Cecilia’s pov
Then, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"How dare you!" Amara hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You don’t need to twist the knife, Cecilia. Fine, I’m not his favorite anymore. You got fired so you could have him all to yourself. Enjoy your mont in the spotlight while it lasts. Soon enough, you’ll be the ex too!"
"Valid point," I agreed, nodding with exaggerated sincerity.
That shut her up.
She clearly hadn’t expected to agree.
She stood there, mouth slightly open, argunt dying on her lips.
With each interaction, I was becoming increasingly convinced that Amara wasn’t the master manipulator I’d initially pegged her for.
No clever sches, no brilliant machinations.
Throw a few verbal punches her way, and she crumbled.
Her only real talent seed to be a masterful ability to cry on command.
I almost felt sorry for her.
"Look, Amara," I sighed, setting down my fork. "Maybe you need to stop defining yourself as ’the ex.’ The whole desperate, clingy routine is Dating 101’s biggest don’t. You need a new strategy. Stop dwelling on the past, and start reminding him why he fell for you in the first place. That might actually work."
Amara looked at like I’d suggested she set herself on fire.
"You’re cruel," she spat, eyes glistening with tears. "You’re absolutely cruel, Cecilia!"
"I offered her my most innocent smile. ’How am I being cruel? I’m giving you advice because your current approach is getting you nowhere. Don’t shoot the ssenger.’"
"How could you possibly be helping ?" Amara demanded. "We’re rivals! You’re trying to take him from !"
"Who said I was competing with you?"
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What... what do you an?"
"Exactly what I said."
Amara still looked lost, struggling to process my words. "But you and Sebastian... aren’t you dating? Don’t you want to mate with him and join his pack? We both love him, we both want him--why pretend otherwise with these mind gas?"
Well. At least she was being direct now.
I didn’t answer imdiately.
Instead, I took my ti finishing the last few bites of my pasta, twirling the noodles slowly around my fork.
The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Just sat there, waiting--like I owed her a heart-to-heart.
I set my fork down, the quiet clink louder than it should’ve been.
Alright, fine. If she wanted honesty, I’d give it to her.
No sugarcoating. No strategic pauses. Just the ugly truth.
"I know Luna Regina called you back," I said flatly, arms folded across my chest. "You’re just another piece on her chessboard, Amara. If you win, great--if you fail, she’ll just swap you out like a busted rook. So go back and tell her this: I have zero plans to date her precious son, much less pledge my soul to Silver Peak ."
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a mock-confidential whisper. "Sebastian and I? We’re just having fun. No strings, no vows, no pack oaths. So she can stop trying to sabotage us--because there’s nothing to break."
Amara’s jaw dropped so hard I half expected it to hit the table.
She stared at like I’d just told her I moonlighted as a vampire stripper.
"You’re..." she sputtered, blinking rapidly. "You’re just...playing with Sebastian?"
I gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Now you know. So maybe stop painting as the villain in whatever Ga of Thrones episode you’ve got going in your head."
She didn’t speak. Just sat there, stunned, her plan clearly unraveling faster than a prom dress in a horror movie.
Her eyes darted toward the window, as if hoping soone would burst in and save her from this plot twist.
I stood, pushing my chair back with a scrape. "Dinner and drama. Guess we’re done here."
As I stepped into the hallway, I nearly collided with Sawyer.
He flinched like he’d been caught stealing the last slice of birthday cake.
"Do...do you ladies have enough pasta?" he blurted, eyes wide, forehead glistening with a nervous sheen.
I raised a brow.
"I made mine. If she’s hungry, she knows where the stove is," I said, brushing past him.
But Sawyer’s arm shot out, barring my path.
"Cecilia," he said, suddenly serious. His gaze locked on mine, and for once, there was no trace of his usual goofiness. "I have a favor to ask."
"...Okay?"
He shifted awkwardly, like he was about to confess to a felony. "I’m actually starving. That pasta slled incredible. Think you could make a plate too?"
I blinked. Then laughed. "Seriously? That’s what this is about?"
He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. And, uh... maybe with extra at?"
I held up a hand. "Say no more. Chef Cecilia’s got you."
"Great!" he bead. "I’ll just, uh, wait in the living room."
He retreated so quickly I half-expected to see smoke trails behind him.
I narrowed my eyes at his back. That couldn’t be the whole story...right?
Still, I returned to the kitchen and made another plate.
When I ca back out, Sawyer was already sprawled on the couch, fast asleep, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes like he’d fainted from hunger.
I sighed, took the untouched bowl back into the kitchen, and turned off the lights.
I passed the dining room and saw Amara still sitting at the table, frozen like a Louvre statue that had just realized it was no longer center stage.
Outside, the sky had begun to pale, rain still whispering against the windows like it was trying to hush the chaos inside.
I climbed the stairs, barefoot on cool wood.
Back in bed, full and exhausted, I stared at the rain streaking the windows. I replayed what I’d said to Amara.
Had it been the truth, or just spiteful words fueled by emotion?
I couldn’t even tell anymore.
Eventually, my turbulent thoughts gave way to fitful sleep...
--
When I finally woke up, it was already two in the afternoon.
My head felt stuffed with cotton, and a heavy ache settled in my chest.
It wasn’t from lack of sleep.
It was the kind of fatigue that cos from emotional overload.
For a few dazed seconds, I just lay there, staring at a ceiling I didn’t recognize, wondering if I’d sleepwalked into soone else’s life.
It took several long minutes before I could even think about moving.
I forced myself to get up, changed into clean clothes, and headed downstairs.
Tang was splayed out on the couch like a college student ho for break, elbows deep in a chaotic video ga battle.
The mont he saw , he lit up like soone had just handed him a second dessert.
"Good afternoon, Cecilia!" he chirped. "We already had lunch. I was gonna wake you, but the boss said no one was allowed to disturb your beauty sleep."
I gave a small nod, scanning the living room. "Is everyone else up? Where is...where are they?"
"Sawyer’s upstairs packing the boss’s stuff," Tang said, not missing a beat with the controller.
"Alpha went out for a walk in the garden. Jet lag, maybe? He barely touched his breakfast."
I rolled my eyes internally. When did Sebastian ever eat a full al unless soone guilt-tripped him into it?
"What about Amara?" I asked casually, watching his reaction.
The na was like a detonation.
Tang practically leapt off the couch, controller flying into a pillow.
"Wait, she was here again? That woman’s like a bad penny. Always showing up when nobody wants her and acting like she owns the place."
He looked like he was about to march off and file a complaint with HR.
I raised an eyebrow. So, Amara had already left. But Sawyer hadn’t said a word to Tang about her late-night visit. Interesting.
Was he just trying to be discreet? Or was sothing else going on?
Then I heard the voice. Calm, steady, and instantly recognizable.
"Sleep well, Secretary Moore?"
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