Chapter 4
The studio lights blinded me as I adjusted my position in the makeup chair. Behind the scenes of "The Pack Truth," I could hear the production team scrambling to prepare for what they thought would be the scandal of the year.
"Mrs. O'Brien?" A woman in a dark suit approached, flashing a badge. "I'm Special Agent Sarah Chen with the FBI. We need to finalize our arrangements."
I nodded, gesturing for her to sit beside me. "Are your people in position?"
"Front three rows are all ours," she confirmed, her voice low. "The moment Emerald confirms her involvement on camera, we'll move in."
Naya appeared at my shoulder, her detective's instincts making her scan the room constantly. "The recording equipment is ready. We've bypassed the studio's feed—what the audience sees will be what we want them to see."
I studied my reflection in the mirror, applying a final touch of lipstick. The woman staring back at me wasn't the broken Luna from the christening. This was a woman ready for war.
"The DNA test is legitimate," I said to Sarah. "But the real evidence is in these files." I handed her a thick folder. "Emerald's financial transactions with the Blackwood syndicate. Money laundering, child trafficking—it's all there."
Sarah's eyes widened slightly as she flipped through the pages. "This is enough to bury her."
"Not just her," I replied, thinking of Benjamin's smug face. "Both of them."
---
The lights dimmed as the show began. I sat rigidly in my chair, watching Benjamin take center stage. He'd dressed impeccably for his performance—a tailored suit that I'd paid for, a watch I'd gifted him, and the practiced expression of a wounded Alpha.
"Our viewers are tuning in from across the country," the host announced, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "Today, we're here to resolve one of the most shocking scandals in pack history."
Benjamin leaned forward, his eyes glistening with tears that I knew were as fake as Emerald's medical degree. "I came here today seeking truth," he said, his voice breaking perfectly. "As Alpha of the Silverveil Pack, I deserve to know if the child my wife carried is truly mine."
The audience murmured sympathetically. I caught sight of Emerald in the wings, her crimson dress catching the light as she prepared to make her entrance.
"Joining us now is Dr. Emerald Chavez," the host continued, "who has conducted extensive testing on Alpha Benjamin's fertility."
Emerald glided onto the stage, every inch the professional in her white coat with fake credentials embroidered on the pocket. "The medical evidence is clear," she stated, her voice carrying authority she hadn't earned. "Alpha Benjamin's condition makes natural conception virtually impossible."
She turned to me, her smile venomous. "Which raises the question—whose child is Chelsea really carrying?"
The audience gasped. I remained silent, letting them dig their graves deeper.
"Chelsea," the host prompted, "would you like to respond to these allegations?"
I reached for the folder beside me. "Actually, I'd like to present some evidence of my own."
Emerald's smile faltered slightly as I handed the folder to the host.
"Inside, you'll find documentation proving that Dr. Emerald Chavez does not exist in any medical licensing database in the country."
The host's eyes widened as she flipped through the pages.
"That's absurd," Emerald sputtered, but I could see panic flickering behind her eyes.
"Is it?" I asked calmly. "Then perhaps you can explain why Dr. Ivan O'Brien, Chief of Surgery at Seattle General Hospital, has provided this statement."
The studio screens flickered to life, displaying my father's professional testimony. His authoritative voice filled the studio: "I have reviewed the medical reports attributed to Dr. Emerald Chavez and can confirm they contain multiple inconsistencies with standard medical practice."
Benjamin's face paled as he turned to Emerald. "What is this?"
Before she could answer, I pressed another button on my remote. Emerald's voice filled the studio—the recording from our meeting at the café.
"I will be the new Luna by the end of the month," her voice sneered through the speakers. "And once I am, I'll make sure your little bastard is sent to the best orphanage money can buy."
The audience fell silent. On the monitors showing social media feeds, I watched as the tide began to turn. Comments that had been viciously attacking me moments before now expressed horror and disgust—at Emerald.
"Chelsea," Benjamin stammered, "I didn't know—"
"You didn't know?" I cut him off, my voice ice-cold. "Or you didn't care?"
Emerald stood frozen, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her as federal agents began moving toward the stage.
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