Lady Charlotte, the new bride's family has arrived. The Matriarch requests your presence at dinner."
A guard announced from outside Charlotte's room.
The hand holding her makeup brush froze mid-air. She raised her eyes to the guard's reflection in the mirror, her expression stiffening.
She stayed silent for a few seconds, her jaw tight, before asking quietly, "And where is my son?"
The guard hesitated. "He will be at dinner, ma'am."
Charlotte's fingers tightened around the brush. She flicked her wrist, signaling him to leave.
Only when the door clicked shut did she exhale.
Rising slowly from her seat at the vanity, she studied her reflection. She forced a smile.
"Too fake," she muttered.
She tried again. Softer this time. Warmer.
Still wrong.
When the expression refused to come together, she shut her eyes and breathed deeply, as though trying to cage the fury burning inside her chest.
Then she snapped.
Her arm swept across the vanity in one violent motion. Everything crashed to the floor—perfume bottles shattered, glass glittered across the carpet, and liquid spread like spilled anger, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent.
Charlotte inhaled slowly. Then she looked at her reflection once more and smiled.
"Now. Much better."
She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and glided toward the door.
---
Dinner that night was the quietest Nina had ever had.
The dining room was steeped in tension, the only sound the soft clink of cutlery against plates. No one spoke. No one looked at anyone else for longer than a second.
Nina had avoided looking at the Alpha since the incident in the living room. She kept her eyes on her plate, moving food around with her fork, barely eating.
But when she noticed a servant carrying in separate bowls of food—different from the dishes the rest of them were eating—her curiosity got the better of her.
She glanced up.
Rodrigo's cutlery and dishes were black, engraved with strange markings she couldn't make out from where she sat. The bowls were placed before him with careful precision, the servant's hands trembling slightly as he set them down.
What the hell was wrong with this man?
Her lips parted as another servant stepped forward and lifted a spoon. He tasted the food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then stood silently by. Only when he gave a small nod did Rodrigo sit upright and begin eating.
Nina blinked.
Was he some sort of ancient tyrant king? Who had their food tasted in this day and age?
She forced herself to look away. Everything about him was strange. Cold. Unsettling.
Footsteps echoed near the doors, pulling her attention away.
She looked up—and instantly locked eyes with a woman whose gaze was so dark and piercing that a shiver raced down her spine.
The woman was beautiful. Elegant. Dressed in deep burgundy silk that clung to her figure. There was a smile on her face, warm and welcoming.
But her eyes told a different story. Malicious. Almost predatory.
Whoever this woman was, Nina could feel it in her bones—she despised her already. And they hadn't even exchanged a single word.
The Matriarch's expression soured the moment the woman entered.
"You took your ample time," she said coldly.
Charlotte's smile didn't waver. Not even slightly. As though she had perfected it over years of practice.
"I was informed late about dinner. Forgive my manners." Her voice was smooth, honeyed, and then her gaze met Nina's and she smiled.
"She must be the new bride."
Nina felt the weight of that stare like a hand pressing against her chest. She nodded politely, keeping her voice steady.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Mrs. Charlotte Vespertine," the woman said, gliding closer. "But you can call me Charlotte. We're going to be family, after all."
"Pleased to meet you, Charlotte," Nina replied.
If she remembered correctly, Charlotte was Rodrigo's stepmother—his father's second wife, married after his mother died just after giving birth to him. Nina risked a glance at Rodrigo.
He was still eating. He hadn't looked up once since Charlotte entered. Hadn't acknowledged her presence at all.
Interesting.
Charlotte moved toward the table, reaching for a chair, but the Matriarch's sharp voice stopped her.
"And your son? Did he not receive my message?"
Charlotte's smile faltered for the first time.
"He—"
"I'm here, Grandmother."
A voice sounded from the doorway.
Nina turned to see a man who could have been Charlotte's mirror image. Tall. Handsome. Dark hair swept back from a face that was almost too perfect. He moved with effortless confidence, like someone who had never been denied anything in his life.
He walked straight to Charlotte, leaned down, and kissed her cheek before pulling out her chair for her.
"Quite early," the Matriarch muttered dryly.
Dominic chuckled, settling into his own seat. ″Was caught up with pack's business."
He reached for his napkin, shaking it out with a lazy flick of his wrist. Then his eyes slid toward Rodrigo, who still hadn't looked up.
"Brother," Dominic said lightly. "Great to see you. How many days has it been since the last dinner?"
The room went cold.
Nina's eyes widened slightly. Was that a jab? About his dead wives?
Rodrigo didn't react. He continued eating, his face unreadable, his movements calm and precise.
"I actually thought the last one would be the last," Dominic continued, his tone casual, almost bored. He picked up his fork and examined it. "But it seems you are finding it difficult to come to terms with the state of things."
Nina's stomach tightened. With Rodrigo's temperament, this could turn ugly fast. She had seen how the servants reacted to a simple handshake. What would he do to someone openly mocking him?
Seconds passed.
Still no reaction from the Alpha.
He placed his cutlery down, took a slow sip of water, and resumed eating—completely ignoring Dominic. As though he hadn't spoken at all. As though he didn't exist.
Dominic's jaw tightened. He adjusted his tie and stabbed at his food with unnecessary force, his earlier smugness evaporating.
Charlotte watched the exchange with narrowed eyes but said nothing.
The Matriarch cleared her throat, cutting through the brewing tension.
"The wedding will be scheduled for next week. Letters will be sent to the other packs tomorrow, and preparations will begin—"
"There will be no need for that."
Rodrigo's voice rang out for the first time that evening.
Commanding so much authority.
The air in the room seemed to thin. Everyone went still. Even Dominic stopped chewing.
Nina turned toward Rodrigo, her breath catching in her chest.
He set down his glass with a soft clink. His gaze lifted—and landed directly on her.
His eyes were cold. Glacial. Completely unreadable.
And yet she couldn't look away.
No need for formalities, Grandmother," he said. The ghost of a smile crossed his face before vanishing.
He set his cutlery aside and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Then he looked up—directly at Nina.
His voice was calm when he spoke, but the next words almost made her heart stop beating,
"We'll skip to the wedding night, tonight.″