Chapter 3 003

Stephanie's POV:

I paced back and forth in the room, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor as I bit my nails absentmindedly. The ticking of the clock on the wall felt like a hammer pounding in my skull, each second dragging out as if time itself was mocking me.

I wanted answers. No, I needed them. Why hadn't she been there for me all these years? What kind of mother abandons her child? It wasn't something I could wrap my head around. Part of me-a small, naive part-wanted to believe there was a reason, something I could understand. But another part-the hurt, angry part-whispered that this might just be another one of her manipulative games, some ploy to make things work in her favor.

I was pulled from my spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. It startled me, my pacing abruptly halting mid-step.

"Come in," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. The door opened, and the maid walked in, balancing a tray of food carefully in her hands. She placed it on the small table near the window, the aroma wafting through the room. It smelled warm and inviting, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiled tightly inside of me.

"Your mother said you should eat," she said politely, her tone careful.

"I'm not hungry," I replied quickly, my irritation bubbling to the surface. "Take it away."

The maid hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, her voice soft but steady. "I know this feeling."

Her words made me pause. I turned to face her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" I asked, curiosity flickering in my voice despite my frustration.

She hesitated, her gaze lowering briefly before meeting mine again. "Having a mother who's hard to understand." Her words carried an undercurrent of pain. "Trust me, I've been there."

Her response caught me off guard. I didn't expect her to say something so personal, so raw. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice quieter now, the sharp edge softening as I studied her.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging as if weighed down by invisible burdens. "My mother abandoned me the day I was born. She left me with my grandmother and never looked back. For years, I hated her for it. I wanted answers, so I searched for her when I was old enough. I found her eventually... living a perfect life with her new family." Her voice cracked, a tremor of pain slipping through. "She had moved on, like I didn't even exist. I despised her for that. I swore I'd never forgive her."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I could see the hurt etched into her face.

"When my grandmother died, my mother came back," she continued, her voice trembling. "She said she wanted to explain herself, to tell me why she left. But I wouldn't let her. I refused to hear her out. Every time she tried to reach out to me, I shut her down. I thought I was protecting myself. Then, one day, she came to visit me, as she always did, and I sent her away again." She paused, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "That same day, she died in a car accident. On her way back home."

My breath caught in my throat. "Oh my God," I whispered, my hands flying to cover my mouth. "I... I'm so sorry."

She wiped at her cheeks, her tears falling freely now. "Since then, I've been drowning in guilt. It's worse than the anger I used to feel. So much worse. I'll never know what she wanted to tell me. I'll never know if she had a reason for what she did. And I'll never forgive myself for not giving her a chance to explain. That guilt? It's a scar that will never heal."

Her voice cracked completely, and she broke down, her shoulders shaking as she cried. I felt tears well up in my own eyes. Her pain was so raw, so visceral, that it seeped into me, filling every corner of my chest.

"She was the only family I had," she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "And I let my anger take away the chance to know her. Now all I have left are regrets and unanswered questions. Questions that will haunt me for the rest of my life."

I wanted to say something, to comfort her somehow, but she cut me off before I could speak. "You think you hate your mother," she said, looking at me with swollen, tear-filled eyes. "But you don't. That's just the grudge talking. Give her a chance. Don't make the same mistake I did. Regret... regret hurts so much more than anger ever could."

Her words struck me like lightning, leaving me stunned and silent. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She clung to me, her sobs muffled against my shoulder as I rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

After a moment, she pulled back, wiping her tears with trembling hands. "If you go now, you can still catch up with her," she said gently, her words both a plea and a push.

I nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at my lips. "Thank you," I said softly before rushing out of the room.

When I arrived at the dining room, everyone was already standing, preparing to leave. My mother sat at the head of the table, her expression tired and forlorn.

A man stood behind her, tall and broad like the five devil brothers, but the difference was that he was older. He had gray hair, which was cut neatly. He was rubbing my mother's back.

As I stepped into the room, the brothers turned, their eyes locking onto me. Their expressions were blank and unreadable, and it made my stomach twist. What were they thinking?

"She's here," Nicholas said, breaking the silence, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Welcome back, princess," Aiden added, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I scoffed, ignoring him as I fixed my gaze on my mother.

She looked up at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Why are you here?" she asked quietly, her voice wavering. "To judge me some more?"

I shook my head, sitting across from her. "No," I said firmly. "I want to hear what you have to say. But we should talk somewhere more private."

