The Forgotten Sister

Hazel's Pov:

Stepping through the massive glass double doors of the Grand Crest Hotel, my eyes were instantly blinded by an overwhelming display of wealth and power. The air inside the sprawling foyer was crisp, carrying the heavy scent of roasted meats, expensive floral arrangements, and the underlying, potent musk of hundreds of elite werewolves. High above my head, gigantic crystal chandeliers projected scattered rainbows across flawlessly polished marble floors. A grand indoor fountain roared in the exact center of the lobby, its cascading waters drowning out the immediate chatter of arriving guests. This was a place built for kings, for Alphas, for destined mates to celebrate their perfect unions. It was the chosen battleground for Chloe and Caleb's lavish wedding reception.

For me, it was something entirely different. It was my very first time encountering the outside world in seven agonizing years.

I took a shaky breath, letting the fresh, unfiltered air fill my lungs. The simple act of seeing a clear sky through the massive skylights sent a restless shiver down my spine. The last time I stood outside these invisible prison walls was the day of my sixteenth birthday. That fateful, cursed year when all my peers successfully transformed and felt the glorious connection to their inner wolves. I stood beneath a full moon and waited for a pain that never came. I failed to awaken my wolf. That single physiological failure had cost me everything in an instant. My father looked at me with unbridled disgust, stripping away his pride. My stepmother Beatrice no longer bothered to hide her cruel intolerance. My childhood friends vanished like ghosts in the wind. And above all, it cost me Caleb Henshaw.

I pulled nervously at the hem of my plain, shapeless black dress. It was a cheap fabric, ending just over my knees, offering zero warmth against the chilling air conditioning of the luxury hotel. I looked exactly like what I was: an unwanted intruder among glittering high-society guests. Pacing the perimeter of the bustling room, I tried to make myself as small as possible. The women around me wore silk evening gowns trailing across the marble. The men strutted in tailored tuxedos that emphasized their broad, wolfish shoulders. I kept my head down, navigating the edges of the crowded corridor, desperate to disappear into the shadows.

A hard shoulder clipped my arm.

I stumbled backward, instinctively lowering my gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry."

It was an automatic response. An apology for existing, for taking up space, regardless of who was at fault. I stepped back to give the stranger room, but the person did not move. Slowly, I lifted my head. My eyes landed on a stunning woman in a resplendent, off-the-shoulder red gown. Her hair was perfectly pinned up in an elegant chignon, and the high slit in her dress revealed long, confident strides.

"Hazel? Wow, it's been a long time. Where have you been?" Clara Henshaw asked. She paused, her gaze sweeping over my modest black attire with a heavy blend of disbelief and calculated malice.

Clara was Caleb's twin sister. We used to be inseparable. We played in the same gardens, shared the same childish dreams of finding our destined mates, and swore to be bridesmaids at each other's weddings. But the moment my wolf failed to manifest, Clara's warmth turned to ice. She traded my friendship for Chloe's status, leaving me to drown in my own isolation.

I kept my hands folded tightly in front of my stomach, digging my nails into my palms. "I've been around. Just busy."

"Busy with what? Are you managing your father's mall?" Clara pressed. She nudged my arm with a mischievous, mocking smile, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I forced a stiff, awkward smile to my lips. I prayed silently to the Moon Goddess that she would walk away, leaving me to my misery. But Clara did not move. She took a deliberate step closer, invading my personal space.

"I mean, has the goddess finally shown pity on you?" Clara whispered silkily. The venom dripped from every syllable, designed for my ears only.

Before I could manage an ounce of courage to respond to her vicious jab, a sharp voice cut through the ambient noise in the lobby.

"Clara, what are you doing with her?"

I looked past Clara's shoulder to see her mother marching away from the marble reception desk. The older woman wore a glittering pink gown. When her eyes landed on my face, her expression twisted into pure, unfiltered contempt. She grabbed Clara by the arm and pulled her away, casting one final, disgusted glare in my direction, as if looking at me would infect them both with a disease.

