Christina’s POV
Hudson gave Declan an approving nod, then locked eyes with Gwendolyn. "I’ve brought my Luna here today. Anyone who gives her trouble answers to ."
His voice was quiet but commanding.Every single mber of the Sabreridge pack heard him loud and clear. This wasn’t just for Gwendolyn; it was a warning to every wolf in the room.
The whispering that had been buzzing around us like annoying mosquitoes suddenly stopped. Amazing how quickly gossip dies when the Alpha shows his power.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, conversation gradually resud.
Hudson took my hand, his grip warm and possessive, and guided toward a massive sofa in the center of the room.
I steeled myself for the onslaught of fake pleasantries and thinly veiled hostility. Instead, I got smiles. Lots of them. So were genuine, most weren’t, but nobody dared show anything else. They all looked like they were auditioning for toothpaste comrcials with their forced grins.
"They’re terrified of you," I whispered to Hudson.
"Good," he replied simply, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
I’d expected Hudson to struggle for respect, given the rumors about his parentage. Being born from a chosen mate rather than a fated mate was supposedly a disadvantage, especially in a large pack that valued strength above all. Fated mate children were believed to be stronger, more powerful. Yet here he was, commanding the room like the undisputed king.
"Your family is... interesting," I said, watching various relatives pretend not to stare at us.
"They’re vultures in designer clothing," Hudson replied casually. "But they know better than to cross ."
"Even your father?"
"Especially my father."
I wondered why Hudson had been so insistent on those ridiculous rehearsals for our "fake" marriage if everyone was too scared to question him anyway. Maybe he’d genuinely been worried about his grandfather’s reaction?
Speaking of his grandfather, Edouard Laurent was the reason for this whole charade. According to Hudson, the old Alpha was dying in a nursing ho and wanted to see his grandson married before he passed. Hence our hasty ceremony and very real certificate.
But when I finally t Edouard Laurent, I was surprised. Yes, he needed a cane and moved slowly, but his eyes were sharp and alert. He didn’t look like soone with one foot in the grave.
"So you’re Christina," he said when Hudson introduced us. "The woman who tad my grandson."
"I wouldn’t say tad," I replied carefully.
Edouard chuckled. "No one else would either. That’s what makes it interesting."
He examined the gift we’d brought, an antique pocket watch I’d helped Hudson select.
"Excellent taste," he comnted, "And your dress is quite beautiful as well. You wear it confidently."
His eyes weren’t cold like Reginald’s or calculating like Gwendolyn’s. They were assessing, yes, but not hostile. He studied like I was a chess piece whose value he hadn’t yet determined.
"Thank you, Alpha Edouard," I said.
"Call Edouard. We’re family now." He patted my hand. "Hudson, take good care of this one."
Hudson nodded. "I intend to."
"Good. Because she doesn’t seem like the type who’d put up with anything less." Edouard winked at before turning to greet other guests.
The party proceeded with all the formality of a royal event.
Speeches praising Edouard’s legacy, gift presentations, an enormous cake wheeled in by uniford staff, and countless photos.
Hudson stood tall beside , his arm around my waist, claiming as his Luna in front of the entire Sabreridge pack and their associates.
"This party is more than just a birthday celebration," Akira whispered in my mind.
"What do you an?" I thought back.
"He’s presenting you as his mate in front of everyone. Making a statent. No one will question your status after this."
I realized she was right. Every wolf in Highrise City would know by tomorrow that Hudson Laurent had claid Christina Vance as his Luna. The rumors about and Niall would be silenced imdiately.
Shortly after the cake cutting, Hudson was summoned to his grandfather’s study. He squeezed my hand reassuringly before leaving alone on the sofa.
"I won’t be long," he promised.
Left alone, I started cataloging the family mbers. The Sabreridge pack was huge, with multiple branches and connections. This room alone probably held fifty Laurent relatives, all circling like sharks.
I felt it imdiately. Soone was watching . Not the casual glances of curious relatives, but a focused, intense stare that made my skin crawl. I turned toward the source and froze.
Isobel Brooke.
Holy shit.
I actually flinched when our eyes t. Her stare hadn’t changed since high school—cold, unblinking, reptilian.
I shivered involuntarily. It wasn’t fear exactly, more like disgust. The kind you feel when you step on sothing slimy in the dark.
When Serenna ntioned Isobel was back in town, I’d thought, "Highrise City is huge. What are the chances we’d run into each other?" Yet here she was, staring down across a crowded room.
I leaned toward the young woman sitting next to . She was a cousin of Hudson’s whose na I’d already forgotten, and she was completely absorbed in her phone.
"Who’s that woman over there?" I asked casually, nodding toward Isobel.
She glanced up briefly. "Oh, that’s Isobel Brooke. She’s dating Quentin, Hudson’s second cousin. They’re probably getting engaged soon. That’s why she’s here—future family mber and all that."
Great. Just what I needed. My high school nesis joining the Laurent family tree.
Isobel’s eyes were still boring into , her hatred palpable across the room.
I suddenly felt claustrophobic. The room was too crowded, the air thick with perfu and pretense.
"Need so air," I muttered, smoothing my dress as I stood.
I slipped out onto the patio, instantly relieved by the cool evening air. The garden was beautifully lit, with children running around a fountain. Their laughter was a welco break from the stuffy formality inside.
I wandered past the illuminated pool, enjoying the mont of solitude. Declan’s redesign really was impressive.
"Christina Vance!"
I froze mid-step. That voice. I hadn’t heard it in years, but the sound still grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.
I turned slowly to face Isobel as she strutted across the lawn toward .
"Long ti no see," she said, stopping directly in front of . Her chin was tilted upward, eyes scanning my face critically.
"Not long enough," I replied.
"Surprised to see here?" she asked with a smirk.
I smiled sweetly. "Actually, I’m surprised you’re still in one piece. With that bratty attitude and unfiltered mouth of yours, I figured you’d have angered the wrong person by now and ended up as fish food in so harbor."
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