"There's no need for that," she replied, shaking her head. "Whatever I have to say needs to be heard by everyone here. Without them, you won't believe me anyway."

Although it was weird that everyone had to present with the discussion I found to be personal and between my mother, I couldn't help but agree. I would be giving her that chance to explain herself so I would follow her rules-for now.

"Fine," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I'm all ears. What's this grand explanation that's supposed to erase ten years of pain? Ten years of growing up without a mother?"

Her gaze softened, but there was steel behind her words. "I didn't abandon you, Stephanie. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I scoffed. "Protect me from what?"

"From yourself," she said, her voice trembling. "From what you are. From your kind."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I frowned, confusion tightening my chest. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, protect me from myself? What's my kind?"

"You're not human, Stephanie," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're a werewolf. You got it from your late father."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and absurd. And then, I laughed. It wasn't just a chuckle-it was a full, uncontrollable burst of laughter. "You're joking, right?" I said through my laughter. "Seriously, Mom. Since when are you an author? Is this your new fantasy novel?"

But as I looked around, I realized no one else was laughing. Their faces were solemn, their expressions grave. My amusement faded as the weight of their silence pressed down on me.

"She's telling the truth," the man standing beside my mother said, his deep voice cutting through the tension.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And who the hell are you?"

"Stephanie!" my mother scolded.

"It's fine, darling," the man said, his calm tone only irritating me further. "Teenagers can be... impulsive." He stepped forward, extending his hand toward me. "I'm Peterson Salvador. Your mother's husband."

My eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, which was plastered with an annoyingly calm smile. I debated ignoring him, but an idea sparked in my mind.

Being rebellious wouldn't help me here. These people were clearly crazy. If I wanted to escape from here, I would need to play along with them. That way, their guard would be down, and I would be able to make a move.

So I smiled, taking his hand in mine. "I'm so sorry for being rude," I said sweetly. "I didn't know you were my mysterious stepfather. Thank you for taking care of my mother."

To my satisfaction, my mother's face twisted in surprise, though the brothers remained as unreadable as ever. I didn't care about them. My focus was on gaining Peterson's and my mother's trust.

"So," I said, my voice light and curious. "You're telling me werewolves are real? Is that I'm one of them?"

My mother nodded. "You are."

"Wow," I said, feigning awe. "That's... incredible. So, am I the only werewolf in existence?"

Peterson chuckled. "Oh, no, dear," he said. "This entire town is filled with werewolves. Everyone in this room is a werewolf-except your mother, of course. She's a witch."

A witch? I nearly laughed again, but I swallowed the urge. I needed them to believe I was buying into this madness. If I played my cards right, I would be out of this house as soon as possible.

"So does that make me a werewitch?" I questioned, and my mom nodded. Of course, she would agree. It takes another crazy person to understand a crazy person. I couldn't believe I actually expected anything different from her.

"So, I'm like Bonnie Bennett," I said with a fake smile.

"More like Hope Mikaleson," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just without the vampire part."

I let out a sarcastic laugh and lifted my hand dramatically and waved it in her direction. "Abracadabra," I said, my tone dripping with faux excitement.

My mother and Peterson burst into laughter, their genuine amusement filling the room.

"It doesn't work that way, dear. You still have a lot to learn, but it would be easier for you since you're in this town now surrounded by people like you," my mother said to me.

I crossed my arms. "So how does everyone being present contribute to this explanation?" I asked out of curiosity.

My mother straightened in her seat, her expression growing more composed. "I thought you wouldn't believe me," she admitted.

"They are proof that werewolves exist. Shifting into their forms would have convinced you if you doubted, but since you believed, there's no need for them to do that again. You have heard enough for today." She had a relieved look on her face.

I nodded in agreement. There's nothing I would want more right now than my space. Listening to her spill rubbish and everyone in the room supporting her in this only made my head spin.

"If that's all, I'll be in my room," I said, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet.

"Thank you, Stephanie," my mother said softly, her eyes holding an unfamiliar warmth. She was sounding so sincere, and something in me believed her.

"For what?"

"For giving me a chance to explain myself. You don't know how much this means to me that you're beginning to trust me, so thank you." She replied.

I hesitated for just a moment before forcing a small smile. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the dining room.

I didn't want to spend another day in this house because if I did, I might start believing them, making me crazy too. I needed to be out of here as soon as possible so my mental health would remain intact.

I'm making my move tonight.