I exhaled a shaky breath, turning my back to the crowd. I needed a quiet place to hide. Following a narrow, carpeted hallway away from the main lobby doors, I hurried toward a set of ornate wooden archways. There were fewer people here. Just tall statues and dim, atmospheric lighting.

I rounded the corner of the archway, my head still down, only to ram right into a solid, unyielding chest.

I bounced back with a startled gasp. A pair of strong hands gently grabbed my elbows to steady me. The immediate smell of ocean breeze and expensive pine cologne flooded my senses, stealing the breath straight out of my lungs. I knew that scent. I had dreamed about that scent for seven years. I snapped my head up.

Caleb Henshaw stood directly in front of me.

He wore a custom-tailored dark blue tuxedo that brought out the striking sea-blue color of his eyes. Caleb was my first love. He was the boy who defended me from playground bullies, the teenager who promised he would protect me no matter what. I had secretly banked my entire childhood on the hope that when we turned sixteen, the Moon Goddess would declare us mates. Instead, she declared him destined for my half-sister, Chloe.

Caleb's eyes widened in genuine shock before softening into a warm, deeply familiar light. "Hazel? Wow, it's been a long time since we laid eyes on each other. How have you been?"

"I'm fine." I replied, my voice betraying a slight tremble.

Caleb backed up a half-step. His gaze roamed from the top of my messy hair, down the cheap fabric of my plain black dress, all the way to my scuffed shoes. My heart stopped beating. This was it. This was the moment he would realize how pathetic I looked. He would look down on me, just like his sister and his mother. I braced for the stinging rejection.

"You look gorgeous... in this dress," Caleb murmured. His voice dipped low, rumbling with a heavy sincerity that made my heart race with a painful, suffocating nostalgia.

A small, nervous smile broke through my defensive wall. Out of all the people in this venue, getting validation from Caleb felt like a cruel trick, yet it filled my spirit with a desperate, fleeting warmth.

"Thank you." I whispered.

"We get a lot to talk about and catch on like old days. Honestly, I thought you were no longer in town, but I'm glad to see you at my wedding." Caleb added with an easy, radiant smile.

The word shattered the illusion instantly. *My wedding.*

A bitter lump of unrequited grief swelled in my throat, cutting off my air supply. I was standing face-to-face with the man I loved, listening to him express joy about marrying my vicious half-sister. I forced myself to nod silently. I had zero right to ruin his mood. I swallowed the tears burning behind my eyes.

Suddenly, Clara swooped back into the hallway. She wedged herself between us, linking her arm aggressively through Caleb's elbow. Her eyes shot daggers at me.

"Bro, the wedding is starting. You need to be present. Your bride will be showing up soon." Clara announced, digging her manicured fingers into his tuxedo sleeve and dragging the groom back toward the main hall.

"Sure. We will talk some other time, I don't want to keep my bride waiting." Caleb spoke over his shoulder. He spun away on his heel, hurrying down the lobby without a second glance.

From the shadows near the back pillars of the Grand Reception Hall, I watched the nightmare unfold over the next hour.

The ceremonial hall was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling city skyline, bathing the massive room in golden sunlight. The floor was covered in a plush red carpet, leading up to a grand altar decorated with white silk and hundreds of blooming white roses. The city's most elite werewolf clans packed the rows of silver chairs. Standing right at the front, grinning from ear to ear, was my father. Beside him stood my stepmother Beatrice. My father looked like a king who had won a glorious war, bursting with uncontainable pride as his chosen daughter secured the most powerful alliance in the pack.

I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled, watching Chloe and Caleb exchange their solemn marital vows. The ritual was flawless. When they kissed, the entire hall erupted into deafening cheers and howling applause. My chest cracked open, spilling the last remaining drops of my childhood hope onto the cold marble floor.

Once the formal ceremony concluded, the opulent reception began in full swing. Crystal glasses clinked. Waiters in formal vests roamed the floor distributing expensive champagne. Laughter echoed off the high ceilings. The elite wolves mingled, flexing their wealth and dominance.

I took a step backward toward the nearest exit. My job here was done. I wanted nothing more than to slip away unnoticed and lock myself back in my bedroom for another seven years.

