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Chapter 3

I couldn't sleep that night. The image of that baby's face kept flashing through my mind—something about her features nagged at me. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose... they didn't match Levi's face as much as I'd initially thought.

Dawn found me pacing my bedroom, my mind racing with possibilities I didn't want to consider.

"The child is to be recognized as pack heir," Margaret had announced so proudly.

But what if she wasn't Levi's at all?

I waited until the pack house fell quiet before slipping out of my room. The security office was located in the east wing, a place I rarely visited. My Luna pendant granted me access—for now, at least.

"Luna Roselyn," the night guard acknowledged with a respectful nod. "What brings you here so early?"

"Security concerns," I replied smoothly. "I need to review some footage from the past few months."

He hesitated only briefly before stepping aside. "Of course, Luna."

The security room was lined with monitors displaying different areas of the pack house. I settled into the chair before the main console, my fingers trembling slightly as I accessed the archive system.

"Where to start?" I murmured to myself.

Jerry's private study seemed like the most logical place. As former Alpha, he still maintained an office in the pack house, though he was supposed to have stepped back from active pack duties.

I scrolled through the dates, going back three months—around when this conspiracy must have begun. The first few recordings showed nothing unusual: Jerry working alone, reading reports, making calls.

But then I found it.

Zara slipped into his study one evening, looking nervously over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. The timestamp showed 11:42 PM—well after the pack house should have been settled for the night.

I leaned closer to the screen, my heart pounding as Jerry pulled her into an embrace that was anything but casual. Their kiss was hungry, desperate—the kind that spoke of a long-standing affair, not a recent development.

"Oh my goddess," I whispered, watching as Zara's hands slid under Jerry's shirt.

They moved to the leather couch in the corner of his study, their bodies entwined in a way that made my stomach turn. This wasn't just a dalliance—this was a relationship.

I fast-forwarded through several more recordings, finding similar scenes every few days. In one, Zara presented Jerry with a small gift—a watch I recognized from the pack's luxury goods catalog. In another, they argued heatedly about "being careful" and "not getting caught."

"Of course," I breathed, the pieces falling into place. "The baby isn't Levi's at all."

I pulled up more recent footage, this time from the pack house's common areas. There was Zara, accepting a necklace from Delta Marcus in the garden. Another clip showed her with Gamma Ethan near the training grounds, his hand lingering on her waist.

She wasn't just involved with Jerry—she was maintaining relationships with multiple pack members.

My mind raced back to the baby's face. Now that I knew what to look for, the resemblance to Jerry was unmistakable. The same sharp jawline, the same distinctive eyebrow shape that all Hamilton men shared.

"This isn't just betrayal," I whispered to the empty room. "This is a forbidden bloodline scandal."

In werewolf society, there were certain lines that couldn't be crossed. One of the most sacred was the prohibition against relationships that could confuse pack bloodlines—especially when it involved former Alphas and their sons' chosen mates.

I sat back in my chair, my mind reeling with implications. Margaret wasn't just trying to force me to raise another woman's child—she was trying to cover up her husband's violation of sacred pack law.

The door to the security room swung open, making me jump. Beta Ryan stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Luna Roselyn," he said formally. "Former Luna Margaret requests your presence in the main hall."

"Did she now?" I asked, rising from my seat. "And does she know I've been here?"

Something flickered in Ryan's eyes—doubt, perhaps, or sympathy. "I believe she's aware of your movements throughout the pack house."

Of course she was. Margaret had eyes everywhere.

When I arrived at the main hall, I found Margaret waiting with a cold smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Roselyn, dear," she said sweetly. "I've taken the liberty of reviewing your pack accounts."

My stomach dropped as I realized what was coming.

"Your Luna privileges have been temporarily suspended," she continued, her voice dripping with false concern. "For your own protection, of course. In your... fragile state."

I felt the blood drain from my face as she handed me a tablet showing my access permissions—all revoked.

"Furthermore," Margaret added, "I've informed our neighboring packs about your unfortunate mental breakdown. We wouldn't want them to misinterpret your behavior."

The room seemed to spin around me as I realized the extent of her campaign against me. She wasn't just trying to control me—she was systematically destroying my reputation and cutting off my resources.

"You won't get away with this," I said quietly, my Luna aura flaring despite my weakened position.

Margaret's smile widened. "Oh, but I already have, dear. I already have."

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