Adele's POV
Taking the money and heading straight to the gambling hall—how utterly predictable of my father.
Of course he would do that. The question wasn't whether he'd gamble it away, but whether he had ever truly believed his own excuse.
Had he honestly intended to earn money for my mother's treatment? Or had he convinced himself, in his drunken delusion, that fifty thousand dollars could magically become twice as much with a single lucky hand?
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it, my gaze drifting past my aunt's painted face.
My father had long since lost the ability to distinguish fantasy from reality. Alcohol, drugs and gambling had rotted his judgment until his absurd beliefs felt real—even righteous—to him.
He drank. He did drugs. He gambled. And now he was drowning in debt to relatives who had never lifted a finger to help us.
He hadn't even been there when my mother took her final breath.
The resentment I had carried since childhood—quiet, festering, endlessly suppressed—finally surged to the surface. My anger toward my father burned hot and sharp, but the fury I felt toward my aunt, who spoke of money so casually at her own sister's funeral, was reaching a dangerous breaking point.
I lifted my gaze and fixed it squarely on her.
"You knew about the new medicine that could treat my mother's illness," I said. It wasn't a question.
For the briefest moment, her expression faltered. Then she let out an awkward laugh, brushing it off as if it were nothing.
"Well… yes. I sometimes meet people from pharmaceutical companies at social gatherings."
"The medicine costs around eighty thousand dollars," I continued evenly. "It was impossibly expensive. Completely beyond our means."
If someone—anyone—who could afford that amount had helped, things might have ended differently. I didn't need to say it aloud. The implication hung heavily in the air.
My aunt's lips thinned. Guilt flashed across her face before it hardened into irritation.
"That medicine wouldn't have cured her," she snapped. "It would have only extended her life a little. And what difference would that have made? It would have just prolonged your suffering—and your brother's. Do you think eighty thousand dollars is a trivial sum? You really have no shame."
I stared at her, then laughed softly.
So this was what people meant when they said anger eventually turned into laughter.
Just the jewelry she wore today—her necklace, earrings, and rings—was worth at least sixty thousand dollars. And she owned dozens of such outfits. To her, that amount of money was nothing more than a fleeting shopping spree.
How could people like this exist?
I shook my head slowly, a sharp smile curving my lips. "I didn't realize your financial situation was so dire that you couldn't spare eighty thousand dollars. If your investors knew how unstable things really were behind the scenes, I imagine they'd be quite alarmed."
Her eyes widened in shock. "Now wait just a moment—this is really—"
"Why did you come here?" I interrupted. My voice was calm, but every word was edged with steel. "It certainly wasn't because you were grieving for a sister you barely acknowledged. Did you come to demand that I repay my father's debt?"
"You insolent little—!"
Her hand flew up before she could stop herself.
"Don't touch my sister!"
Damien moved faster than I could react. He stepped in front of me, spreading his arms wide, standing tall despite his small frame as he shielded me with his body.
I looked down at him, at my little brother trembling yet unyielding, and something hot and fierce surged in my chest. My teeth clenched as I fought to keep my emotions from spilling over.
My aunt froze, her raised hand hovering uselessly in the air. Slowly, she lowered it, shock and embarrassment flashing across her face as she realized what she had nearly done.
"Adele… you were being so disrespectful," she stammered. "I just—lost control for a moment…"
I didn't respond. Instead, I placed my hands firmly on Damien's shoulders and gently pulled him behind me. Only then did I allow myself to breathe again.
Unlike me—an ordinary omega with nothing remarkable about me—my brother had the potential of an alpha. Yet to me, he would always be the small, fragile child I needed to protect.
"Tell my father to repay the debt," I said coldly, meeting my aunt's gaze without flinching. "I didn't borrow the money."
My uncle Chris stood off to the side, silent and uninterested, as though the entire confrontation had nothing to do with him.
It was my younger cousin Bill who stepped forward instead, pushing past his stunned mother.
"That's not how it works, Adele."
Though he was the same age as Damien, he was tall—almost fully grown—his body shaped by comfort and excess. He was only fourteen, yet there was already something ugly in his eyes, a glint of cruelty that made my skin crawl.
"Your father borrowed the money," he continued smugly. "And since he took it and disappeared, you're responsible for paying it back. Fifty thousand dollars isn't a small amount."
I stared at him, momentarily speechless.
The sadistic pleasure in his expression, the satisfaction in his voice—it made my stomach turn. Did I really have to argue with a child my brother's age over something like this?
I inhaled slowly, preparing to respond calmly despite the fury boiling inside me.
But before I could speak, another voice chimed in.
"But Adele," my other cousin Colin said with a smirk, peering at me from behind his mother, "aren't you actually a breeder? You certainly look like one."
He was fifteen—only a year older—but his grin was just as sharp, just as cruel.
And in that moment, I realized this confrontation was simply a setup.