Sofia’s POV
My phone rang just as I was about to step out of my room.
The screen showed an unknown number. For a second, I thought about ignoring it, but sothing inside said to answer.
"Hello?" I said softly.
There was a short silence before a man’s voice ca through, low and calm. "Sofia."
My brow furrowed. "Who is this?" I asked.
"Who I am doesn’t matter," he said. "What matters is that you know the kind of man Damien truly is."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He let out a slow breath. "Damien had an affair with Rebecca—your late best friend."
The na hit like a slap. "What?"
"She got pregnant," the man continued. "But Damien didn’t want the child. He asked her to get rid of it. She refused. She said she’d keep the baby no matter what. And so... he killed her."
My throat closed. "No," I whispered, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see . "That’s a lie."
"It’s not," he said, his tone sharper now. "Deep down, you already know the truth. You just don’t want to accept it."
My hand started shaking. "You don’t know what you’re saying."
"I know enough," the man replied coldly. "Think, Sofia. Who did Rebecca talk to last before she died? Damien. Who was the last to see her alive? Damien. Why was Olivia’s body switched with hers?"
I froze. I didn’t want to listen, but my mind had already started putting the pieces together.
Rebecca’s last call had been to Damien.
The scarf—yes, I’d seen it there before.
The exchange of bodies... I rembered.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "How do you know all this?"
He paused for a second. "I can’t tell you that," he said finally. "I can’t trust you not to tell your Alpha. Because if you do, he’ll co for . And I won’t survive that."
"Wait—!" I cried.
But the line went dead.
The call was over.
I just stood there, holding the phone, my hands shaking.
Everything around felt heavy.
I didn’t want to believe it, but the things he said made too much sense.
Rebecca’s last call.
The scarf.
The body exchange.
Tears filled my eyes. "No," I whispered. "No, he wouldn’t..."
My heart hurt. The man I loved—the man I trusted—could he really have done sothing so cruel?
Then I heard a sound.
Footsteps.
I turned quickly.
Damien was standing in the doorway.
My heart almost stopped.
He looked calm, but his eyes... his eyes were cold.
"Who was that on the phone?" he asked softly.
I froze, clutching the phone to my chest.
He took a step closer. "Sofia," he said again, his voice lower. "Who were you talking to?"
My lips trembled. "It—it was my mother," I said quickly.
His eyes narrowed. "Your mother?"
"Yes," I said, forcing a weak smile. "She isn’t feeling well. She called to tell she’s sick. I have to go see her."
The air felt heavy. My lie hung between us.
Damien tilted his head, watching quietly. His face didn’t change, but his eyes were sharp—too sharp.
"I didn’t know she was sick," he said slowly.
"It just started," I said, trying to sound calm. "I didn’t want to worry you."
He stepped closer. I could sll his scent. It used to make feel safe. Now it made want to run.
"You look nervous," he said.
"I’m just worried about her," I said quickly. "I’ll take our son with . We’ll stay for a few days."
Damien didn’t speak. He just looked at —deeply, silently, like he could see right through . Then, slowly, he shook his head.
"You don’t need to go," he said softly.
My breath caught. "What?"
He took another step closer. "You don’t have to travel. She can be brought here."
"Brought here?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," he said smoothly. "We have the best healers in the pack. They’ll take care of her."
My heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t trying to help—he was trapping .
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "She wouldn’t be comfortable here. She prefers her own ho."
Damien tilted his head slightly, studying like he was reading a book. His smile didn’t fade, but sothing cold flashed in his eyes.
"Then we’ll send healers to her," he said. "I’ll arrange it now."
He turned as if to grab his phone, but I stepped forward. "Damien, that’s not necessary—"
"It is necessary," he cut in, his tone authoritative this ti. "I can’t have you running off while your mother is sick. You’ll stay here where I can make sure you’re safe."
The words where I can make sure you’re safe felt wrong... like I was in captivity.
I swallowed hard, forcing a small nod even though my chest felt tight. "Alright," I said softly.
He turned back to slowly, his eyes narrowing like he didn’t believe . Then he smiled again. "Good. I’ll have soone bring you breakfast. You look pale."
He reached out to touch my face, and I flinched—just a little. But it was enough. His hand froze in midair.
That small movent changed everything.
His smile vanished, replaced by a confused frown. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel it—the shift, the silent realization.
He knew.
He knew I was lying.
He knew sothing was wrong with .
He stepped back, his calm expression returning, like nothing had happened.
"You should rest," he said quietly. "I’ll handle everything."
I forced a weak smile and nodded again. "Thank you."
As he turned and walked toward the door, my heart pounded so hard I thought he might hear it.
I waited until he was gone—until I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore—before I let out a shaky breath.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, clutching my phone. My hands were still trembling.
My mind scread at to run—to grab my son and get out before it was too late.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
Damien would never let leave.
And now... I was sure of one thing.
He killed Rebecca.
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