Chapter 11
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Amelia
1 froze.
Not even Adam had remembered. Not a text. Not a “happy birthday.” Nothing. And sure, it had been a few weeks ago now, but still–no one had acknowledged it. Not until Richard.
I hadn’t even remembered until now. I’d been running nonstop–school, work, trying to keep up appearances–and the truth was, passing another birthday without a wolf only made it feel more certain: I’d probably be wolfless forever. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I wanted to celebrate.
But here I was, holding a small, perfectly wrapped box from Richard. It was matte black with a satin ribbon tied cleanly across the top, the kind of packaging that made you feel like whatever was inside had to be special. Heavy in my hands–intentional.
“I” I started, hesitating. There was a strange flicker of guilt behind my ribs, like I didn’t deserve kindness today. Like receiving this meant accepting that someone had seen me.
“Open it.” Richard said, his tone gentle but firm.
I did.
Inside was a beautiful black fountain pen, the kind that looked like it belonged to someone who actually mattered. My name was engraved on the side in flowing script–elegant, professional, permanent.
Something in my chest tightened. He remembered. He noticed.
Years ago, when I was still just a kid, Richard had given me a cheap little notebook and pen set, told me to write down my big ideas. I’d loved that thing until I lost it somewhere in a move. The memory hit me harder than expected.
He still saw me as that kid, didn’t he? The little girl who spied on him at the compound during council visits, clutching a notebook too big for her hands and babbling about policy like she understood it. It was sweet. But it also stung—because I wasn’t that girl anymore. I’d grown up. I’d fought and scraped and gotten this far on my own. And yet, somehow, this gift made me feel like I hadn’t moved at all in his eyes. Like part of him still saw me as someone who needed to be gently indulged instead of taken seriously.?
It shouldn’t have made me sad. But it did.
“Don’t you like it?” he asked, reading my silence.
1 blinked. “No–1 mean yes. I love it. I’ll use it for my proposal. I’ll make it good.”
He smiled slightly “I know you will.” His voice had that quiet certainty I wasn’t used to receiving from anyone, and something about it made me want to prove him right. I closed the box carefully and set it in my lap, holding on to the warmth of that moment longer than I probably should have.
When I stepped out of the car and walked into the building, it was like the air shifted–more grounded, more focused. By the time I sat back down at my desk, a strange kind of resolve had settled in my chest–steady, sharp, and ready to work.
With Richard’s encouragement echoing in my head, I locked in. The proposal, which was supposed to pitch a new approach to community outreach on behalf of the King’s campaign, had been giving me a headache for days.
I’d spent the week juggling research, formatting guidelines, and second–guessing myself into a corner. But something about holding that pro–about feeling seen–shook me loose, Suddenly everything snapped into place. The messaging was tight. The layout worked. It was smart, grounded, and uniquely mine: I finished it by lunch and felt proud of it.
Jason stopped by my desk not long after.
“Lucch?” he asked, holding up a wrapped sandwich like it was a peace offering.
He’d been oddly friendly lately Weirdly charming, even. I still didn’t trust him–not fully–but I didn’t have the energy to reject him either So I nodded and joined him.
We ate outside in the courtyard. He asked polite questions about my background, complimented my initiative, told me he was impressed by how fast I was learning, I stayed neutral Guarded. But I smiled a line.
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Chapter 11
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When I returned to my desk, I knew something was wrong immediately.
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My files weren’t where I’d left them. The desk had been nudged, ever so slightly, like someone had just stepped away. My heart panged
with dread.
I opened my folder.
The proposal was gone.
I searched frantically. My locker, my desk, my backpack, nothing.
“Has anyone seen my interview plan?” I asked the room.
Blank stares. Shrugs.
“Wasn’t that due today?” one intern asked, tone suspiciously wide–eyed.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, still scanning my surroundings.
“Maybe you misplaced it?” someone else offered.
A clenched my fists.
Ten minutes later, Jason’s group turned in a sleek, typed proposal. Followed by another group. Both with eerily familiar phrasing and formatting.
I was stunned. Completely stunned.
No one looked at me. No one said a word. Everyone just kept working.
By the time my name was called, my palms were damp, my heart racing. Every second felt stretched and sharp, like something was about to snap. I rifled through my bag again, even though I already knew it was gone.
The pit in my stomach was bottomless. My name echoed down the hall and I stood, frozen for a moment, like maybe time would stop if I didn’t move. But it didn’t, So I walked forward–empty–handed, humiliated, and silently praying for some kind of miracle that never came. I had nothing to hand in.
My supervisor was less than understanding. “I expected more from you. This is unacceptable.”
I stood there, speechless. I didn’t even bother trying to explain. It would sound like a weak excuse.
That night, I stayed late, rewriting everything from scratch.
When 1 finally dragged myself home, all I wanted was to change clothes a
That’s when I noticed it—a bra.
collapse. I threw my bag down and went to the closet.
Lacy, expensive, not mine. Smaller than anything I owned, too–delicate in a way that didn’t belong to me. I knew my own bras, and this one didn’t even come close.
I stared at it for a long time. Then I picked it up and walked into the living room.
“Adam?” I asked.
He didn’t even glance at me.
I held it up. “This isn’t mine.”
He didn’t blink.
“So?” 4 echoed.
“Tim not going to pretend it is. I cheated. So what?”
The words slammed into me. I actually swayed. He had always been a piece of shit–selfish, careless–but never this blatant, never this cruel. The ease with which he said it, the complete lack of shame… it made something sharp twist in my gut.
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Chapter 11
He kept going, like he hadn’t just detonated something.
“You think I was gonna stay with a wolfless mate forever? Come on, Amelia. Be real
My throat closed. “I paid the rent. I’ve done everything to keep this place together.””
“And the lease is in my name,” he said, standing up. “So pack your stuff. You’re out.
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“No, Adam–come on. Don’t do this,” I said, stepping toward him. “You can’t just throw me out over this. I’ve been paying the rent. I’ve kept everything running while you–while you’ve been off doing God knows what.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, and I let you. Doesn’t change whose name is on the lease.”
“I don’t care whose name is on it. You’re being cruel for no reason. I’ve done everything I could to make this work.”
“You being here was never going to work,” he said flatly. “You were just convenient.”
The words knocked the air out of me. My fists clenched at my sides.
“I deserve better than this,” I said, voice trembling.
Then go find it,” he snapped.
And just like that, it was over.
Just like that, no apology, no regret.
Just contempt.
I grabbed what I could. Threw it into a duffel. My hands shook so hard I could barely zip it. I left the rest behind. The night air hit me like a slap as I stepped outside.
1 had nowhere to go.
I sat on a bench down the block for a long time, scrolling through my phone like it would conjure an answer. Finally, I called the one person I hadn’t already burned a bridge with.
Jenny.
It rang and rang.
Then, to my surprise, someone picked up.
“Hello”
It was Richard
I almost hung up. My voice cracked instead.
“Hi–it’s Amelia Is Jenny there?”
“No. She went out,” he said. “Left her phone behind.”
He paused. “Are you okay?”
I tried to answer, but all that came out was a shaky breath.
“Amelia.” His voice softened. “What happened?”
“1. I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight”
That was all I could manage.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said immediately. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”
“You don’t have to-
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Chapter 11
“I want to. Don’t wander.”
Ten minutes later, a familiar black car pulled up beside the curb.
And Richard himself was behind the wheel.
“Get in,” he said.
And I did.
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