

"Wow, Chloe, you are amazing!"

I listen to her spin this massive lie. Chloe is desperate for attention. We have never met in our entire lives. We certainly never exchanged Twitter handles.

Unable to hold back my amusement, I step closer. I raise a challenging eyebrow, making sure my voice carries. "Are you sure you really met the heiress of the Obsidian Pack?"

Chloe flusters for a split second. Panic flashes in her eyes, but she stubbornly pushes it down. She nods. "Of course I did."

The sycophantic women around her jump to her defense. They glare at me.

"What is your problem?" one woman snaps, mocking me openly. "I guess you must be jealous of Chloe. So what if you happen to share the wealthy heiress's surname? You are just a delusional bumpkin compared to her."

I simply smirk. I turn around and walk away from their circle. Finding her desperate self-deception to be too ridiculous, I decide not to bother exposing her lie. Watching her keep up this pathetic act for her little friends is far more entertaining to me.

I retreat to a quiet corner, standing alone near a towering floral arrangement. Inside my mind, my wolf Lyra stretches.

*Kaelen has not taken his eyes off you since you finished playing the piano,* Lyra informs me internally. Her voice carries a teasing whisper. *He is angry with you for ignoring him all night.*

I raise my glass of sweet wine, taking a slow sip. I cast a subtle, sideways glance across the ballroom. Sure enough, Kaelen stands near the bar. His gaze is locked onto me. His expression is as cold as solid ice.

A sudden surge of ridicule hits me. His intense pettiness is laughable. He clearly expected me to humiliate myself on the piano. He wanted to watch me fail in front of his precious Chloe. He never anticipated I would easily outperform her. Now, his self-centered male ego is bruised. I have no interest in entertaining his tantrums.

I swirl the remaining wine in my glass. I resolve to treat these excruciating three months as a test of my inner peace. Time will pass. The engagement will end. Refusing to deal with further drama tonight, I set my glass down on a passing waiter's tray.

I decide to slip out of the party early.

I turn my back to the crowded dance floor and walk steadily toward the grand exit. The cool night air beckons beyond the heavy doors. I just need to slip out and grab a cab back to the estate.

My hand reaches for the brass handle.

Suddenly, a harsh, commanding voice cuts through the air right behind me.

"Who gave you permission to leave without saying anything?"