The air in Kylian's grand home felt perpetually stale, mirroring the suffocation in Della's chest. For a year, she had walked these halls, a ghost in her own marriage, enduring the snide remarks and cold shoulders of Kylian's family.

Today, the silence was heavier, thick with unspoken accusations. Kylian stood before her, his handsome face etched with a conflict she no longer cared to understand. His voice, usually a deep rumble, was a strained whisper.

"Della," he began, his eyes avoiding hers, "Flora… she needs you to take the blame for the incident at the pack meeting. Just say you mishandled the finances. It'll be easier this way."

Her heart, already a fragile thing, shattered into a million pieces. The finality of his request, the casual dismissal of her loyalty, was a wound deeper than any insult.

Then, he looked at her, his gaze finally locking with hers, a bewildered confusion in their depths. "If it wasn't for the money or Luna's position, why on earth did you choose to stay after I found my fated mate?!"

The question, meant to wound, instead ignited a spark. Money? Position? He truly believed that was all she wanted? A bitter laugh escaped her lips, hollow and devoid of humor. Freedom. That's what she wanted. True freedom.