From Elara's POV
I'm holding a shaking champagne glass.
I try to stop the trembling by tightening my grip, but my fingers won't cooperate. Two hundred well-dressed people are chatting and laughing around me on Christmas Eve as if nothing were going wrong. Perhaps their worlds aren't. Mine is crumbling, piece by piece, and nobody can see it.
Maybe Marcus, though.
My fiancé is standing next to me, his hand resting on my lower back, but tonight it doesn't feel right. chilly. As if he's only touching me because people are observing. Marcus is tall and attractive, with flawless hair and a smile, and I catch him staring across the room when I look up at him.
in Victoria.
My stepsister.
Wearing a red dress that most likely cost more than my rent, she is standing close to the chocolate fountain. The lights from the chandelier highlight her blonde hair. She smiles when she notices Marcus staring. Not your typical smile. A smile in private.
My stomach turns over.
"You okay?" Marcus continues to stare at her as he asks.
"Fine," I tell a lie.
I'm not doing well. Mom passed away three years ago, leaving me with a flower shop that is deeply in debt and a family that never wanted me in the first place. Since then, I haven't been okay. Standing in my stepfather Richard's mansion with people whispering about "poor Grace's daughter" when they think I can't hear makes me uncomfortable. I can't afford a new dress, so I'm not comfortable wearing the one I borrowed from my friend Mira.
Furthermore, the way Marcus continues to gaze at Victoria bothers me.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The ballroom echoes with Richard's loud voice. With a microphone in hand, my stepfather appears to be the prosperous businessman he is as he stands on the small stage in front. We appreciate your attendance at our yearly Christmas Eve fundraiser. We pay tribute to my late wife Grace tonight, who used her flower shop to bring beauty to our town.
My throat constricts. Mom's flower shop. Thorns and Petals. The place where I spent every day after school, learning to arrange roses and tie ribbons. the location that will soon be taken away from me since I am unable to pay the bank.
I currently have the foreclosure notice burning like a hot coal in my purse.
Richard goes on, "Grace would be so proud," and I want to scream. Even when Mom was alive, he wasn't kind to her. referred to her shop as a "cute hobby" as if it weren't her entire life. "Now, I'd like to invite a special guest to speak for a short while. Marcus Chen, hurry up!
My heart stops.
Marcus gives my hand one too-tight, nearly painful squeeze before making his way to the stage. People give applause. I don't. There's a problem. There's a serious problem.
Marcus grabs the microphone and gives me a direct look. He does not have a loving expression. It's... sympathetic.
"Thank you, Richard," he says with ease. "I wanted to discuss love tonight. True love. the truthful and sincere kind."
With this, where is he headed?
He says my name, "Elara," as if it were unpleasant. "What a wonderful woman you are. You put in a lot of effort. You're very concerned. However.
No. No, no, no.
However, I am unable to wed someone who is stuck in the past. Someone who is unable to move forward due to debt and memories." His voice reverberates throughout the quiet ballroom. Now everyone is looking at me. Phones emerge. People begin to record. "I need a companion who shares my vision for the future. Someone powerful. Someone who can support me without pulling me down."
The space whirls.
Marcus turns and says, "Victoria," extending his hand. "Come here, baby."
My stepsister moves like a queen through the ballroom. Marcus's hand is taken by her. gives him a cheek kiss. The diamond on her finger catches the light—a ring bigger than the one Marcus gave me.
Marcus declares, "Victoria and I are in love," to the assembly. "We're getting married this spring."
There are loud gasps. Phones flicker. Someone laughs—a mean, sharp sound. My dad is grinning. grinning. As if this was prearranged. As if he was aware.
Everyone was aware.
Marcus's voice softens and becomes phony-kind when he says, "And Elara," which somehow hurts more. "You must close that flower shop. You're dying from it. I'm purchasing the property with Victoria. We plan to demolish that old structure and construct a new one. Something that genuinely fosters the development of this town."
I let go of the champagne glass. Glass and golden liquid are sprayed everywhere as it breaks on the marble floor. However, the roaring in my ears makes it difficult for me to hear.
Mom's shop is being taken by him. He's stealing what's left of her.
Marcus goes on, "The bank already approved everything," further twisting the knife. "Next week, the foreclosure is finalized. Really, we're doing you a favor. assisting you in moving on.
With a smile as sharp as shattered glass, Victoria leans into Marcus. "Elara, no animosity. I take it you comprehend? Marcus needs someone who is on par with him.
Whispers, gasps, and a few awkward giggles fill the room. The garden club's Mrs. Patterson covers her mouth. Mr. Henderson gives a headshake. Everyone is staring at me, anticipating my next move.
Weep? Scream? Disintegrate?
I hear my mother's voice in my head: "Baby, hold your head high. Never allow them to witness your break.
I raise my chin. I have to hold my hands together because they are trembling so much, but I look Marcus in the eye from across the room. I say, "You're right," loud enough for everyone to hear. My voice sounds cold and distant, as if I'm floating outside of my body, and it doesn't sound like mine. "I do need to move on."
I turn and head for the door. It feels like you're walking through water with each step. The crowd splits up. People gaze. My friend Mira tries to stop me with a worried expression on her face, but I continue on my way.
"Elara, wait—" I don't stop when Richard calls.
I force my way through the front doors of the mansion and into the chilly Christmas Eve evening. Like frozen tears, snow falls. I don't have a coat on. The wind is unaffected by my flimsy dress. I don't care, though.
I sprint.
Towards downtown, through the upscale neighborhood, and down the driveway. In the direction of Mom's store. My heels get buried in the snow. My feet become numb. I can no longer tell if the ice that forms on my lashes is actually tears.
The mansion behind me is filled with Christmas cheer and cozy light. The streets are dark ahead.
I run until my lungs burn. Until my fingers become unresponsive. Until my mother's voice and my heartbeat are all I can hear: The wolves will remember you, baby. They will arrive when you most need them.
I never got what she was trying to say.
Not until I get to Petals & Thorns and see the foreclosure notice, which is nailed to the door like a death sentence.
Not until I finally let myself break and fall inside among Mom's withering roses while holding her silver locket.
Until I hear it, that is.
A sound out of place in the city. A sound that simultaneously makes my blood run hot and cold.
A low, agonized growl that sounds almost human emanates from the alley behind the store.
With tears still streaming down my cheeks, I freeze.
There's something in the dark out there.
Something significant.
Something that is calling to me while bleeding and dying.
Suddenly, Mom's locket burns hot against my skin.
And I have a gut feeling that my ruined life is going to get even worse.
or perhaps far more hazardous.
With trembling legs, I get up and move in the direction of the back door.
In the direction of whatever lies in the snow.
Toward my destiny.