The Staircase Trap

"Don't be shameless, Maeve."

Celia’s voice echoed against the concrete walls of the stairwell, cold and sharp. The fragile, timid girl Roman had introduced in the office was gone. The mask had slipped, revealing a calculating, hostile stranger glaring at me from the steps above.

I stopped my descent and wiped the remaining moisture from my cheeks. I turned to face her, refusing to let her see how much my husband's betrayal hurt. "What do you want, Celia?"

"His mate is back now," she snapped, descending another step. Her posture was rigid, fueled by an ugly jealousy. "Shouldn't you leave? The only reason he hasn't offered to divorce you yet is because he pities you. You should take the initiative to end things right now."

She sneered, looking me up and down with blatant disgust. "I am his destined mate. Not you. Stop hoarding what is not yours."

My initial shock and sadness instantly morphed into a hot spark of irritation. The sheer audacity of this gamma telling me to leave my own husband was infuriating. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, pulling on my alpha bloodline. I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to cower.

"I am still his lawful wife," I stated, my voice ringing firmly in the empty space. "You may be his mate, but not everyone gets married to their mates. As things stand, you can remain his mistress. I didn't hoard, nor did I steal anything."

Celia's face twisted into an ugly, bitter mask of rage. She hated hearing the truth.

"I will remain Luna," I continued, pressing my advantage. "I will keep doing what is right for this pack. You are an ordinary gamma. You do not possess the bloodline or the strength to lead our people. I do. You are a mistress, that is all."

I turned my back on her to leave. I had wasted enough breath on someone who clearly had no respect for the pack's hierarchy or my marriage.

Footsteps slapped against the concrete. She moved fast, rushing down the steps to cut in front of me. She stood dead center on the landing, blocking my path to the lower floor.

"Move," I warned.

Instead of stepping aside, Celia’s lips curled into a sly, sinister smile. She didn't say a word. She just started walking backward, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the edge of the stairs behind her.

"What are you doing?" I snapped in frustration, watching her retreat.

She didn't answer. She kept stepping backward until her heels rested right on the ledge of the top stair. That venomous smile never left her face.

Suddenly, she let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream.

Before I could even blink, she threw herself backward. She launched her body off the edge, tumbling down the steep flight of concrete stairs. I stood frozen in stunned disbelief. I watched her roll, noting how she tucked her arms to minimize the damage, until she hit the bottom landing.

She landed in a heap and immediately began writhing on the floor in mock agony.

The heavy metal doors above slammed open. Roman’s heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.

"Help! She pushed me!" Celia wailed, tears instantly flooding her eyes as she pointed a shaking finger up at me.

"What?!" I gasped, my frustration skyrocketing. "I didn't even touch you!"

Roman shoved past me. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't check the cameras. He didn't listen to a word I said. He rushed straight to Celia's side, dropping to his knees.

"Celia? Where are you hurt?" His voice cracked with intense panic.

Upon closer observation, I noticed she wasn't badly hurt at all. She had taken extreme care to ensure the fall wouldn't cause any serious injury. But Roman didn't see that. He only saw his mate crying on the floor.

He lifted his head and shot me a glare so full of burning hatred that it felt like a physical strike. He scooped Celia into his arms and carried her up the stairs and out of the building.

I snapped out of my daze and ran after them. By the time I burst through the lobby doors, Roman was already speeding away in his SUV. I found Garth, my security detail, waiting by my car.

"Follow his car to the pack hospital," I ordered, sliding into the backseat.

The drive was a blur of confusion and rising anger. My mind spun in circles. What was she up to? I knew I hadn't touched her. The smug smile she gave me right before throwing herself off the ledge flashed behind my eyelids on a loop. Suddenly, the reality of her extreme malice set in. She did it on purpose. She faked an injury to frame me, to make me look like an evil, jealous wife, and to ensure Roman would hate me forever.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was forced to sit in the cold, sterile waiting room while Celia was taken into the emergency ward. My leg bounced with nervous energy. The minutes dragged on like hours.

Eventually, I walked down the hall and peered through the glass window of her room. The doctor had wrapped a small bandage around her calf. She was perfectly fine.

Roman stepped out of the room to speak with a doctor down the hall.

Celia looked up and caught me staring through the glass. The innocent, crying victim act vanished. She offered me a wide, mocking smile, taunting me from the hospital bed.

Enraged by her blatant manipulation, my control shattered. I shoved the door open and marched straight into her room.

"You did it on purpose!" I yelled, my anger boiling over. "I never pushed you. Admit it right now!"

Celia shrank back against the pillows, her eyes going wide with manufactured terror. She let out a pathetic whimper.

Before I could reach the foot of her bed, a massive force slammed into my shoulder.

Roman charged into the room. He grabbed my arm and violently shoved me backward. The force of his push sent me flying. I crashed hard onto the cold tile floor, pain shooting up my spine and into my shoulders.

I gasped for air, looking up at the man I loved. The betrayal and utter disbelief in his eyes cut deeper than the physical pain.

"How could you hurt her?" Roman growled, his voice thick with a monstrous rage. His chest heaved as he stood between me and his mate.

"Roman, I didn't!" I pleaded, struggling to sit up.

The hospital belonged to our pack. The shouting had drawn a massive crowd. Doctors, nurses, and pack members gathered in the hallway, peering through the open door to witness the spectacle.

"Not only did you push her, but you're also denying it!" Roman roared, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. "Have you always been this way? Cold-hearted and wicked? You could have killed her!"

My heart shattered into a million pieces at his accusations. I sat on the freezing hospital floor, humiliated. The whispers from the hallway hit my ears. The pack members who had once respected and admired me as their reliable Luna were now staring at me with disgust. In their eyes, I was a spiteful, vicious woman trying to murder my husband's innocent mate. My reputation was being destroyed in real-time.

"Get out," Roman ordered. His voice lacked any trace of the warmth he used to give me. It was cold, hard, and final. "Right now."

I stumbled off the floor. My knees shook. Shock and deep, isolating despair threatened to choke me.

"Roman, believe me. I didn't do it. I never pushed her," I pleaded desperately, tears burning my eyes.

He didn't even look at me. He turned his back, focusing entirely on comforting Celia.

"Go home and wait for me," he instructed without turning around.

With a heavy, bleeding heart, I obeyed. I turned and walked out of the room, forcing my way through the crowd of staring pack members. I trudged down the hospital stairs still in a daze. I couldn't believe this nightmare was real.

Garth pulled the car around. I climbed in, acting purely on autopilot. As he drove us through the gates of our massive mansion, my mind remained trapped in turmoil. I exited the car robotically, carrying the heavy burden of a truth that had been masterfully twisted against me.

I walked through the grand front doors. The servants were already gathered in the hallways. I passed them, unable to process their fake greetings. The hushed whispers about the stairwell incident followed me up the steps like a dark, suffocating cloud, painting me as a villain in my own home.

I pushed open the door to my bedroom and closed it firmly. I didn't bother turning on the lights.

I walked over to the bed and sat down in the suffocating darkness. I pulled my knees to my chest, grappling with my shattered emotions. I tried to make sense of the horrific situation. Celia's calculated decision to fake an injury was an act of unhinged malice. Framing me up like this wasn't just unnecessary; it was a lethal strike against my life in this pack.

I stared at the shadows stretching across the floor. I knew I had to explain everything to Roman. I had to make him understand the truth, to see past her lies.

But as the silence of the mansion pressed down on me, true fear began to set in. Roman was entirely under her control. He believed I was a cold-blooded attempted murderer. I wrapped my arms tighter around my legs, trembling in the dark, dreading the moment he returned.