A rustling sound approached from my left. I froze.

Chloe marched straight toward me, dragging her extravagant, diamond-crusted bridal train across the tiles. Her face was flushed with triumph, but underneath the makeup, her eyes flashed with a familiar, venomous condescension. She stopped inches from my face, scanning my plain clothes with disgust.

"Who's going to serve all these guests? Come on, it's your job. It's the only thing you are good at." Chloe snapped, gesturing aggressively toward the laughing crowd of wealthy guests.

I gritted my teeth, fighting back the hot tears of humiliation threatening to spill over my eyelashes. Arguing with the bride on her wedding day would only end with my father throwing me out onto the streets. Without a word, I bowed my head and turned away.

I approached a passing hotel waiter in the center aisle. Taking a deep breath, I reached out.

"I will help you with that." I told the confused staff member, grabbing the heavy silver tray laden with tall glasses of champagne and bright orange cocktails.

I began circulating among the heavily decorated tables. I kept my head down, offering drinks to groups of roaring men and gossiping women, praying no one would recognize the Alpha's discarded, wolfless daughter playing the role of a hired servant. My arms grew heavy. The silver tray dug into my palms.

Eventually, the path forced me toward a large, semi-circular booth near the windows. I recognized the occupants immediately. It was Chloe's former high school clique. Three girls and two boys, all dripping in designer jewelry and tailored suits. These were the same people who used to trip me in the hallways, shove me into lockers, and howl with laughter while Chloe tormented me.

I placed several champagne flutes onto the center of their table, trying to make the drop as fast as possible.

One of the boys leaned back, crossing his arms. He looked me up and down. A cruel smirk spread across his face. "I can't believe Chloe would invite someone like her. Hey, Hazel, hope you've been blessed with the goddess gift, right? And you already have a mate, right?"

The entire table burst into roaring, obnoxious laughter.

A girl wearing a tight, bright orange gown flipped her brown wavy hair over her shoulder. She let out a high-pitched giggle. "Who'd want to settle down with someone who is wolfless?"

I squeezed the edges of the silver tray until my knuckles turned white.

"Do have a wonderful time." I whispered, turning quickly on my heel to walk away.

As I shifted my weight, the girl in the orange gown deliberately extended her bare arm right across my path. Her elbow slammed into a tall cocktail glass at the edge of the booth.

The glass tipped over into thin air.

Cold, sticky orange liquid cascaded directly down the front of my black dress, soaking rapidly through the cheap fabric and clinging to my stomach. The heavy crystal smashed violently against the marble floor, shattering into dozens of razor-sharp shards that sprayed across my shoes.

The loud crash brought total silence to the immediate vicinity. Several heads turned to stare.

"Oops, sorry. My bad." The girl in the orange gown sneered, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm as she feigned a gasp.

My chest heaved. Humiliation burned through my veins like acid. I stared down at the sticky mess ruining my only decent piece of clothing. I took a step back from the broken glass.

A tall man sitting beside the girl leaned aggressively forward in his chair. "Is the stain on your wrinkled dress more important than the mess on the floor? Get down on your knees and clean the glass before anyone steps on it."

My spine locked into place. Decades of ingrained submission and fear overrode my dignity. In this world, the weak obeyed.

"I'm sorry." I whispered automatically, dropping heavily onto my bare knees right among the jagged crystal shards.

I reached my trembling fingers out, preparing to scoop the sharp, dangerous pieces into my bare palm. Just before my skin could graze the broken edge of the crystal, a massive shadow fell over me.

A large, heavily calloused hand clamped forcefully around my wrist.

The grip was iron-clad, radiating a terrifying, scorching heat that halted my movement in mid-air. The sheer physical power contained in those thick fingers sent a jolt of raw electricity shooting straight up my arm. Startled, my breath hitched in my throat. I slowly lifted my chin, following the line of a dark sleeve up to broad, dominant shoulders.

I gasped aloud, my heart slamming violently against my ribcage.

I was staring directly into a pair of striking, faint emerald-green eyes.

Vane Silas Adler.