Return Of The Lost Lycan Princess...

The sound of Emilia's palm connecting with Alexander's cheek echoed through the entrance hall like a gunshot. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The staff members who had been lingering nearby scattered like leaves in the wind, their footsteps quick and hushed against the marble floor.

"You are a bastard," Emilia said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

Alexander's head had turned slightly from the force of the slap, and now his eyes widened as the sting registered on his skin. His hand moved slowly to his cheek, fingers pressing against the reddening mark as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His mouth opened, then closed again, words seeming to die on his tongue.

The click of heels against marble broke the silence before Alexander could find his voice. Stephanie Reed swept into the entrance hall like a storm gathering strength, her designer suit immaculate, her silver hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to stretch her face into a permanent expression of disapproval. The scent of her expensive perfume arrived before she did, something floral and cloying that made Emilia's stomach turn.

"Who gave you the right to slap my son, the esteemed Alpha of the Redstone pack?" Stephanie's voice carried the kind of authority that expected immediate submission.

Emilia turned to face her mother-in-law, her chin lifting slightly. She opened her mouth to respond, to explain, to defend herself one last time. But before a single word could form, Stephanie's hand flew through the air.

The slap landed on Emilia's cheek with enough force to make her head snap to the side. Pain bloomed across her face, hot and sharp. Her eyes watered from the impact, but something inside her, something that had been cowering and quiet for four long years, suddenly roared to life.

Emilia's hand moved on instinct. The sound of her palm meeting Stephanie's face was even louder than the first slap, if that was possible. Her hand stung from the contact, but the satisfaction that surged through her veins was worth every bit of discomfort.

Stephanie stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her cheek. Her perfectly applied makeup couldn't hide the shock that transformed her features. Her mouth fell open in a way that would have horrified her if she could see herself.

"How dare you?" Stephanie breathed, her voice climbing in volume with each word, "How dare a human trash like you raise your filthy hands on me?"

Stephanie's eyes were wide, almost bulging from her face. The hand on her cheek pressed harder, as if she could somehow erase what had just happened through sheer pressure. She looked at Alexander, then back at Emilia, then at Alexander again, as though waiting for her son to materialize a solution to this unprecedented situation.

"Anyway, I'm not going to waste my breath on a leech like you," Stephanie said, taking a deep breath. Her voice came out calmer than she felt, steady and clear.

Emilia looked at Alexander, and shook her head slightly. For four years, she had swallowed insults such as this from his mother, and even now, he just stood there, one hand still on his own cheek, watching the scene unfold like a spectator at a play rather than a participant. His silence spoke louder than any words could have.

Stephanie seemed to recover from her shock, her face hardening into familiar lines of contempt. She turned to Alexander, her voice taking on a lighter tone, almost conversational, as if nothing unusual had just occurred.

"I saw the news about you and Mia," she said, smoothing down her suit jacket with shaking hands, "and all I can say is that I am glad you're finally getting rid of this embarrassment of a wife."

Emilia let out a short laugh, harsh and bitter. The sound surprised even her. 'Of course, this was how it would go,' she said to herself. Four years of her life suddenly played through her mind like a film on fast forward. Four years of eating dinner alone while Alexander worked late, or claimed he was working late. Four years of Stephanie's cutting remarks about her clothes, her hair, her human smell, her common manners. Four years of making excuses, of trying harder, of believing that if she could just be better, quieter, more useful, things would change.

She thought about the nights she'd spent staring at her phone, willing it to ring. The mornings she'd woken up alone in their bed, the sheets on his side cold and undisturbed. The holidays she'd celebrated with only the staff for company. The birthdays that passed without acknowledgement. Every small hurt had seemed bearable at the time, just another thing to endure, but now they piled up in her mind like stones, heavy and sharp-edged.

Gone were the days when she allowed her mother-in-law to trample upon her and insult her. 'No more,' Emilia whispered to herself, the words a promise and a prayer all at once.

"Don't worry yourself," Emilia said aloud, her voice stronger now. "I'm leaving."

She took a step toward the door, ready to walk out of the house and this life forever. Behind her, she could hear Alexander shift his weight, she could sense him about to speak.

"Oh great, you can leave," Stephanie said, her voice cutting through the silence, and Emilia could hear the smile in her voice, sharp and mean. "But everything you are wearing was bought by my son."

Emilia stopped. She turned slowly, her eyes finding Alexander's face. He looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. His silence felt like a final betrayal, worse somehow than all the others that had come before.

Something hot and fierce burned in Emilia's chest. She thought about the baby growing inside her, about the brothers waiting outside in the car, about the father she'd just found. She thought about who she was now, not who she'd been when she walked into this house as a naive eighteen-year-old girl desperate to save her friend.

"With all pleasure," Emilia said, and even she could hear the edge in her voice. Her hands moved to her ears. The diamond earrings were small, delicate things that caught the light from the chandelier overhead. She'd worn them so often she barely noticed their weight anymore.

"These earrings," she said, pulling them free. The posts slid out of her pierced ears with a small pinch. "You got these as a pathetic excuse for not coming home for four months straight."

She held them up, watching the light dance through the stones one last time. Then she opened her fingers and let them drop. They hit the marble floor with tiny, almost musical sounds, bouncing once before coming to rest near Alexander's feet. "I waited with my phone beside me night after night waiting for your call," she continued, her voice steady even as her throat tightened. "And now I know why you never came home."

The memory of those nights washed over her. Sitting on the edge of their bed, phone in hand, jumping at every notification that wasn't from him. Making excuses to herself. He's busy. He's important. He's an Alpha with responsibilities. The way she'd convinced herself that his absence was somehow her fault, that if she could just be more understanding, more patient, more worthy, he would come back to her.

Her hands moved to the necklace at her throat. It was a simple silver chain with a small pendant, nothing extravagant, but she remembered the day he'd given it to her. She'd thought it meant something. She'd been such a fool.

"This necklace," she said, her fingers working at the clasp. "You got it on Valentine's Day."

The memory of that day stung worse than Stephanie's slap. She'd spent hours preparing a special dinner, wearing her nicest dress, lighting candles. He'd arrived home at eleven at night, tossed the jewellery box at her without a word, and disappeared into his office. She'd cried herself to sleep that night, the new necklace cold against her skin.

The clasp came free, and she pulled the chain away from her neck. The metal had been warmed by her body heat, and absorbed the scent of her skin. She held it for just a moment, feeling its weight in her palm, then let it fall. It landed in a small coil on top of the earrings, a silver snake on white marble.

Emilia paused, and with a sad smile, she moved to turn towards the door again.

"How about the dress?" Stephanie said, her voice dripping with malicious satisfaction. "Take it off."

The words hung in the air between them. Emilia could see the gleam in her mother-in-law's eyes, the expectation of humiliation, the certainty that Emilia would back down, would give in, would prove once again that she was beneath them.

"Mother, that's enough," Alexander spoke finally, his voice rough but not more than a whisper.

"Fine," Emilia said.