Three days later, I stepped into the Clark estate.
My birthright.
My family home.
My destiny.
But it felt like a place where ghosts went to die.
The chandelier above us was blinding.
Ava gasped softly—lifting her chin, squaring her shoulders—
as if she were the one reconnecting with long-lost wealth.
I was just the accessory she brought along.
Robert Clark sat on a velvet chair like a king on his throne.
His eyes skimmed over me…
cold, detached, unimpressed.
But when his gaze fell on Ava?
He smiled.
"Miss Summers," he said warmly, "thank you for coming."
Thank you for coming.
Not "Welcome home, son."
My heart tightened.
Ava gently pulled her hand out of mine—
not abruptly, but with the delicate grace of someone who didn't want anyone to notice the separation.
But I noticed.
God, I noticed every millimeter of distance she put between us.
Then he walked in.
Leo Clark.
The adopted golden boy.
Perfect hair. Perfect suit. Perfect fake smile.
Lillian Clark held his arm like he was her pride and joy—
the son she chose,
the son she raised,
the son she loved.
"This is Leo," she said sweetly,
"Your brother."
Brother?
That man was a wolf wearing the family name like a stolen coat.
Leo reached out his hand.
"Welcome home, buddy."
But before I could even lift mine—
Ava stepped forward.
Took his hand.
Smiled at him the way she used to smile at me.
"I've heard so much about you," she said, voice bright like springtime.
"We're family now."
Family.
She said it to him.
Not me.
At that moment, my hand—still suspended in mid-air—felt colder than winter.