Oliva's POV
"So… what do you think?" Mother asked, raising a brow at me. She gave me that confident look, like she was offering me the best gift in the world, utterly convinced I wouldn't dare refuse.
My wolf was already pacing inside me, her hackles raised. And God help me, she was my mother. If she had been anyone else, I would've spat in her face for suggesting such rubbish.
With a glare sharp enough to cut steel, I met her eyes. "Never happening, Mother. I'm not marrying Lord Frederick," I hissed.
The anger on her face deepened, but I didn't care. In fact, in that moment, I regretted healing her. I should've just let her stay in the coma. Life would've been so much easier for me.
Her eyes darkened with my refusal, but I still didn't care. Right now, she felt more like a stranger than the woman who gave birth to me.
