Chapter 4 4

Alessandra POV

The three sharp knocks vibrated through the heavy oak door, echoing like a death knell in the quiet suite.

Before I could move, Cressie grabbed my forearm. Her fingers dug into my skin, and her scent-usually a mild, comforting chamomile-spiked with sour, sheer terror.

"Andra, wait," she whispered, her voice trembling so violently she could barely form the words. "It's Nonna Maria's enforcers. Before you go in there... you need to know the truth."

I frowned, looking at her pale face. "What truth, Cressie?"

"Months ago, before the winter snow even melted," she stammered, glancing at the door as if the wood might give way. "I was running errands in the city. I saw them at The Gilded Cage. Nonna Maria and... and Cecelia Preston."

My blood went still. The Gilded Cage was the most exclusive, obscenely expensive human restaurant in the city.

"They were having a private lunch," Cressie continued, tears welling in her eyes. "Nonna Maria was holding her hand across the table, smiling at her like she was already family. This wasn't a sudden mistake, Andra. The Elder orchestrated this. They wanted Cecelia's political connections, but they needed your money."

The revelation hit me like a physical blow, shattering the last fragile illusion I held about the Stone Pack. This wasn't just a weak Alpha thinking with his lower half. This was a systemic, calculated parasitism by the highest authority in the Pack. They had planned to bleed me dry and replace me the moment I was no longer useful.

The lingering pain of the broken mate-bond evaporated, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity.

"Thank you, Cressie," I said, my voice eerily calm. I picked up the heavy leather ledger and the ring of safe keys. "Finish packing."

I didn't wait for the enforcers to open the door. I swung it open myself and marched straight toward the Elder's wing.

Nonna Maria's suite was dimly lit and suffocating. The air was thick with the stale stench of medicinal herbs and mothballs, violently clashing with the collective, arrogant musk of the Stone family. Angelo, Kandi, Geno, and Boone lounged in the antique armchairs. Standing beside Angelo was Cecelia, her artificial rose and vanilla perfume polluting the room.

Nonna Maria sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her withered hands folded over her cane. She looked at me with the condescending authority of a Pack Elder.

"Alessandra," the old woman rasped, her tone dripping with false benevolence. "We have reached a decision for the prosperity of the Pack. Angelo will take Cecelia as his chosen mate to secure a vital alliance with the human courts. However, recognizing your... contributions, you will remain here. You will retain your duties managing the Pack's finances and the Silvermoon trusts. A coexistence."

They wanted to keep the golden goose while parading the new pet.

I looked at the smug faces of the family I had fed, clothed, and protected. A dark, razor-sharp smile touched my lips.

"No," I said simply.

Nonna Maria's eyes narrowed. "You do not have a choice, wolfless. It is an Elder's decree."

"Actually, I have three," I replied, my voice ringing with the dormant authority of my White Wolf bloodline. "First, my financial contract with this Pack was bound by the Blood Oath sworn to my dying mother. Angelo publicly broke that oath today. The contract is void."

Angelo shifted uncomfortably, his smug scent souring slightly.

"Second," I continued, taking a step closer to the table. "The Pack Doctor officially cleared your health last week, Nonna Maria. Therefore, the Silvermoon medical trust will no longer cover your exorbitant 'rehabilitation' expenses."

The old woman's jaw tightened, a flicker of genuine panic crossing her wrinkled face.

"And third," I said, turning my gaze to Cecelia, who was watching me with wide, clueless eyes. "According to ancient Pack Law, the wealth and welfare of a Pack are to be managed jointly by the Alpha and his chosen Luna. I would never dare overstep and strip the new 'Luna' of her rightful duties."

With a swift, deliberate motion, I slid the thick, heavy ledger and the iron ring of safe keys across the polished mahogany table. They scraped loudly against the wood, coming to a dead stop right in front of Cecelia's manicured hands.

"The crown is yours, Cecelia," I said softly, my eyes locking onto hers. "Along with every single empty account and overdue debt."

The arrogant musk in the room vanished, instantly replaced by the suffocating stench of shock and dawning horror.

Without waiting for a response, I turned my back on them and walked toward the door.